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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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Apr 18, 2013 23:51:17 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Apr 18, 2013 23:51:17 GMT -5
Dutch watched the sky for Mo to swoop in on their speeder. His heart hammered horridly in his chest as the riot swept over the stadium. The roar was deafening, and as his gray eyes swept over the crowd he saw civilians fighting tooth and nail against the Sith. Stolen rifles drilled into squads of troopers, and helms were crushed in by makeshift weapons.The arena was a sea of writhing, struggling bodies. And the stage was no different by that point. Civilians from the front row had flooded onto the stage to aid the DLA, while more troopers flooded from backstage. Dutch swore in a steady stream, and fought desperately against the Sith. His pistol thundered in one hand while his free arm wrestled and struck any enemy near him. Not that he wasn't taking his fair share, a cut across his jawline bled freely and he could feel bruises blossoming under his skin. That didn't stop him from fighting. He had to hold out until Mo arrived. C'mon...
A pistol whip to the side of his head made Dutch see stars. He rolled away and lined up a shot even as he fell. The slug tore the attacker's throat out in a shower of red that splashed onto Dutch. He growled and rolled away from the corpse as it fell, using the momentum to knock another Sith to the ground. A flurry of left jabs subdued the trooper. His fists ached something awful from the fighting, and when he heard the whine of a speeder bike engine he could sing. His eyes snapped up to see the vehicle with Mo. Dutch flagged her down before sending on last left cross to another trooper. His pistol was slid into its holster and he began to run down the stage. As Mo pulled up aside he leaped over to swing himself in front of her.
"Hold on!"
He bellowed as his hands gripped the handlebars. His right hand cranked down on the vehicles throttle and with loud whir the engine revved. Dutch swooped the two around and upwards to the rim of the area. Below the area appeared to be nothing more than a writhing mass. As they breached into the sky, the haze of Smog City began to whip by. The massive skyscraper's lights illuminated the night, along with the neon signs that cluttered everywhere now. It had once been a much less disgusting place, but the past year had been less than good for it. Dutch hated what it had become. Usine had once been a warm and welcoming port city, now replaced with the blight of an urban landscape. He glanced a quick look back at Mo and heard the telltale wail of following speeder bikes.
"Frak!"
Dutch spat as he wrenched harder onto the throttle and his boot flicked the gear shift. The speeder screeched in protest, but obeyed. The smog made his eyes hurt as they flew through it, though the high speeds probably didn't help. He hoped Mo was holding on tight enough when he juked them to a sudden right, then a left, then two more rights to try and shake the pursuers. Dutch had no idea how many pursuers there were, but hoped at least he threw them for a loop. His hands angled the speeder upwards to avoid a low building, only for a blaster bolt to suddenly strike the building below them. A string of curses left Dutch as he snapped around another corner, and pushed the machine to its limits.
"Heard anything from anyone yet?
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Meira
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Apr 23, 2013 17:23:32 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Apr 23, 2013 17:23:32 GMT -5
The bike thundered through the tunnels under the stadium seats. Were it not for the adrenaline, she might not have been able to handle the noise. But her heart hammered at the same speed as the bike's engine and was infinitely louder in her ears. All she could hear was the rabbit-fast thump thump thump as she hurtled her way toward the one thing that mattered now that their plans had shattered around them like broken glass. Get him out. Keep him safe. These words repeated again and again in her mind like a desperate prayer. They couldn't lose him again. She couldn't lose him again.
As she skidded around a corner into one of the entry ramps, the full carnage of what the rally had turned into was laid out before her. Civilians fought like wild, cornered animals, fierce and feral against the armed Sith soldiers. In the chaos, their arms and armor gave them only a slight advantage over the mob, and even with that, it was hard to tell which side might win out. Already, the ground was becoming crowded with the dead and wounded as those that fell were trampled in the struggle. It would be impossible to wash out the blood, she was sure. But Mo had to see through the crowd and the clamor. She had to find him. And just like that, she could see him. Far and away, only a speck in this tumultuous sea, but fighting. One thing was certain, however. She'd never reach him from here, not without riding down civilians and soldiers alike.
With a grunt, Mo revved the engine and spun the speeder around and back into the tunnel searching until she found a way to climb higher. And she did, up and up she went until she could climb no more. Then once again, she turned inward and at full speed, launched into the stadium. The bike soared high over the crowd, and then she brought it down. Her descent was steep and frightening, but she couldn't risk hurting their comrades. The bike landed in a roar beside the stage. Dutch had seen her and was already running toward the bike. Just in time, Mo slid herself back along the seat and he landed in front of her. He didn't have to tell her to hold on. Her hands were already snaking around his abdomen when he shouted the words, and in an instant, they were off.
They climbed, their ascent almost vertical it seemed to the Mirialan woman. She felt Dantooine pulling her down as they rose, but she held Dutch tight with an iron grip and soon they were over the lip of the stadium. The smog that had given the city it's new name burned her throat and eyes and Mo was caught in a coughing fit for a few moments as they fled. But when the sound of more bikes rose behind them, Mo cursed and chanced a look over her shoulder. One, two, three, four. She counted as each in turn crested over the top of the stadium. She couldn't help a scream as Dutch pushed the bike beyond what limits she might have expected it to have, dipping and dodging and trying to lose the pursuers. It worked on one. Mo managed to catch the flash as one speeder exploded against a building. But the other three were still hot on their trail. And now they were firing.
"Heard anything from anyone yet?"
"No." she replied. "My comm sounds fried. Nothing is coming through clearly. Careful, I'm gonna move around you."
In a state of what she would later only be able to describe as insanity, Mo ducked her head under Dutch's right arm and slid her body around him until she was once again securely sat on the bike, but now in front of him and facing in reverse. She spared only a moment to give the man a fleeting smile and a quick "Hi." before removing his blaster pistol from its holster and leaning around him to shoot at their pursuers. She shot, and cursed, many times. Each shot seemed to sail just over a shoulder or past a leg. She hated blasters. Soon, the gun wouldn't fire at all. She'd overheated it. Cursing again, Mo slid the blaster back where it belonged and leaned her head back to look Dutch in the eye. "That didn't work. Go faster!"
