To my fellow T/Ders:
Yeah...that excerpt I posted was a fake, hence the love-hate thing I was on about. Please, enjoy the real thing...and don't kill me!
Dislocations, Hypothermia, and Lavender Oil
The Warthog jolted as Massachusetts clambered slowly onto it, the extra weight speeding up its progress of slipping.
"Hold on," she said, pulling out the sword and using it to hack through the metal encased around Missouri's leg. He winced as sparks flew up in the air, and jumped as Massachusetts tossed the metal away down the gorge, the clanging loud and echoing. The Warthog suddenly scraped down violently, and both Freelancers yelled out in surprise. Missouri clutched at the sides of the jeep with both hands to steady himself, whilst Massachusetts doubled the pace, her breathing awkward as the intensity on the situation brought pressure on her shoulders. It was all down to her. If they didn't get out of this alive, it was her fault. Then she sighed in relief as the last piece holding Missouri came free. Missouri laughed aloud and stood up, moving towards the rock wall. The celebrations were short-lived though, as the stone supporting the Warthog finally crumbled, and the jeep plummeted. The Freelancer acted immediately, leaping from the Warthog. Massachusetts plunged the sword into the stone, the energy blade cutting through it like paper and holding her. Missouri, however, was not as lucky, and missed the foothold. He would have fallen alongside the jeep, had Massachusetts not grabbed his arm at the last second. A metal support would have bent under the weight of the two Spartans, but energy cannot be shaped with mere pressure. The blade instead cut through the rock, sliding down the cliff face with increasing speed. If it wasn't stopped soon, they wouldn't be able to slow down before they hit the bottom of the gorge.
Suddenly, Missouri grabbed a ledge, all the while clutching at Massachusetts' arm. She was pulled to a halt abruptly, swinging off the sword, fully aware Missouri was yelling in agony above her.
"What's up?" she shouted to him, struggling to gain a foothold. He shook his head, the arm he had used to stop her pointing out at a strange angle.
"I think… I've dislocated my shoulder," he replied, his voice laced with pain. "You keep going up; I'll make my own way-"
"And how the hell will you do that, dumbass?" Massachusetts snorted, retracting the sword until it was just a handle, before putting it on her belt. Slowly, she made her way up to him. "You need two arms to climb."
"I'll be fine," Missouri protested sullenly, but Massachusetts shook her head.
"I got you in this mess, so I'm sure as hell getting you out," she replied firmly, unhooking the thick, standard-issue grapple wire from his suit and attaching it to her own. "When I get to the top, I'm going to pull you up, OK?"
Missouri sighed deeply, but then nodded; knowing that trying to win an argument against a woman was a pointless feat. Illinois had always happily worn him down. Thinking about his wife sent a pang of hatred towards the Meta though his heart, and his will to live, if only for revenge, was strengthened.
"Go for it," he said. Massachusetts began the long and tedious climb upwards. It took the best of an hour before she reached the snowy top, scrabbling to heave herself over, and then lying on the ground panting with exhaustion when she had done so.
Then she remembered Missouri was waiting for her, and activated the manual control on her suit, bringing up a little pulley device. All suits had them, but they were generally used for a Spartan's own grapple wire, not somebody else's. She hooked Missouri's wire into the pulley and activated it, holding onto a nearby boulder so she wouldn't move as the other Freelancer was brought up. The wire tightened and began to move, dragging Massachusetts' waist forwards so that she had to cling desperately to her rock.
Missouri's ascent took less than half the time hers had done, and after just twenty minutes of pulling, she could see his head poking above the edge. She ran over to him and helped him up, being careful about his arm, before leading him over to a small cave. Once safely inside, she ordered him to remove his helmet and top half armour so she could look at his arm. He struggled slightly, so, despite his weak protests, Massachusetts helped him get it off, before inspecting his arm.
"Yeah," she said, her medical training coming into play, "you've definitely dislocated it. Hold still; this is seriously gonna fucking hurt."
