crossmyheartandhope (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crossmyheartandhope) wrote2022-01-07 10:08 pm
crossmyheartandhope) wrote2022-01-07 10:08 pm
Entry tags:
Memory 34: Hostage
"Take another step and I'll kill him."
There's a knife pressed to the kid's throat, to back up the threat, and Hurricane doesn't take another step. Instead he raises both hands, in the universal symbol of surrender.
"Hey," Hurricane says. "We're here to help. You don't gotta hurt no one."
The chances of the woman with the knife hurting no one is next to nothing. The room is pitch black, the only light that of the moon shining in through the hole caved in the roof. He can't pick out what's on the floor, among all the rubble, but his HUD has identified human figures: informs him, in red block text, that there are no signs of life.
"I'll kill him," says the woman. "I know what you are. They're inside him, just like they were inside me."
The little boy that she's holding says, "She's crazy. There's nothing the matter with me."
"What's up?" says Nemesis' voice over the comms. "What's going on?" and Hurricane realizes, belatedly, that he forgot to toggle comms off before he spoke.
He can't exactly answer without letting the woman know that reinforcements are coming, so instead, he says, "Just let him go, okay? Just put the knife down."
"Infected bullshit," says Mayu's voice, over the comms."I'm right by him. I've got this."
"He's mine," says the woman holding the knife. "I found him first. I have to keep him safe. Don't you understand? I cut them out of me, and I can cut them out of him, too."
Hurricane takes a shaky breath in. He says, "Hey, no one's gotta get cut. Okay? What's he, like, seven years old? And he don't got any weapons or nothing. Just – let him go, okay? He ain't doing nothing to you."
The boy is crying, now; his harsh, shaky breaths fill the room as he sobs.
Something sick and powerless twists inside Hurricane at the sound of it. His suit is fast, but not fast enough to get there in time to help. Not when all the woman has to do is push down, just a little harder.
As it turns out, she doesn't even have time for that much.
Wildfire leaps in through the gaping hole in the roof, the laser edge of her axe blade glowing faintly orange in the dimly-lit room. It takes the knife arm off at the shoulder; there's no blood, but the sizzling smell of burned flesh fills the air.
Hurricane's moving in half an instant – darts in to snatch up the boy.
It's just in time. The woman howls and writhes, going down to the ground, but it's bare seconds before she's prying the knife from the fingers of her own severed arm and lurching toward them again, as though the pain doesn't matter as much as whatever awful thing is being whispered in her mind.
"They're in him," she sobs. "They're in him. I can cut them out. I can cut them –"
Wildfire's axe comes down again, and suddenly there's silence.
In Hurricane's arms, the boy weeps softly.
There's a knife pressed to the kid's throat, to back up the threat, and Hurricane doesn't take another step. Instead he raises both hands, in the universal symbol of surrender.
"Hey," Hurricane says. "We're here to help. You don't gotta hurt no one."
The chances of the woman with the knife hurting no one is next to nothing. The room is pitch black, the only light that of the moon shining in through the hole caved in the roof. He can't pick out what's on the floor, among all the rubble, but his HUD has identified human figures: informs him, in red block text, that there are no signs of life.
"I'll kill him," says the woman. "I know what you are. They're inside him, just like they were inside me."
The little boy that she's holding says, "She's crazy. There's nothing the matter with me."
"What's up?" says Nemesis' voice over the comms. "What's going on?" and Hurricane realizes, belatedly, that he forgot to toggle comms off before he spoke.
He can't exactly answer without letting the woman know that reinforcements are coming, so instead, he says, "Just let him go, okay? Just put the knife down."
"Infected bullshit," says Mayu's voice, over the comms."I'm right by him. I've got this."
"He's mine," says the woman holding the knife. "I found him first. I have to keep him safe. Don't you understand? I cut them out of me, and I can cut them out of him, too."
Hurricane takes a shaky breath in. He says, "Hey, no one's gotta get cut. Okay? What's he, like, seven years old? And he don't got any weapons or nothing. Just – let him go, okay? He ain't doing nothing to you."
The boy is crying, now; his harsh, shaky breaths fill the room as he sobs.
Something sick and powerless twists inside Hurricane at the sound of it. His suit is fast, but not fast enough to get there in time to help. Not when all the woman has to do is push down, just a little harder.
As it turns out, she doesn't even have time for that much.
Wildfire leaps in through the gaping hole in the roof, the laser edge of her axe blade glowing faintly orange in the dimly-lit room. It takes the knife arm off at the shoulder; there's no blood, but the sizzling smell of burned flesh fills the air.
Hurricane's moving in half an instant – darts in to snatch up the boy.
It's just in time. The woman howls and writhes, going down to the ground, but it's bare seconds before she's prying the knife from the fingers of her own severed arm and lurching toward them again, as though the pain doesn't matter as much as whatever awful thing is being whispered in her mind.
"They're in him," she sobs. "They're in him. I can cut them out. I can cut them –"
Wildfire's axe comes down again, and suddenly there's silence.
In Hurricane's arms, the boy weeps softly.