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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Apr 23, 2013 23:25:13 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Apr 23, 2013 23:25:13 GMT -5
"Damn." Dutch growled. That was not a good sign if her comm wasn't working as well. That meant that the Sith probably had the entire city on a comm lockdown. They were too well prepared for such an event. "Damn!" Came again as Mo's words were realized. She slid her lithe form around him, and Dutch couldn't help but blink while trying not to suddenly crash them from the feeling of her body against his. He didn't even respond to her 'Hi', a single raised eyebrow given with an exasperated expression. Dutch hoped she didn't see him blushing furiously in the gloom of the city. That was so the last thing he needed at that moment was to get too excited when desperately fleeing for their lives. He did his best to keep the speeder steady as she began to use his pistol to fire back at them. Only to hear it began to over heat. Dutch gritted his teeth as Mo slid it back into its holster with an obvious statement.
"Working on it!"
He bellowed in response over the roar of the passing smog. Dutch looked around frantically for a way to avoid the pursuers, but it was clear that the outskirts of the city weren't going to lead to freedom. They would need to go deeper into the Smog City. That was where the Sith presence was strongest, but also where their new friends wouldn't be able to follow them as easily. And Dutch knew he could out fly any speeder-jockey the Sith had. He angled the speeder bike towards the city, another glance back to see they were one pursuer short. That was good. His hand slammed on the throttle and his boots clicked the clutch until the speeder screeched and bellowed further into the smog. Dutch's heart slammed into his chest as a fresh surge of adrenaline pumped into him. He had to try and shake them some more. Without any warning Dutch pitched the speeder straight down into the ghetto bellow. He whooped as the speeder was pulled up just in time to avoid the duracrete road below.
Despite it all Dutch began laughing maniacally as he dipped and swerved to avoid buildings, vehicles and people alike. The city loomed closer and he cranked on the speeder to shoot upwards suddenly, grinning as Mo would slam into him from the force of the maneuver. Dutch continued to chuckle as he suddenly turned into the heart of the city. He accelerated but heard the Sith still behind them. Frakking hell they're stubborn... Once more he scanned the area frantically for something, anything to use to their advantage. They locked on a busy airway further downtown.
"Whatever you do. Don't turn around."
Dutch said as calmly as he could. He angled the speeder and decelerated slightly. With steady hands he waited, and watched. Not yet... not yet...NOW Suddenly he whooped loudly and rapidly shift the speeder to go as fast as it could. It again screamed in protest but they shot out like one of Mo's arrows. He juked and tumbled as speeders blasted by with blaring horns and streams of curses, but as fast as they had entered they exited the traffic completely unharmed. Dutch's laugh of victory only escalated as the tell-tale whumph! of a speeder exploding behind them sounded. Followed by another. Two down, hopefully not many more to go. Until he passed a side-street that had several other speeders waiting for them. His laughter cut off and he desperately thought of a new plan. Grey eyes glanced down, expecting to see the speeder's gauges but instead got an eye-full of Mo's chest. He quickly glanced away to see the speeder model number etched into the handlebar near the throttle. His eyes grew wide as did his smile.
"It's a T617! IT'S A T617!"
He cried out in victory. Without further explanation he looked to his left at the engine and laughed. They were gonna get away, he knew it. Careful to keep them still dodging and diving from blaster shots, he looked at Mo.
"In my left cheek pants pocket is my kit, I need you to grab it, and get me the hydrospanner and the torque tensioner. Hurry!"
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Meira
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Apr 27, 2013 9:35:31 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Apr 27, 2013 9:35:31 GMT -5
Now that she was in this position, Mo found herself terrified to even try to move back. What the frak had she been thinking? Dutch pushed the bike to the limit, she was sure, but he wasn't taking them away from the city. He was taking them farther in. She wanted to scream that he was crazy, that he was making things worse by taking them deeper into the snake pit, but she was too busy clinging to him for dear life.
It didn't help when they dived. She had to wrap her arms and legs around his body just to keep from falling. It didn't help when he whooped and hollered and laughed like a mad man either. And then when he took them near vertical, she practically fainted at the sight of the ground getting farther and farther away below them. Mo hated flying, and this wasn't helping.
"Whatever you do. Don't turn around."
Mo turned around.
"No. Nononononono NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she shut her eyes tight and held onto Dutch with a vice grip as he hurtled them toward their deaths. She could feel the speeders passing by as they shot through the traffic and she waited for that moment of searing hot pain and then nothing. Instead, she was coughing out more smog and beating her fists against Dutch's chest when they safely arrived on the other side.
"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!" she yelled at him as he laughed, and when his eyes glanced downward she gave him a stern slap to the face. "Hey! You-"
"It's a T617! IT'S A T617!"
"What?"
But he was giving her instructions to search for something in a pocket of his. Deciding that dying was bound to happen today no matter what she did, Mo slid herself back around Dutch until she was once again seated behind him. She locked one wrist through his clothing and her legs back around his torso to steady herself and then reached down and slid her hand into the pocket, pulling out a few things that appeared to be tools.
"This?" she shouted, holding them out over his shoulder so that he could see.
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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Apr 28, 2013 2:40:24 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Apr 28, 2013 2:40:24 GMT -5
His chest and face stung from where Mo had been striking it, laughing despite their situation. Dutch peered back at the crowd of pursuing speeders behind him and swallowed the freshly formed lump in his throat. Though when he looked back he no longer saw Mo, instead he felt her slink across his body, once more making an eyebrow quirk. She could move over his body quite... flexibly. Dutch shook his head lightly to shake away any images that could distract him just enough for him to slam into a neon sign. He juked a bit to avoid more incoming blaster fire, a couple of the bolts smacking into the metal paneling of the speeder bike. It seemed they were at a stalemate for speed, but the Sith had superior numbers and blasters pointed Dutch and Mo's way. Nothing was ever easy.