"Wha-?" Missouri began, but then screamed in pain as Massachusetts took hold of his bare arm and rubbed lavender oil onto it, causing a popping noise as his arm forced itself back into its socket. She held onto him and he tried to instinctively hit out at her, waiting for him to calm down.
"That stuff puts arms back in place?" he said weakly when he'd finished, and Massachusetts nodded.
"The same way CPR cures a bullet wound to the head or Aloe Vera rubbed on the neck heals a mangled foot. Cures come in the most unlikely of forms."
"Right..." Missouri replied, uncertain whether she was joking or not. He slowly put his armour back on, wincing at the pain that still resided his arm, and then got up unsteadily.
"Let's go," Massachusetts said, putting the Lavender oil back on her belt and exiting the cave.
"I never told you my name, did I?" Missouri said suddenly. Massachusetts turned back to him, pausing.
"I never asked," she said simply, but didn't move. Missouri shifted uncomfortably.
"Call me Zoura," he said, nodding towards her. "I only tell people I trust my name."
"Well, you can continue to call me Massa. I don't tell anyone my name, whether I trust them or not."
She turned to go again, but Zoura stopped her with an abruptly put question.
"Why did you save me, Massa?"
"You really want to know?" she said, not facing him, but staring out into the ice and stone peaks beyond.
"I do. You could have lost everything by climbing down to me, but you did anyway. Why?"
"Because..." Massachusetts began, and then sighed. "Because I got you in that mess. I decided to get you out."
The Freelancer walked outside into the gathering blizzard, leaving Missouri alone in the cave.
It was several hours later that the blistering cold began to affect Massachusetts. She found her hands become stiff, her fingers unwilling to move. At first, she had done nothing but shiver, yet even now, that was fading away. Numbness was slowly replacing all the feeling in her body, and her legs were becoming sluggish and difficult to move. She realises she was showing definite signs of borderline stage three hypothermia, and slowly shook her head. What could she do? She had no way of warming her body, yet at the same time, Missouri was storming ahead as if nothing was wrong. Massachusetts had a brief internal battle over pride and necessity, not wanting to dent her pride, but not wanting her curiosity to go unquenched as well.
"Zoura?" She called out, her voice making her sound drunk. He spun around to face her as her legs finally gave way, making her fall down in the snow. She laid still, the numb warmth washing over her, as Missouri sprinted over and turned her over, panicked.
"Massa?" he cried frantically, "oh, shit..."
He quickly lifted her helmet off, and then let a hiss escape his mouth as he stared at her. Her skin was pale, and her lips and ears tinged blue. Her eyes were glazed slightly, as if she wasn't aware of her surroundings.
"How can you ignore the cold?" she mumbled, her mouth barely moving. Missouri shook his head.
"You don't know about the standard-issue heating and cooling system in your suit?" he asked bewilderedly.
"Oh.... Shit. Sig always managed my suit properties. I guess I...forgot."
Missouri flicked on the switch to start the heat, and Massachusetts cried weakly in pain, the lukewarm air like boiling water against her freezing skin. Missouri put her helmet back on for her, before dragging her over and sitting her up against a rock, holding her down so she wouldn't try to stop the heater warming her up. Eventually Massachusetts found she could move her body freely again, although it hurt to do so. She nodded to Missouri, who then turned the heat up to the right level to protect her from the cold, and then helped her up, supporting her, as she could barely walk.
"I'm fine," she protested, stumbling as soon as she had uttered the words, disproving her own point.
"Once we get to the Freelancer base, then I'll let go of you. Until then, shut up and try to walk."
Missouri had experienced many gun barrels being pointed at his face in his lifetime, but not all of them at once.
"Stand down," he said, struggling to hold up the wavering Massachusetts. The Freelancer shook his head.
"Not until we've scanned you and confirmed you are not the Meta. We've had reports that he is in the area. We can't risk our A.I."
