05-15-2014, 08:25 PM
Jay's palms dug into the dirt, spikes of gravel and glass pinched through his gloves, much as they did through the pants of his good knee. He barely noticed them, though. The remaining leg, the one that would not obey his commands but to snarl writhing defiance every time he attempted to move, was stretched out at an odd angle. The side of his boot barely touched the ground, but even that was too much weight.
He assumed he'd been shot. It wouldn't be the first time, except an errant bullet found a strange mark, one not protected by anti-round armor this time. They felt like bee stings when they peppered the skin, but left behind welts and bruises. This was certainly worse than any previous injury he'd sustained. Certainly, he'd never felt himself incapacitated before.
He dug his fingers stubbornly into the dirt like he might pound out his frustrations with his fists. Natalie rounded on Smitty, but it was not until Contee gave the order that he had some clue as to what happened. A kid lay whimpering in the dirt. A machete, unsheathed, and stained with blood lay beside the kid. Smitty grabbed it as he released the boy.
The realization of what happened only pissed him off more. If he was taken out of the field over a fucking ten-year-old stabbing him in the back of the knee, that little shit better run for the hills because there was a goddamned fucking <del>marine</del> Legionnaire gunning for him.
Around them, the ground spewed bits of dirt as random fire peppered their area. Thoughts of Ekene, Natalie knew him? was replaced with the reminder of his own advice. Contee was barking orders at Pavlov, the other alpha Legionnaire, and Smitty was covering Jay.
Stand. Stand you bastard! He attempted to hobble onto the one leg, but between the equipment laden on his chest and back and the utter uselessness of the other, he was biting his tongue to keep from screaming frustration.
He gave in and sat his ass in the dirt. He grabbed a pouch from his utility vest, most were held by Velcro or adjustable straps, but one doubled as a removable clip-on, and quickly pulled it in one fell motion. He had the strap, a heavy duty mesh, clenched between his teeth while redistributing the contents to other pouches when a hand landed on his shoulder.
Natalie was at his side. Why? Well, it is hard to resist a guy in uniform, after all, but now was hardly the time. If his heart weren't racing like a motherfucking rocket in his chest he'd likely have grinned at her. She was drop dead gorgeous.
He rounded the strap around his thigh and tightened it as small as he could to cut the blood flow. At that same instant, he immediately felt better. Like the tourniquet doubled as a drug that flooded his head and body of an energy he'd never known before. The rational part of his training figured it was the last stages of shock, and he'd collapse dead as soon as they rounded into safety, but at least for now, he felt like varsity pitcher throwing the winning ball at State. Like a fucking hero!
"Yes, ma'am! We Legionnaires do what we can!"
His roar of humor never so much as flinched when she and Smitty hauled his broken ass to his feet. Damn! he felt fantastic! His leg still didn't work, nor could he do anything but hobble on Smitty, but who the fuck cared!
Despite the wash of euphoric relief, as soon as the kid came into his line of sight, he was fully capable of shooting him the most seriously fucked up warning of a stare a warrior like him could conjure, and although uncommonly pushed to do so, Jay could be fucking terrifying when he wanted. That kid wouldn't soon forget what he'd done.
Contee was putting in the call for extraction while Pavlov was covering them as the group shuffled for cover.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, May 16 2014, 09:21 PM.
He assumed he'd been shot. It wouldn't be the first time, except an errant bullet found a strange mark, one not protected by anti-round armor this time. They felt like bee stings when they peppered the skin, but left behind welts and bruises. This was certainly worse than any previous injury he'd sustained. Certainly, he'd never felt himself incapacitated before.
He dug his fingers stubbornly into the dirt like he might pound out his frustrations with his fists. Natalie rounded on Smitty, but it was not until Contee gave the order that he had some clue as to what happened. A kid lay whimpering in the dirt. A machete, unsheathed, and stained with blood lay beside the kid. Smitty grabbed it as he released the boy.
The realization of what happened only pissed him off more. If he was taken out of the field over a fucking ten-year-old stabbing him in the back of the knee, that little shit better run for the hills because there was a goddamned fucking <del>marine</del> Legionnaire gunning for him.
Around them, the ground spewed bits of dirt as random fire peppered their area. Thoughts of Ekene, Natalie knew him? was replaced with the reminder of his own advice. Contee was barking orders at Pavlov, the other alpha Legionnaire, and Smitty was covering Jay.
Stand. Stand you bastard! He attempted to hobble onto the one leg, but between the equipment laden on his chest and back and the utter uselessness of the other, he was biting his tongue to keep from screaming frustration.
He gave in and sat his ass in the dirt. He grabbed a pouch from his utility vest, most were held by Velcro or adjustable straps, but one doubled as a removable clip-on, and quickly pulled it in one fell motion. He had the strap, a heavy duty mesh, clenched between his teeth while redistributing the contents to other pouches when a hand landed on his shoulder.
Natalie was at his side. Why? Well, it is hard to resist a guy in uniform, after all, but now was hardly the time. If his heart weren't racing like a motherfucking rocket in his chest he'd likely have grinned at her. She was drop dead gorgeous.
He rounded the strap around his thigh and tightened it as small as he could to cut the blood flow. At that same instant, he immediately felt better. Like the tourniquet doubled as a drug that flooded his head and body of an energy he'd never known before. The rational part of his training figured it was the last stages of shock, and he'd collapse dead as soon as they rounded into safety, but at least for now, he felt like varsity pitcher throwing the winning ball at State. Like a fucking hero!
"Yes, ma'am! We Legionnaires do what we can!"
His roar of humor never so much as flinched when she and Smitty hauled his broken ass to his feet. Damn! he felt fantastic! His leg still didn't work, nor could he do anything but hobble on Smitty, but who the fuck cared!
Despite the wash of euphoric relief, as soon as the kid came into his line of sight, he was fully capable of shooting him the most seriously fucked up warning of a stare a warrior like him could conjure, and although uncommonly pushed to do so, Jay could be fucking terrifying when he wanted. That kid wouldn't soon forget what he'd done.
Contee was putting in the call for extraction while Pavlov was covering them as the group shuffled for cover.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, May 16 2014, 09:21 PM.
Only darkness shows you the light.