Consciousness came back, and what came with it wasn't pretty.
The first thing Sergeant Major Douglas Avery Holiday did was groan aloud and curse even louder, as all sensation returned. Ringing in his ears. Pain and stiffness shooting all through his entire body. He sat up groggily where he was to find himself laying in the corner of the Black Hawk's cabin, up against the wall. He had a sudden coughing fit, as he tried to breath, sucking in some smoke. His arm shot up over his mouth and nose to guard them. His face was damp with blood and stung from a series of cuts, throbbing, swelling bruises... his eyes burned with a life of their own. As he struggled to regain his breath, he reached into his pockets, fumbling within them for his pair of protective goggles, putting them on. He forced his eyes open, to find small fires peppered all around the cabin... on the walls, floor and some of the seats.
"Out of the... frying pan..."
The smoke billowing around the interior was thick and difficult to see through... the sour taste of it filling his senses... he couldn't even make out the cockpit, but did catch the sight of two shapes laying on the floor of the cabin together. Debris and fallen equipment was scattered all over the cabin, and he knocked it this way and that as he scrambled up to his feet again, nearly striking his head against the ceiling in the process. Vertigo taking him for a moment or two when he was up. For a few seconds he was stunned, unsure where he was, and what to do... but then he caught sight of a familiar red object, out the corner of his eye. Despite the crash, the fire extinguisher remained securely attached to the wall and intact for usage.
Thank God for small favours.
Coughing and retching all the way over to it, he tore it loose from its holding and took it up in both hands, aiming the nozzle at the closest fire and letting loose. The cold, white mist of foam burst out at once, adding to the obscuring field of the smoke. He focused on each of the fires, putting them out, one after another. He stepped over to the prone figures in the smoke, aimed into the cockpit and sprayed at the control panel for good measure, putting out some of the small fires in there. When he was satisfied they were extinguished, he moved back into the cabin and finished up with the last of them. When it was done, he tossed aside the fire extinguisher noisily and moved over to one of the broken windows, breathing the cold air streaming through it. Waiting for the smoke to clear and settle out of the Black Hawk.
It was daytime outside from the look of it, a weak orange light streaming over the area, filtered by the dense clouds of smoke filling the air. There were more fires crackling around the outside of the helicopter, amid the debris they had crashed through. He couldn't get much better of a look from inside the compartment, but he could see the shapes of buildings, some ruined and some relatively intact. drawing a low breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, working to get a hold of himself. To recover from the shock of what had happened. His mind was drawing blanks, and the ringing in his head lingered. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened, how they had crashed. Maybe it would come back, or he could get the answers from someone else. Raising a hand to his intact headset, he opened his comlink and reached out to Den Mother's frequency.
"Come in, Den Mother? Are you there? This is Holiday, calling for assistance! We've crashed our Black Hawk... somewhere in or near Auburn, and need immediate extraction! Do you read me? Come in Shepard!"
There was only static on the line in response, no words came through. His jaw tightened with growing frustration and he shook his head. He tried to get through a few more times, and continued to fail. He remembered they hadn't been able to reach anyone before the crash, in the wake of the Vault's destruction... but he tried all the same, not about to give up yet. Remembering the F.E.A.R. Commissioner's communication channel, he switched over to it at once, speaking firmly into the line again.
"Tomcat, come in. Holiday to Tomcat, come in! Your team and I have crash landed somewhere and need a medical airlift out of Fairport! Come in! Don't leave us hanging here, Betters!"
As it had been before with Den Mother, trying a few times, he got nothing but dead air in response. It was one thing not to be able to get through to Delta, but F.E.A.R. had access to a Hannibal 3 Spy Satellite. If it was down, or unable to reach them, the situation was well and truly on its way to being fucked. He switched over to the short wave comm channel, and listened in instead of speaking, turning the dial on his headset. He heard familiar voices, names, requesting assistance on the Delta Force frequency. Listing their locations... but he couldn't quite make them all out... the static kept fluctuating from bearable to incomprehensible. At least he had something to go off of... he wasn't the only survivor. And on the subject of survivors, he turned off the comlink channel at last, and looked back down the helicopter to the cockpit, slowly taking off his goggles again and tucking them back into a pouch.
By now the smoke had all filtered out of the opened side of the Black Hawk... and he glimpsed the two of them at last. Laying still together. The F.E.A.R. Point Man's bulky armored form was partially on top of Jin's svelte one, holding on to her protectively, his much bigger mass shielding her during the course of the crash. Holiday remembered that... a flash coming back, as the helicopter had gone into a tailspin. The masked man had pulled her away from the door, to the floor and held her fast. Holiday walked down the helicopter towards them, keeping his head low, boots crunching glass and stepping on spent brass shell casings. The weapon in question lay on the floor next to the Point Man, among the brass. He remembered discharging his RPL at some point... but could be damned if he could remember what he had been shooting at. He shook his aching head, it would all come back soon enough.