A woman wearing plain, black clothes instead of armour stepped forward, holding a device with a little, red light on it. The light passed over both of their visors, before turning green.
"They're clear," she said in a thick Southern accent, and the guards lowered their weapons. She turned to Missouri and Massachusetts. "Welcome to our base. I'm Agent Ohio, the site's highly trained doctor. Give your friend to me; we'll have her patched up in no time at all."
Missouri nodded and shifted Massachusetts' weight off his shoulder. Two of the soldiers lifted her limp form with ease and followed Ohio towards a grey building in the distance. Missouri looked back to the Freelancer who had held him at gunpoint.
"I'm Agent Iowa. Let me show you around the base and set a few ground rules while you are here," he said, beckoning Missouri to join him.
"No, I'm going to see how Massa is. Fill me in when I know she's going to be alright," Missouri replied, shaking his head firmly. He turned and jogged after Ohio as she entered a low, flat building made of grey brick. She motioned for him to follow, without looking at him, and led him down a series of twisted corridors with unpainted walls and bare stone floor. It came as a surprise to him when they walked into the medical room to see it with gleaming, pristine walls and floors, complete with central heating and rows of beds.
"I insisted upon a sterilised room to treat my patients," Ohio said, as if she knew what he was thinking. She then directed the two guards holding Massachusetts over to the nearest bed, watching them carefully to make sure they put her down gently. When they had left, she drew a curtain around the bed, and Missouri heard her removing the armour. Then there was a pause. Ohio popped her head around the curtain, her face flustered.
"Your friend's armour is stuck. I'm going to need help removing it, but first, remove the top part of your own. I can't risk the microorganisms from all the grime on your armour transmitting to her. It may be on hers as well, but I don't want to double the chances of illness."
Missouri nodded and quickly removed his helmet, chest protection, and arm plating, leaving him stood waist upwards in a skin-tight body suit, which prevented the armour from rubbing against the skin and damaging it. He then washed his hands, as Ohio instructed, before joining her behind the curtain. With a grin, she handed him a pair of rubber-like gloves. Massachusetts armour had iced together in certain places, meaning Ohio simply wasn't strong enough to remove it. Missouri took hold of the clasp, determinedly averting his eyes from Massachusetts' chest, which was covered only by her own skin-tight suit and left nothing to the imagination, before yanking it open with all his strength. The ice seal broke, and the armour came apart, slipping off the bed with a clang as it hit the floor. Ohio smiled in appreciation, and Missouri stepped back, knowing his part was done.
"I'll see to you momentarily, as she is in a very risky stage. Once I've changed her into suitable clothing, I want you to tell me how this happened. She shouldn't have gotten hypothermia unless the heating within the suit was faulty. There's a shower and some clothes for you to change into, so I should be done by the time you're finished," she said, pointing to a door he hadn't noticed before.
Missouri nodded and moved to the other end of the room, taking off the rest of his armour and piling it up, before going through the door Ohio had indicated. The room was sparse; a simple shower mechanism in the corner with misted glass and a bench. Missouri shrugged and stripped off completely, before stepping in the shower and turning it on. It was a relief, the warm water running freely down his skin, turning his hair sodden and washing all the dirt off. The water that hit the shower floor was muddy-grey, and Missouri felt slightly shamed that he had allowed himself to get so filthy, and wondered what Ohio must have thought of him. He bet he had stunk.
Eventually he turned the water off and grabbed blindly for a towel, before drying himself with it and then turning to the clothes laid out for him, putting them on with difficulty, due to his bad arm. The Freelancers must have known they were coming, as everything had already been perfectly set out. Even the clothes were a perfect fit. Missouri recognised them as the regulation grey that Command had given them during training, which didn't surprise him. He suspected this base was once part of Command, but obviously, they had been forcefully thrown out by the Freelancers. Missouri opened the door and went back to where Ohio was waiting for him. Massachusetts laid still; her eyes shut, tubes from drips all over her arms.
"What are those?" he asked suspiciously.
