The site had been silent for almost a day now. Sparrow had watched from a good vantage point, far away from the fighting, as the Locust attacked the Gears. The Gears hadn't had a chance, desperately fighting against overwhelming odds to no avail; they were all dead within an hour. The Locust had moved through the camp, stopping for a few minutes in the centre; what for, Sparrow didn't care. They moved on quickly after that, but Sparrow didn't move; the Gears would send a team to investigate the sudden silence of the camp and being discovered was an amateur mistake. She snorted; she was no amateur.
The investigative Gears had come and gone, their helicopter making the tree she was sitting in shake back and forth alarmingly – she knew that if she moved, they'd see her so she held on, and now the surrounding forest was back to normal. Sparrow peered around, deeming it safe, and slid down the trunk of the tree; this was going to be a good haul.
The protective wall had been blown apart, making it easy for her to slip through into the camp. Although it was apparently deserted, Sparrow moved very carefully planning each movement as she made her way through the camp. Her swag bag slowly filled itself as her hands darted through the possessions of the dead Gears, sorting valuables from junk with a practised eye. She left the weapons alone; COG weapons were logged to their owners and she could be executed for looting if she tried to fence them. It was just common sense not to take them.
Her bag was half full but she'd combed through almost the whole camp and everything else was junk. The command tent was the only thing left, and she was extra careful heading there; the Locust had been strangely interested in what was in the tent. Curiously she entered it, eyes scanning for any traps; there were dead officers all over the place and every piece of furniture had been smashed. Sparrow knelt beside the nearest Gear officer, an older man with grey eyes and a kind face, and started rifling through his pockets; she came up with nothing of value and looked at his face again. He was the only one in the tent who had no visible injuries; blood had pooled underneath him – he'd been shot in the back. A symbol was etched onto his shoulder plate, a symbol she recognised.
"Echo…"
She looked again at the old man lying in front of her, and respectfully reached up to close his eyes. Carefully she rearranged him so he looked more peaceful, and went back to rifling through the pockets and other belongings of the rest of the officers. One of them was lying strangely, curled up as if to protect something; carefully Sparrow went over him and found he was holding a data stick. Shrugging, she pocketed it and the petty cash she found, and then decided her foraging was finished. Sparrow left the command tent, carefully moving through the camp and heading out a different way from which she came in. She wasn't watching where was going, and so she was unprepared for the stumble and fall that happened.
Angry with herself for not paying attention, she turned on the ground to see what she'd tripped over and saw another Gear lying there. Never one to pass up opportunistic looting, she started rifling through his pockets – only to jump backwards when he groaned. Her hand found a stick and she pointed it at him, waiting to see if it was a trap; he didn't move, but she kept the stick in a threatening position just in case. Curious, she poked him with the stick; he groaned again and she scrambled away. A quick inspection showed that his leg was broken and his nose was bleeding sluggishly; he couldn't offer any resistance to her if she wanted something of his. Keeping the stick in hand she rifled through his pockets, coming up with some kind of strange carving of an animal and the scope of a sniper rifle. Looking through it she could see the benefit of it, thumbing the zoom.
"Help… me…"
She looked at the Gear; he was staring at her, a pleading look in his eyes; his hand stretched out to touch her arm and she recoiled from his clammy touch. Mistakenly she met his eyes; they were surprisingly clear, an interesting deep blue colour. She couldn't look away; they held her captive, and she felt a compulsion to help him. Finally she managed to tear herself away from it and stared down at him; he was completely helpless. She smirked at him.
"You're out of luck you fucking fascist. I would never help a Gear."
His eyes closed and apparently he passed out again, and she stared at him. He was so helpless… suddenly it was like she was 8 again and the same sense of hopelessness and desperate loneliness washed over her. Swallowing, Sparrow looked him over again; if she got him out of the uniform, the other Stranded might let him stay long enough to heal.
"Oh I can't believe I'm about to do this…"
She started stripping him out of the Gear uniform, getting him down to his underwear before she remembered she couldn't bring a mostly-naked man back; quickly she returned to the camp and found spare civilian clothes. She dressed him, trying to avoid hurting him more, and then dragged him upright. His tags fell out of the shirt to dangle clinking from their chain and she slipped them off. Juggling him she slipped them without thinking into her pocket and started dragging him towards camp, not believing what she was doing. There was just something in his eyes… Sparrow shook her head and kept dragging him.
"This is not going to go down well."