Probably faster than he wanted.
Kneeling beside the Point Man, he recovered his RPL, slinging it over his shoulder and grasping the Point Man by each of the straps on his suit's shoulders. He was a heavy one... but he pulled the Point Man off and lay him beside Jin, leaning over and examining him. He remained still where he lay... and his familiar white and dark grey D-12 Heavy Armor variant was so thick Holiday couldn't tell if he was breathing. The suit was heavily battered, as it had been before the crash, and marked with burns and bullets... it was made damn well. He was sorely tempted, not for the first time, to join the F.E.A.R. Team for the chance to wear one of those babies alone. Ghosts and psychics be damned.
Finally, he reached down carefully for the Point Man's neck, grasping his black balaclava and preparing to pull it up and off. He'd never gotten a chance to see him without the mask, but then he hadn't known him long. He was the only F.E.A.R. Combat Operative who had been wearing one, for whatever reason. Before he could remove it, a large, covered arm shot up, gloved hand grasping and locking Holiday's wrist in a vice grip. Holiday started in surprise, but caught himself quickly, looking back down at his startled expression reflected in the Point Man's goggle lenses. Although he couldn't see through the red tint, the man in question on the other side of them sure as hell could. Holiday breathed with some relief, laughing under his breath with exasperation.
"You are one crazy son of a bitch... could have given me a goddamn heart attack.", Holiday spoke with some tired, fond amusement, shaking his head slowly. Silently relived not to be on his own any longer. Especially considering who the backup was. "Up you get, soldier. We ain't getting payed by the hour. Thanks for waking up when you did. I sure as hell didn't want to start the mouth to mouth. Ease up a bit on the grip, would ya? Do I look like one of those test tube motherfuckers?"
The Point Man stared back up at him for a few moments silently, before complying, grip loosening but remaining. Holiday pulled him up to his knees, where the Point Man remained for a bit, visibly recovering from the crash. Although he made no pained sounds or breaths that Holiday could hear, it was evident he needed a moment, the wind swept from his sails. All the same, Holiday was impressed by his recovery time, especially after what he had miraculously survived even before the crash.
"Tough piece of work, aren't you big guy? What are you made of, Adamantium? Not a meaningful scratch on you, even now. Should have figured. If you can take a nuke head on, what's a little helicopter crash?"
The Point Man slowly looked up at him again, tilting his head slightly... and then suddenly jerked to the side, staring down at the figure next to him. He immediately lowered himself again over her, moving her off her side to lay on her back, leaning down closer to check on her. Holiday moved over to the opposite side as well to get a better look at the woman in question. F.E.A.R.'s Technical Officer, Combat Medic and Forensics Specialist Jin Sun-Kwon lay covered in bruises and cuts, with a number of marks on her lightweight olive green D-12 Light Armor variant... a bodysuit. Fewer marks than the Point Man's heavy variant, but burnt up a bit nevertheless. The D-12 red marking on her chest had been singed slightly, but remained visible, along with the markings on her shoulder... and the red on each of her gloves index fingers. He remembered wanting to ask her about that, and not getting the chance. She still wore her headset as well, it hadn't been damaged in the crash.
Drawing closer, Holiday took off a glove and pressed his bare hand to her neck, leaning in closer to her mouth and listening. Throbbing against his fingers. Slow but steady breaths... it was an immediate load off his mind. He smiled a bit with relief, looked up at the Point Man, clapping him encouragingly on the shoulder a couple times.
"She's breathing, probably going to be ok. Thank Christ. You can rest easy, man."
The Point Man did not speak... as he never had in Holiday's presence, nor anyone else, apparently. Holiday remembered the first time he had seen him, he had been with First Lieutenant Jankowski not long before the combat operative had vanished. Before they had been dispatched with their respective Delta Force squad escorts to the South River Wastewater Treatment Plant, in pursuit of the batshit crazy cannibal psychic commanding Armacham's Replica clone troops. The Point Man had moved past him and climbed on to the helicopter first, taking his seat and remaining silent. Staring straight ahead without moving a muscle, as though in a trance, or sleep walking. Jankowski had done all the talking for the two at that point. He remembered what Jin had told him about the new arrival at F.E.A.R, who had only joined the team about a week before, a transfer from a previous unknown military posting. When Holiday had asked more about him, after the last crash. Apparently he was a mute... during the operation in Fairport Betters had done the speaking for him on the comlink... but what he lacked in speech, he more than made up for in combat efficiency. And good looks, at least according to Jin.
Holiday could certainly testify to the efficiency part, at least.