"I need to warm the core of her first; otherwise her body could take the cold blood to her heart and kill her. Tell me what happened," she replied, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Missouri sat down opposite and explained how she wasn't even aware of the suit's heating system, as she had become dependent on her A.I. Ohio shook her head in disapproval.
"A person should never count on their A.I. for everything. What happens when that A.I. is taken? Your world falls apart. Either way, if you hadn't warmed her up when you did, it may have been too late. However, you took a huge risk at the same time. As I said, one must heat her core first; otherwise, the circulation of her cold blood could kill her. The heating system in the suit isn't sufficient, as you only heated 'the edges' of her. She's lucky to still be with us."
Missouri looked away, shamefaced. He thought he'd been helping her, but instead he'd nearly done the exact opposite.
"You didn't know," she said sympathetically, "so don't let it bother you."
She reached out and touched his shoulder, causing Missouri to wince in pain. Ohio narrowed her eyes.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked sharply, but didn't wait for a response, instead checking his arm.
"I...believe that he has dislocated his shoulder and hastily brought it back into place," a little voice said from nowhere. Missouri looked around dumbly, searching for it, before realising what it could be.
"That's what I thought, Rho," Ohio said, as a golden A.I. appeared by her shoulder. Rho gave off the impression of timid, her soft voice soft and fluttering; her face round and gentle. Her hair was a curved bob-cut, and she looked quite small in height. Her chosen appearance also showed her wearing a pair of plain, but smart, trousers, and plain shirt. She looked quite similar to her host, in dress and in looks.
"You have an A.I.?" Missouri said, bemused.
"I have an A.I. slot implanted in my body, meaning I don't have to wear a suit. I found it got in the way when I was helping my patients."
"...I see. So, what exactly is this place?"
"When we, meaning myself, Iowa, and a couple of other Freelancers, escaped Command, this base was abandoned at the same time. We took refuge here and made sure it was alright to live in. Then we hacked into Command with one of the A.I. – York's, I think – and accessed their money source. Now, we get a set 'salary' each month, and as Delta locked up his hack with his A.I. code, they can't undo it. They're desperate to get rid of us, but they can't reach us. The mountains give us natural protection. Any Freelancer – whether they are on the run or not – is welcome here. With the exception of the Meta, of course."
Missouri nodded as Ohio pulled out a syringe filled with a bright blue liquid.
"Rho has a brilliant mind. Together we have created literally hundreds of medicines. I have a cure for nearly everything."
"What about a bullet wound to the head?"
"Oh, I've no need to find a cure for that. CPR works just fine."
Massachusetts groaned, her whole body sore and aching. She slowly sat up to see Missouri slumped on a chair. It looked as though he had been keeping an eye on her.
"Zoura?" she called out softly and he looked up at her, concerned.
"I didn't realise you were awake," he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"A bit...tired, but fine otherwise. Why are you here? The last thing I remember is falling over...."
"Yeah, you passed out. I brought you to the Freelancer base and they took care of you. Agent Ohio and her A.I., Rho, saved you."
"You could have left me; you had a bad arm. You could have frozen alongside me."
"It was the right thing to do," Missouri said, shrugging, but smiling at the same time. "And you would have done the same for me."
Massachusetts sat back against her pillows, deep in thought. Would she have? Sure, she risked her ass to get him from the Warthog...but why? She didn't know, but something scared her about walking alone again. Did she secretly crave human interaction, or was she just warming up to Missouri? Massachusetts shook her head.
No. She needed no one.
Once she had Sig, she'd ditch Missouri. The only reason she saved him was because she couldn't do it alone. She needed the extra firepower. Convincing herself that was her reason, she smiled.
However, a part of herself still doubted.
Author's Notes: I did a bit of research for Hypothermia, so I hope Massa's state is at least slightly accurate.
What about Massa's choice? Who thought she would let Missouri fall? Who thought she would save him? I'm interested to know your thoughts.
Lei.