He quirked an eyebrow as Mo's legs were felt hooking around him. Dutch did his best not to seem distracted by her hand on his rear, not even realizing she would have to in order to reach his tools. The thought process was broken as he felt the tools slide from his pocket and Mo handing them to him. He peered over with a grin and nodded.
"'Bout time! Should take a holo, it'd last longer!"
Dutch said with a bump of his rear against Mo. He moved to grab the tools with his mouth, but a blaster strike to the paneling caused them to jerk and instead bit down on Mo's hand by accident. Dutch quickly released and apologized over and over. However they didn't have the time, if he didn't get them moving and fast, he wouldn't get the chance to make that bite up to her later. Instead he glanced back with a grin.
"Grab the reins!"
He bellowed before a quick snap of his teeth nabbed the tools. Without further waiting he grabbed the side of the speeder and slung himself to the left. His right hand clung to the side of the seat, an iron grip that if removed would send Dutch tumbling to the streets below. That was really the last thing he wanted at that time. His left hand manually began to pry the scant paneling off the engine, and cursed loudly as the air pressure sent it back to smack him square in the face. Dutch shook his head, grateful the hit didn't dislodge his mouth's grip on the tools. For several moments Dutch worked, occasionally replacing one tool for the other. It wasn't overly common knowledge, but the T617 model speeder was infamous and loved by backwater teenagers. Tweak the engine in the right places, and the power output could double. That came with extreme degradation of the engine, but way Dutch saw it they could sacrifice a speeder for their lives.
After several moments the modification was finished, and he spit the tools out. He couldn't even count how many he had back at Homestead's garage. Without warning Dutch pulled himself back up to slap his hands onto the handlebars.
"Hold on tight!"
Dutch cried before his hand cranked down on the throttle. With rapid clicks his boot cycled the gears. A scream of laughter came from Dutch as the speeder tore out like a mynock out of hell. Near as fast as his Windchaser could get. It lanced farther and farther away from the pursuing Sith, their shots more and more wild at the shrinking target. Dutch could only imagine the faces on those they passed, nothing more than a blur of maniacal laughter.
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Meira
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Apr 28, 2013 13:07:25 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Apr 28, 2013 13:07:25 GMT -5
Even in all the chaos, he'd managed to make her blush. Mo pressed her forehead against the man's back, wanting nothing more than to slap him for acting like this when their lives were on the line. She settled for just holding on. If they survived this, she'd give him a good kick in the teeth back at homestead.
"Aghh!" she yelped when his teeth closed on her hand. "What are you doing you stupid-" but Dutch had cut her off. She barely had time to register what he said when he all but jumped off the speeder. Mo's immediate instinct was to grab him and so her arms shot out to catch whatever she could. She managed his collar and his arm, but the whole bike lurched at the lack of control. Then she realized he was hanging on and grabbed the bikes controls, cursing him all the while.
"You stupid schutta! What the frak do you..." she dipped the bike under a skywalk between two tall buildings, "think you're doing? You're going to get us - AAAGHH!" A blaster bolt had grazed across her shoulder, searing the flesh. Mo winced and ground her teeth together against the pain. "DAMMIT DUTCH!"
As if that was what he'd been waiting to hear her say, the man swung himself back up onto the speeder and she was able to slide back again. He shouted for her to hang on and she wanted to shout something sarcastic back at him. But her arm ached and so she just wrapped her limbs around him once more, closed her eyes and pressed her face into his back. She was no more use now. She just had to trust that Dutch could get them out of this in one piece.
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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May 2, 2013 1:39:56 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on May 2, 2013 1:39:56 GMT -5
When it was clear they had left the Sith in their exhaust, Dutch shifted the speeder down and let up on the throttle. No point in going breakneck speed if they weren't at risk for the moment. Plus it'd give their minds a chance to relax from the adrenaline that had been searing through them. He glanced around at the alleys as they passed, keen to spot any Sith that may be lurking within. By then they were quite deep in the city, so deep that unless he were to fly them above the skyline, he couldn't tell which way led out. That also meant that they could blend in easier. Dutch didn't realize that Mo had been wounded, with her clung so tightly to his torso, he literally couldn't see. Instead he shook with soft laughter and turned his head so she'd hear him better.
"Well. That was fun."
Dutch said, like they had just been out for a leisurely ride. He adjusted himself to sit more comfortably, and allow Mo to wind her arms around him more. Despite it all, the blaster fire, the breakneck speeds, the near death experiences... Dutch had to admit he was enjoying his time with Mo. Too often lately it seemed the only times he saw her was either during a mission or during some sort of meeting. Between her duties with the scouts and his recovery/ return to leadership, he rarely got to see the Mirialan. He had missed her. Dutch wiggled himself a bit more to try and get even closer to Mo, but there wasn't much more space to fill. The man wanted to say something to her. What exactly he didn't know, something meaningful, something to make her smile, anything besides the dull rumble of the smog-filled wind passing by.
"You OK?"
He asked stupidly. Dutch regretted the words almost immediately. How could they be alright? The mission had gone to hell. It was likely the DLA had suffered casualties, or even worse, capture at the hands of the Sith. He shuddered at the memory of being imprisoned by them... was it really barely a year ago? It felt like the enemy had been on his planet for entirely too long. That they were as much apart of Dantooine now as the fields and seas of the planet. The thought sickened him. Dutch let go with one of his hands to tap into the DLA comm channel again, only to flinch at the squeal of static that instantly erupted. He cursed and switched it off once more. Worry gnawed at his gut, Mary had been in that crowd, and it was likely the entire stage team was either dead or worse. Dutch set his jaw and stared forward, doing his best to ignore the heat that built up behind his eyes threatening tears. Again he cursed, and inhaled shakily.
"I'm sorry." Dutch said, not necessarily at Mo. He was just grateful that she was there on the speeder with him, and not trapped in the hell hole stadium left behind them.
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Meira
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May 4, 2013 13:10:27 GMT -5
Post by Meira on May 4, 2013 13:10:27 GMT -5
It took some time for Mo to realize that they'd slowed down. In her terror, and pain, it was all she could do to simply grit her teeth and hold on. When she finally did note the lessened speed, she began to loosen her grip around Dutch. Her limbs felt sore as she uncoiled from around him, having to adjust to the sudden lack of tension. Still, she kept her face buried in his back.