All that felt like it had been ages ago. Another world, gradually returning to the Sergeant Major. Nevertheless, there was a shift in the silent Point Man's posture... he became more at ease as he knelt beside her, looked her over for any injuries. Relieved. His gloved hand lowered to her cut cheek, touching it carefully, brushing the dark hair that had stayed tied up in her ponytail. Tracing along the various bruises and cuts she had collected both before and during the crash. Holiday turned away from the strangely tender scene back to the cockpit, stepping inside and giving the Point Man a moment. He looked over to the open door for a moment, to find the minigun emplacement on the side of the Black Hawk had been torn off in the midst of the crash, and was nowhere to be seen. Great. Turning he went and checked in on the only other remaining occupant inside the Black Hawk, the pilot himself, Bremmer. The pilot had picked up him and Jin after Dust 2 had been brought down, and the Point Man had been forced to proceed ahead to the Origin Facility and Vault alone.
It seemed every Black Hawk they set foot in was doomed at some point or another. Alice Wade had been right to fear that much, at least... though her solution of fleeing their protective custody in a car hadn't proven any better for her. The front windows of the helicopter were as smashed as the ones on the sides of it, littering the cockpit with shards. Holiday brushed off the seat of the co-pilot's chair after squeezing his way in, sitting down and leaning forward to examine the still and silent pilot. He still had his headset on... and his seat belts criss-crossing over his torso keeping him securely in place. Holiday leaned in close, putting his fingers on his neck and listening carefully... and heard and felt it, the slow, quiet escaping of air. He leaned back a bit and looked over the pilot for any wounds... but could find nothing major, nor any broken bones he could see. His limbs were intact, down at his sides, and he was merely out cold. Holiday breathed a sigh of relief, apparently their luck was still managing to hold out.
Everyone had made it. At least aboard the chopper. He looked back down towards the Point Man, speaking up again.
"Bremmer's ok too... superficial lacerations, bruises, nothing major from what I can determine, but they'll both be out for awhile yet from the looks of it."
The Point Man looked up at him from Jin for a moment and nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Holiday rubbed his stubble lined jaw, put his glove back on and rose from the co-pilot chair, stepping past Bremmer. He surveyed the helicopter one more time, the damage to it all. Then, moving over to the open side door of the Black Hawk's cabin. On the way past, he tapped the Point Man on the shoulder and beckoned for him to follow suit. Stepping down off the Black Hawk and touching the ground, rubble crunching beneath his boots, turning back over to where the Point Man remained beside Jin.
"Come outside with me, let's get the lay of the land. Figure out what we're dealing with here. Your sleepin' beauty will keep for a minute, don't worry."
The Point Man stared at him for a moment, hesitating... looking back down at Jin. Watching her carefully as she breathed. At last, he climbed up to his feet, stance stiff and reluctant, but he nodded at Holiday. Holiday stepped away from the Black Hawk to give him some room, moving over the rubble towards the pavement of the road, and turned back, looking over the scene that greeted him. The Black Hawk had crashed through the ruins of an already devastated building, landing amid the rubble next to the road. It sat propped up on the rubble pile of bricks, wood and stone, several small fires amid the heap, but not close enough to the fuel tank to be of worry. The flames leap and crackled, throwing light over the slowly still spinning blade of the Black Hawk. With each revolution of the blade, the metal structure of the helicopter creaked and groaned.
Beyond it lie the devastated and gnarled landscape of Auburn, a number of the tightly packed apartment buildings and shops, destroyed and burning, either outright collapsed or partially destroyed. Smoke rose high into the skies... the land backed by the still faint orange glow of the morning sun beyond the clouds and the haze of smoke in the air. The clouds were thick and dark... a storm was brewing in them... even with the mushroom cloud dissipated. Cars littered the streets, turned over, burning or wrecked... and all of them abandoned. Holiday couldn't see a sign of anyone, alive or otherwise... no civilian bodies among the assorted rubble. The buildings were more ruined the closer they drew to the Origin Facility's explosion, and were better off closer to where they now resided. They had crash landed not far outside the Auburn District from the looks of things, and some of the signs he saw along the road. Most of the buildings out here were intact, with superficial but noticeable damage. The electricity was still running out here, a number of street lights were still on, washing their rusty electrical lighting over the area. Shaking his head at the gnarled landscape, the Sergeant Major muttered under his breath as he was joined by the other survivor.
"Ghostville... U.S.A..."
The towering Point Man moved silently to his side, stopping there, and was also getting a lay of the land... though his gaze had shifted to the dying sun, reflected in his goggles. Holiday released a low, impressed whistle at the devastated landscape leading towards ground zero of the last. The buildings were more burnt the further he looked... he could not glimpse the crater from where they were, or the center of the Auburn District, but what he could see among the buildings was more than enough. He remembered what he had seen before the helicopter had crashed... a mushroom cloud, rising high into the skies, at the epicenter of the area... but they had been still too far up to judge the full extent of the damage on the ground level. Now he had a much better idea. He couldn't imagine what was happening deeper into Fairport... how many people were dead out there... or maybe he just didn't want to.