"Well. That was fun."
She gave a snort of laughter, muffled by his jacket. She then turned her head to the side, keeping her cheek pressed against him. "Agree to disagree." she said. In spite of it all, she managed a weak smile.
"You OK?"
Mo glanced down at the seared flesh where the blaster bolt had grazed her arm. At least it was cauterized. "Could be worse." she mumbled, wrapping her arms back around him as he adjusted in the seat. She leaned her weight into him and sighed. When the comm shrieked again with static, Mo pulled hers out of her ear and shoved it into a pocket. It was all fubar now. She didn't want to think of exactly what that meant. Not yet. They could rage and mourn when they got back to Homestead. Right now, they needed to focus on surviving.
"I'm sorry." Dutch said, his voice sounding defeated. Mo gave him a squeeze around his abdomen in response.
"Don't be." she said. "Not for this. Not for any of it. You didn't invade Dantooine. You didn't ask for any of this, and you've lost and given more than anyone else because of it. Don't apologize for that."
She wanted to tell him more. That it would all be OK, that they would survive this and see the Sith dead or gone from Dantooine for good. But how could she say those words out loud? With all that had happened, how could they believe it? They did, she knew, to their core they believed it. But was that because it was achievable, or because the alternative was a far worse thing than mere death? Did they believe in it because they had to? And even if, by some miracle, they saw Dantooine free again, they would live the rest of their lives remembering. It would be another few generations before Dantooine was truly free of the Sith, of their memory and the scars they left on the world. She and Dutch would never see Dantooine restored. Si'bul might, but he would always remember when he had to live underground, hidden and afraid.
She closed her eyes, unable to wrap her arms any more around Dutch. Unable to hold him as close as she wished. But she tried anyway, to hold him, reassure him in the only way she could. She didn't hear the engines.
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Dutch
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May 5, 2013 10:36:12 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on May 5, 2013 10:36:12 GMT -5
His mind struggled with the dual emotions that roiled through him. On one hand, the Sith had stunned them with the ferocity of the ambush. Sure the point of the mission had been successful, let the people know that Dutch and his DLA were once again back in the fight. But they hadn't expected the fight so soon. Dutch hadn't expected the Baroness to goad him into shooting 'her'. It angered him to realize she had manipulated his emotions so easily. He hadn't avenged his poor cousin, he had shown he was willing to shoot an unarmed woman. All Dutch wanted to do was close his eyes and cry. Instead he forced them to stay open, and ignored the couple of hot tears that slid away.
Then there was Mo. When she had clung closer to him, Dutch's heart flipped. How he wished he could just pull over, turn around, and hold her in his own arms. His heart flipped again as she squeezed him gently, her words soft and kind. Again he was unable to stem back the tide in his chest, blinking away the tears again. Dutch listened to Mo, unable to respond due to the lump in his throat. He was sorry though. He realized the invasion wasn't his fault, he realized that he had no control over who the Sith killed. The more he thought on it though, the more he realized what he was sorry about. Unreasonable fear gripped his gut though. What if he said it finally, and she decided not to share how he felt? Things were insane enough in their world, would him revealing his secret to Mo change everything? Would she leave the DLA? Would she leave him? But he couldn't live in such uncertainty, it was just as painful for him to see Mo in Homestead and not just grab her and finally kiss her. He had to. He needed to. Dutch cleared his throat, and opened his mouth wordlessly. Again he felt stupid, like a fish gaping in the smog of the urban hell they were in. Buckle up Dutchie-May, ya'll could get shot down any second for all you know...
"Not what I'm sorry for Mo... I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never said anything. I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner. I'm sorry you had to watch me fall apart so often.... Mo, you're everything to me. I wouldn't be able to do this without you. Girl, I lo- FRAK!"
Dutch's heart fell as fast as the speeders from above descended. He let out a stream of especially colorful curses and slammed down on the throttle. Again the Sith screwed him, he was finally about to say what he had been dying to utter for months now when a squadron of clearly higher quality speeders swooped down. Not speeder bikes like before, these were assault models. They would be able to keep up better.
"Dammit! Don't let go!"
He twisted the handlebars to suddenly do a spinning dive followed by a turn- just in time to avoid the barrage of blaster fire. Dutch pulled up at the last second to snap them around a corner for cover. The Sith's blasters slaughtered several pedestrians on the street. Dutch's heart could barely take it, the deaths of innocents, the sickening fear, his worry and desire to protect Mo. He whipped them around another corner, and swore loudly as another squadron of the same assault speeders came barreling down to meet them. They were trapped, pincer maneuvered between the two squadrons with only one split in the buildings ahead. He had to take them that way, otherwise they would surely be captured. Dutch wasn't going to let them hurt Mo.
When it was finally time, Dutch turned them at the last second and pushed the speeder to its limits. He could feel the engine overheating under him, and knew it wouldn't take much more. His eyes looked down at the gauges to see exactly how much longer they had, but it would be far less than the readings indicated. Dutch didn't see the balconies. He didn't see the line of gatling slugthrowers. Not until it was too late. Dutch looked up again, and his eyes snapped wide as realization hit. They were about to die. He had killed them. His ears picked up the chorus as the turrets started spinning one by one until they all hummed with deadly purpose. Dutch wanted to glance back, but didn't. Couldn't. He prayed, and quickly leaned them sideways to turn the bottom of the speeder towards the turrets as they passed.
The roar was unlike anything Dutch had ever heard, the bellow of the monstrous Sith war machine. His mind almost didn't register the lead that seared and bit into him, but quickly began to feel hot splashes of blood over his bare skin. Sparks flew off their speeder as it took slug after slug, and it clearly wasn't meant to take that kind of punishment. Panic screamed even more through him as he heard the telltale, horrifying sound of the engine's reactor. Without thinking or speaking, Dutch suddenly spun around to both plant his boots on the speeder and wrap his arms around Mo. With a grunt he shoved off the speeder, just as it exploded. He screamed as the force of the blast hit his back- the flames disappated over his rancor leather jacket but it sent them tumbling. He clung desperately to Mo, wrapping himself as best he could around her to protect from the slugs, flames and shrapnel that rained down at them. Dutch didn't let go until they collided with a building, their tumble leading them to hit the glass sideways.
His last memories were smacking his head, ropes of fiery pain across his body, and the vertigo of tumbling across the floor desperately reaching for Mo who had been flung from him. Darkness descended in his mind, a darkness he never wanted to experience again. A darkness Dutch simply couldn't fight off as he passed out with a groan.
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Meira
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May 6, 2013 17:37:27 GMT -5
Post by Meira on May 6, 2013 17:37:27 GMT -5
With her eyes closed, she could almost pretend they weren't in Smog City. The engine managed to drown out most of the sounds of the city and with her face held close to his back, the rancor leather jacket held the stench of pollution at bay. It was almost too easy to slip away from the fear as her adrenalin subsided. To just wish herself, and Dutch, far away from the danger and back through the marching of time to a moment so similar to this one.
She was twelve or thirteen, all elbows and knees, but she held him almost exactly like this. It was evening then. She remembered by the way Dina seemed to set the plains on fire as they raced through the air. The Windchaser would catch that light, reflecting it impossibly bright into her eyes and she would shriek with laughter and shut them tight as the wind pulled her hair wild from her loose braid. He laughed; with her, at her, it didn't matter. Her fear only made him more daring.
It was hard for her to say now how long that first ride had lasted. When they stopped, her hair was a tangled mess and her cheeks had flushed when he tried to flatten some of it down with his gloved hand. She remembered that smell of leather as he gave her a playful, gentle punch to the cheek.
"Pretty great, isn't it?" he'd asked, admiring the Windchaser.
"Fantastic!" she had replied, her eyes never leaving him. He was tall, at least to her, and strong. He seemed like something out of a story the way the light shone around him. She remembered the pain in her chest. She couldn't name it then, but by now, Mo was well familiar with that blissful ache. All he had to do was smile and it would swell inside of her until she had to laugh for fear of her ribs breaking open.
Mo hated that memory. No matter how wonderful, how euphoric that first ride on the Windchaser felt. The part that followed was equally devastating. That was the first time she'd ever said it.
"I love you Dutch!"
His smile didn't falter. He didn't miss a beat. Dutch threw his arm around a poor, naive Mirialan girl and replied "Love you too, little sister."
Oh how that had devastated her. She had felt so full of love and happiness, and with two words, he had pulled it all out, leaving a gaping nothingness behind. Mo never told anyone about it. She held that all in until those lonely hours of the night when she could release it into her pillow.
"Not what I'm sorry for Mo..."
His words opened her eyes but the pain of that memory lingered. How many times had she tried to cut it out of her mind, of her heart? But she couldn't. A body couldn't live with only half a heart. Each word he spoke threatened to break her. She wanted to clamp her hand over his mouth. She couldn't hear him say it, not again.
"Mo, you're everything to me.
Stop. she mouthed silently, unable to form the word. Her vision was blurred by her tears. Not again. She wouldn't be able to bear it. She couldn't be his sister.
"Girl, I lo- FRAK!"
The smog, the fear, the adrenalin; it all hit her at once and Mo nearly fell from the speeder bike as the engine roared. For a moment, she was suspended, weightless, and her every fiber burned as her body waited for her heart to beat. Her ears filled with the sound of the speeder, deafening. And then her heart beat, blood flowed and she closed her arms around Dutch again as they took off. Once again her world was nothing more than a blur and white noise. She held tight, both her arms and her eyes as they moved.
The speeder banked and then all of the sudden, Dutch turned around. Mo's eyes opened wide, connecting with his. There was fear there, a fear she'd never seen in him. His arms wrapped around her and again, for a moment, she was weightless. Her hair whipped around them and her mouth hung open in fright, or wonder, or both. When the speeder bike exploded, for a moment, the light shone around Dutch like it had that evening so many years ago.
But then his hand clasped around the back of her head, tucking it into his shoulder as they fell. There was a crash, and then they landed. Mo remembered an impossibly loud snap, his eyes, and then nothing.
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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May 6, 2013 23:45:04 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on May 6, 2013 23:45:04 GMT -5
Dutch came to with a start. Instantly pain wracked his very existence, a loud, long gasp sounding from deep in his chest. His gray eyes bulged from his skull as he tried to roll from his stomach onto his side. Immediately he regretted that as his arm moved an unnatural direction and webs of pain ignited along his nerves. Unable to scream from the shock, Dutch instantly flung himself back onto his front panting. His head was impossibly heavy feeling and throbbed so painfully, each pulse of it made his eyes close tighter and tighter. The rest of his body felt just about as good, every joint ached and his clothes felt strangely wet against his skin. Dutch took several deep, shaking breaths to steady himself before rolling to his right side. This arm clearly wasn't injured as badly. Now propped on one elbow, his left arm lay limply against his side. He knew this feeling, it wasn't the first time he had dislocated that arm. Dutch uttered several curses between gritted teeth, his eyes now frantically looking around.
They had crashed into a building, what might have once been an apartment complex by the look of it. There were still plenty of pieces of furniture scattered about, but the apartment had been torn apart by the crash. Pieces of the speeder lay in smoking, flaming heaps about the place, mixed with shattered bits of window and wooden fixtures. Dutch couldn't see Mo anywhere. His heart instantly shattered at that, but when he tried to call her name all that came out was a low cry of pain. Anytime he tried to push himself- even if it was just verbally- his body shook in argument. He needed to take care of that arm, but without anyone to help steady him or medicate him, it wasn't going to be pretty. Dutch slowly pushed himself to a sitting position with an agonized groan, his good arm clutched onto the bad to keep it from flopping horridly. Alright Dutch... this is gonna suck... a lot...
That was an understatement.