Thousands to tens of thousands must have been lost in the event, easily, based on the explosion and population size and density. There would be even more, before all was said and done. The ramifications would be forever felt by the entire country, in the aftermath of it all.
"Jesus Harold Christ. And this is just the edge of the blast radius. Can't imagine what that fucking crater must look like."
The Point Man merely nodded beside him, but remained withdrawn from it. Holiday looked up and down the road, deeper into Auburn, and further away from it. He sighed tiredly. He didn't like the position they were in... but he knew what had to be done. Reestablishing the chain of command. Locating survivors. Restoring order. Putting his half assed plan together and speaking again even as he was still formulating it. Looking back over to the Point Man and speaking carefully.
"Ok, here's where we're at. We're in the middle of a FUBAR situation. We have two unconscious people, who might be too injured to move just yet. I'm no doc, but there could be some internal bleeding. We can't get through to anyone on the outside from here, too much interference. We have potential, likely hostiles somewhere out here. Replica or not, Armacham is still in the picture. Fairport is fucked, and we need to find a way out of it. I'm going to recon the area, see if I can contact the outside at another location. I'll look for some more survivors, Delta, civilians or law enforcement. Anyone. I heard some voices coming in and out of the static on the short wave comlink, they're somewhere out there. You went ahead last time, dealt with more than enough crazy shit already. Point Man or not, it's your turn to stay put for awhile. You stay here with Jin and Bremmer, hold down the crash site until they wake up or I get back with help. When I find someone or something out about the situation, I'll contact you on your short wave comlink frequency. Doesn't seem to be as affected."
Holiday gave the Point Man some time to consider it all, glancing down over his armor to his pistol holsters. He had two of them on either side of his waist, one empty, the other with an AT-14 like his own. No primary weaponry had been on him after they'd recovered him from the rubble, to little surprise... he had probably been armed to the teeth before the explosion. He remembered Jin's panic when they had honed in on his suit's signal... when Holiday had dragged his unconscious form on to the chopper. Her scrambling and checking his vitals as they had taken off into the air again. Her relief and his own when she found he was still breathing. He glanced to the RPL slung over his own shoulder, and he made his decision with ease, taking it off and holding it out to the Point Man in offering.
"Here, take my weapon, you'll need it. That pistol's all well and good, but you need some firepower. I know what you can do with it. I'll find something else. Protect them with your life. I'll be back before you know it."
The Point Man looked between Holiday and the RPL for a moment, before reaching out and taking it. Slinging the submachine gun and taking it up in both hands, nodding appreciatively. Holiday grinned, producing his AT-14 in one hand, and forming the other hand into a fist, holding it out to the Point Man.
"Right here, man."
The silent operative stared at the fist, and looked back up at Holiday. For a long moment, Holiday thought he didn't understand the meaning... he was about to pull back his fist, but slowly the Point Man began to raise his own, copying the gesture. Bumping their gloved fists together lightly. Holiday grinned again at that, pleased. He was sharper on the uptake than he seemed. Still, they would work on that some more later. In the meantime, turning on the heel of his boot, he strode away from the crash site, moving over the rubble and on to the road. Proceeding down it towards the distant beckoning lights of Auburn's perimeter. Away from most of the devastation.
When he was far down the road, Holiday stopped and looked back once to the crash site, where the F.E.A.R. Combat Operative remained, standing still where he had left him. Like a statue, or more accurately a sentinel. Jin and Bremmer would be ok, the Sergeant Major knew, couldn't be in better hands than those of the enigmatic super soldier. All the same, he regretted the necessity of leaving them. He'd have to make it as quickly as he could. Going forward, he would try to avoid splitting up with the others. He knew how well that had worked out for everyone, of late. Holiday flashed him a thumbs up and a sore faced grin.
The Point Man rose a gloved hand slowly, then returning Holiday's thumbs up sign, as he had the fist bump. He knew human gestures, at least. There was probably a great deal more going on in his head than he was showing. Holiday couldn't imagine the hell it was to go through life without a voice. Unable to be himself. Never mind hunting ghosts and whatever else for a living. Satisfied, Holiday moved on again, down the road, moving among the buildings, shadow stirring along walls from the sunlight through the clouds of smoke. He reached into one of his pouches and produced his datapad, looking it over.
There were no cracks or any damage from the crash, at least... they were built damn well. To last. Switching it on, he accessed the Datanet and began tracking the radio signals on the short wave comlink frequency. He glanced down at his datapad's display, and he followed the directions of the markers that were forming. Locating the Delta Force units by their radio signatures. He looked on ahead down the silent road, moving into in alley and walking between the buildings, pistol at the ready. He already knew they were all going to have their work cut out for them.
Holiday just didn't know how much of it, yet.