Once he felt things line up, he counted in his head before suddenly shifting the joint and slamming himself down sideways. The audible popping of the joint clicking into place was instantly drowned out by the long, agonizing scream that was ripped from his chest. He didn't even try to fight the hot tears of pain that pooled down his face, instead Dutch let himself lay there clutching his arm as the white hot pain slowly dulled down to a steady throb. He had to find Mo, he had to get them out of there. The Sith would be arriving soon to either recover bodies or create bodies to recover. Between the crash and his screaming he was certain they wouldn't be too far. Luckily for them they had fallen into an apartment building. They could find somewhere to hole up until a plan could be made. First he had to find Mo though.
Slowly Dutch worked his way onto his feet. His head swam instantly and he could hear the sound of liquid splashing onto the floor. A hand shot out to an upturned sofa to steady himself, the neon light from outside revealing the state of his body. His clothes were darkened deep red, clearly blood. Both his pants and his shirt had been torn up, his left pant leg near gone from the knee down and his shirt more or less in ribbons. Gaping red mouths laced his torso where visible, and every motion made by him made the blood ooze out more. Dammit... dammit... It seemed his jacket had protected the rest of his body, but those cuts would need to be sealed as soon as possible. That was second to finding Mo. His breath shaking, Dutch called out her name. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer. He moved away from the window, each step steadier than before as Dutch searched. Finally he saw a single, slim green hand poking out from under an upturned table.
"NO!"
Growled Dutch as he instantly stumbled over to her. He knelt low to grab the edge of it, and with a mixture of effort and pain he growled as it was lifted. Dutch flung the table clear away from them both and fell to his knees. Shaking, he reached down to gently pull Mo into his arms. She was so cold to the touch, and clearly worse off than he was. Like him her clothing had been near shredded, and her leg hung at a sickening angle. Not to mention her normally green skin was muddled by the amount of blood from the multitude of cuts across it. Pieces of glass still jutted from her flesh, and he couldn't tell if she was breathing.
"No... no... C'mon baby, c'mon Mo. Wake up... Don't do this to me, don't leave me... Mo... Mohana! DAMMIT!"
Dutch near pleaded as renewed tears fell, not even trying to stop them as they fell onto Mo. He pulled her tenderly to his body, his torso beginning to shake as his head pressed up against hers. It wasn't supposed to end like this, they were supposed to stop the Sith. They were supposed to go back to the estate, rebuild it, and start a family together. They were supposed to have nightly sprawling feasts again, song and dance under the stars. Al was supposed to be there with Kabira, and the rest of the DLA survivors too. It was supposed to be a happy ending.
"Not like this... not like this..."
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Meira
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May 8, 2013 18:21:49 GMT -5
Post by Meira on May 8, 2013 18:21:49 GMT -5
There was nothing around her. Not blackness, not space. Nothing. Even her own sense of self was vague at best in this place. She did not feel, see or hear. She simply was. At first, it was a blissful sensation, a reprieve. How long had she lived in a state of perpetual sensation? Fear, exhaustion, hunger. She did not miss these things. Even the thrills of excitement and joy were not missed. In the absence of the negative sensations, the positive ones lost their meaning. She knew this, though her memories of these sensations were like wisps of some all but forgotten dream. Here, she had true peace.
But there was something... something in the haze of that strange dream that she was forgetting. She had not always been in this place. But where was it that she had been? Who had she been? It was important, whatever it was. She was supposed to remember.
It was hard to focus. The emptiness made it so easy for her thoughts to wander.Screams, and pain. Heat. What was the word? Fire. And a body. Not just a consciousness, free and unhindered, a physical body that was hers. And there were other bodies. They were separate. How odd... They had voices. They whispered and cried out.
Mo!
What was that? It was so familiar but she couldn't place it. It brought with it such and urgency. It brought tastes and smells and pain. Such pain. Again and again, Mo! Not a what... who?
Wake up!
There was sound. A crackling and hiss, a pop. There was the smell of smoke and fuel. There was a taste, like copper. There was his voice. "Not like this... not like this..." She opened her eyes, but everything was spinning, or she was spinning, or both. She coughed and that copper taste grew stronger as something warm pooled in her mouth. She coughed again and felt it run over her chin. The spinning slowed and he came into focus, somewhat. Dutch. She tried to lift her hand to his face but couldn't tell which one it was. Her hand fell back down, landing on her stomach.
There was pain. Her eyes flew wide as she coughed again, her body going rigid as her whole being seemed to succumb to the white hot sting that seized her from head to toe. She reached for him again, this time catching hold of his arm as she grunted and convulsed. Her eyes filled instantly. She couldn't see him anymore and so she clung to him for fear of slipping away. Her lips parted and closed, but still all the sounds she made came out as wheezes and gargled moans. Even worse than the pain was the fear. Fear of that emptiness he'd saved her from.
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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May 8, 2013 23:58:53 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on May 8, 2013 23:58:53 GMT -5
Dutch cried, his breath in gasps as he clung to Mo's chilled body. She wasn't waking up, she wasn't moving. His body shook and his fingers gathered her clothing tight in his grip as Dutch held her against him. The worst had happened. He wasn't able to protect her. Just like he wasn't able to protect his mother. Or his father. Or any of the other DLA who had lost their lives to the war. It had always been Dutch, Mo and Al. If he made it back alive to Homestead, how could he possibly tell his little brother that he had gotten their Mo killed? How could Dutch even think go on without her at his side, as she had always been? The tightness in his chest was overwhelming, the only noise he was able to make now a high, pained groan. Just when he didn't think he could take it anymore, he felt her stir, then cough.
His eyes flew wide and he shifted himself to look down at Mo. Just in time to see her feebly reach for him. Her hand would land on her body before one of his slid under it to grasp. Still cradling her in one arm, he squeezed her hand gently- it felt so small and cold in his. Dutch smiled in relief, tears still falling despite the bubble of hope that swelled within him. But it was clear that she was in a bad state, one more squeeze to her hand released it. He shifted to hold her better, his free hand moving over to check her wounds. She felt so small and broken to Dutch, a new chilled fear seeping into his joy at her still living. Mo grabbed his arm, and he nodded.
"I know, hold on babe." Dutch started before he began to look around frantically. A door frame that could lead to a fresher visible. He prayed there was a first aid kit within. "I'm going to set you down now, don't move. I gotta find something to help take the pain away. Don't move, I'll be back before you know it."
Dutch gently lay Mo down, careful to not bend or move anything as possible. Once she was settled, he quickly shrugged off his jacket. It was damp on the inside from his blood, but would provide some warmth to aid with Mo's shock. He lay it over her upper body, softly tucking it under her chin to help bottle in more warmth. His eyes found hers, heart breaking as he saw the amount of blood over her. Without pausing Dutch pulled his shirt off, groaning at the feeling of his wounds stretching, a fresh flood of blood pouring forth. He felt woozy, nauseous from the amount he had lost. But Mo needed him, he could be distracted. Dutch bundled the shirt and brought it up to gently clean away most of the blood from Mo's face. It couldn't be comfortable to feel that drying on the skin, not if he himself wasn't enjoying it. Once she was cleaned up, he tossed the trashed article away into the darkness. He would wink at her, and stumbled to his feet.
He fumbled through the dim lighting straight for the door frame he had noted. As Dutch slipped in his hand slapped wetly against the wall until a light panel was found. Pale blue light flickered on above a mirror. Dutch balked for a moment as he was revealed. The area where his hand had been searching for a light had left ghastly smears of red. Dutch himself looked near coated, what skin that wasn't stained red was horrendously pale from the lack of blood. The red mouths of wounds all over his body made him shudder. He looked like the walking dead. His head began to swim, and Dutch gasped as his hands shot out to grab the edges of the sink. Eyes wide and panic setting in, he stood there panting for air. Again he began to look around, desperate for anything that could help.
Then he saw it, a red box with a white cross on it. An aid kit. Dutch stumbled over to the wall where it clung and ripped it off the hinges, kissing the plastic box before tearing it open. Stims, painkillers, even stitching material. Dutch could cry he was so happy. Without another moment he drew one of the stims, his teeth bit the cap to remove it. The needle was plunged into his bare arm, and the drugs kicked in almost instantly. Dutch considered the painkiller, but decided that Mo would need those more. The second wind given by the stim again raised his hopes. They were going to be just fine. Even if he felt it was a lie still, they were going to be just fine. Less than a minute later, and Dutch had made his way back to Mo. He fell to his knees and reached out to cup her chin in his hand.
"I got you, we're gonna make it."
Dutch nodded, his eyes intense before he released her. As quickly as he could manage he had uncapped and lined up a few of the painkillers and a couple of the stims. As gently as Dutch could he slid his hand under the jacket to pull Mo's thin arm out. One by one he plunged the drugs into her skin, making sure they were in a vein before flooding them. Once all the chemicals were pumped into the Mirialan, he gathered the syringes before tossing them well away from the two. Didn't want to accidentally step on them or anything. Dutch turned back to Mo, his hand now moving forward to rest on the side of her head.
"Wait a minute for those to kick in, once you're ready we gotta move though babe. They'll come looking for us soon, and we gotta hole up somewhere safe."
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Meira
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last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
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May 10, 2013 16:38:33 GMT -5
Post by Meira on May 10, 2013 16:38:33 GMT -5
"No!" she pleaded, holding onto his arm tighter as he moved to lay her back down. Her eyes were wide with fear. If he left her, she wouldn't be able to hold on. She'd go back there. She couldn't go back. That peace was a lie. This is what mattered. Here and now. He mattered.
"Don't go..." she begged, but he released his hold on her and then laid his jacket over her. How could it be so heavy? She'd held it before, even washed it. She couldn't ever remember it feeling so heavy. It weighed her arms down, stopping her from reaching out for him as he used his shirt to wipe the blood from her face. She must have looked like hell if he was being so tender.
"Don't leave me!" she said, her voice a squeaky whisper as he stumbled away. Mo tried to push herself around on the floor, but when she moved her leg, a shock of pain ran up it, causing her to cry out in a hoarse scream. It took so much effort just to lift her head, and when she did, she nearly passed out at the sight. Her left leg jutted out to the side half way down her calf. There was a dark red stain at the break. As if that wasn't enough, Mo could also see light from the fire glinting off a shard of glass sticking out of her abdomen. Blood was not actively seeping from the wound, but Mo wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
"Dutch!" she cried. She could feel the room spinning again, growing darker. But he was suddenly there again, at her side. He took her chin in his hand and spoke. She nodded back to him, reassured, and gave him her arm. She watched as he injected each one, slightly surprised that she barely felt the bite of the needles as they were plunged into her skin.
Mercifully, the meds acted quickly and the pain began to subside. She was still in agony, but compared to moments ago, she was thankful. She moved to sit up, but Dutch warned her to wait a minute. She did feel dizzy. So she waited, but they couldn't wait forever.
"Help me up." she said a moment later, reaching out feebly for his hand. He was right. They had to move. Better to grit her teeth and bear it now than die and it all be for nothing.
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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May 24, 2013 1:17:32 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on May 24, 2013 1:17:32 GMT -5
"Help me up."
Dutch grinned and his thumb gently stroked Mo's cheek. Her voice already sounded so much stronger than it had moments ago. The stims were gonna save them, he could tell. His hand would pat her cheek gently before it moved down to wrap around the one she held to him. It was slick and sticky from blood, but he assumed his probably felt similar. Dutch gave her hand a quick squeeze before his free hand reached up to pull his jacket away from Mo. No reason for it to weigh her down after the shock had begun to subside. He set it next to where he knelt. "One...two...three..." On three he pulled gently, his other hand moved to her shoulder to help Mo sit up further as well as steady the Mirialan.
"Easy.."
Once it was clear that Mo was steady, he squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. Dutch gathered his jacket up to move it around Mo's shoulders, wincing as the twisting of his torso stretched some of the cuts. He did his best to stifle the growl of pain that rose from his chest. Last thing he wanted to do at that moment was worry Mo. Dutch tried to pass off the growl as a clearing of his throat, expression sheepishly avoiding Mo's gaze. Before she could say anything about it Dutch shifted his weight, arms moving around her form. One arm hooked under the crook of her knees while the other hugged her against his chest, hand rested at her side. He repeated the countdown- this time silently to himself before standing. Dutch did his best to keep himself steady. The stims helped for certain, but his head still swam momentarily.
"Alright. We got this."
Dutch said- mostly to himself. He turned away from the wreckage, digging deep to move forwards. Mo was light in his arms, but heavier than he remembered. It was the loss of blood coupled with exhaustion he was certain, but Dutch knew that stopping was not an option. She needed him, possibly more than ever before. And he was sure as hell going to be there for her. He hadn't for far too long, and Dutch would be damned if he wouldn't for the first time she needed him since the coma. Unconsciously he hugged Mo closer to his body, his grip firm but still gentle as to not worsen any of her wounds. Dutch marched straight to the closed door, his head turned to peer one last time back at the flames and wreckage behind him. He was sure there was some poetic metaphor somewhere, but Dutch wasn't exactly known for his deep philosophical thoughts. Instead he turned away to raise one of his booted feet to punt the door in front of them open. That was more his pace.
The hall smelled of must and smoke from the wreck. Dutch paused a moment to look left then right. Once sure they were clear he turned to follow the hall to a dimly lit sign signifying a stairwell. His plan was pretty simple. Get to a different floor, find a safe looking room, bar the door, and start to administer first aid. Except he didn't know much first aid. In the past year he learned everything he knew, which was basic at best. The door to the stairwell got the same treatment as the previous door, the metal bar clanged loudly against it. The stairs were by far the most difficult thing to conquer so far, but a few flights later he was satisfied with the distance. His body now shone in the dim emergency lighting from the mix of sweat and blood over his paled skin.
Moments later he had found a room that looked suitable, around the corner of the hall they had entered with no windows. Another apartment, but this one much smaller. Again the door to it was booted open and Dutch took them into it as swiftly as he could, his foot pushing it closed behind them. It was pitch black in there, but as he ran his back against the adjacent wall he felt the nub of a switch. With a little push he was able to flick the light on, a single bulb that hung from the ceiling by its power cord. The light revealed the bloodstain Dutch's back had left, as well as a completely empty studio apartment.
"...Charming."
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Meira
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May 28, 2013 14:03:15 GMT -5
Post by Meira on May 28, 2013 14:03:15 GMT -5
Slowly, he helped her sit up, but it was a good thing he stopped her there. The room lurched around her and she gripped tighter to his hand until the spinning stopped once again. If she didn't pull it together, they'd be found. She needed to toughen up, and quick. She focused on her breathing as he draped the jacket over her shoulders. She could do this. She had to.
Mo winced and sucked in air against a cry of pain as Dutch lifted her from the ground. Her leg felt as if it were on fire, and the glass in her side threatened to turn her stomach inside out. She kept her eyes on him, refusing to close them for fear of losing consciousness. He hid it better than she did, but Mo could still tell Dutch was in a lot of pain.
"We got this." she echoed him weakly, wrapping her hand around his neck and leaning her head against his shoulder. "We got this." It was barely a whisper the second time.
He kicked the door open and Mo's eyes widened as she was pulled from the brink of unconsciousness. Stay awake, she implored herself. But her eyelids felt so heavy. She bit her teeth down on the inside of her cheek. The pain helped, but it was a drop in the ocean of what she felt from her other wounds. Stay awake.
Again and again, Dutch kicked a door and Mo was startled awake. She fought the fatigue, the heaviness, but it more and more difficult each time. By the time they'd arrived in the small apartment, she was sure she would lose the battle.
The light flickered on and for the first time, a blurry Dutch was seen more clearly. Soot and blood covered his face. His bare shoulders and chest the same, along with a mixture of scratches and burns. Touched the tips of her fingers to an area of unmarred skin. "You're hurt." she said. Stupid. Of course he was hurt. "Put me down. I can help you." Even as she said the words, she knew she'd be little help. But she had to do something. She wasn't going to let him go again. She thought seeing him in that coma was hard. If she lost him, truly lost him... Mo was fairly certain she wouldn't have it in her to continue fighting. If he died... so would she. Even if she somehow survived this, she would be dead. Tears began to fall anew from her eyes, leaving trails through the soot on his chest where they fell.
"Please." she breathed, almost unable to speak through the lump in her throat. "I can fix you..."
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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May 29, 2013 15:25:52 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on May 29, 2013 15:25:52 GMT -5
This post, and the one to follow, are co-written by Dutch and Meira, an epic endeavor that has brought us many feels, and we hope it does the same for you. Enjoy. ----------------------------------------- "You're hurt." “You think?” "Put me down. I can help you.”“You ain’t helping anyone like this babe...” "Please...I can fix you..."“I gotta fix you first, hold on.” Dutch looked around, eyes searched for what would look to be the best place. The light hung closest to the kitchenette, bathing the small square of tiles there in its light. He moved towards it, careful to keep himself steady. Last thing he wanted to do was unceremoniously drop Mo and cause her more harm. Upon arrival he collapsed, the tile cool through the rip in his pants. Dutch did his best to make it seem fluid and not like he fell from exhaustion. Though that was surely the case. Gotta stay focused, gotta get her right... She was wincing again, her eyes squeezed tight against the pain. His heart ached to see her like this, if they made it through the night, he was going to make sure he never had to see her so again. His eyes found the pane of glass that was jutting from her stomach. It rose a couple inches out, but didn't appear too deep. However it was wider than Dutch would like to see. Point was, it had to go. “Now don’t freak out...” he said, as his hand moved to grasp the piece of glass. Mo’s eyes widened and her hand shot out, striking against his. “You don’t know what you’re doing!” she said through gritted teeth. “...And?” He replied, a coy grin sliding across his face despite the situation. That same hand suddenly grabbed him by the chin. “And I don’t want you making it worse!” She released his chin and gestured toward the med kit he’d brought with them. “Get some gauze. I’ll walk you through it.” Mo laid herself back onto the floor, holding her breath as she lifted her bloodstained shirt away from the wound. “You got it.” Dutch said as he reached over to the small kit, his one hand not leaving her body. With the kit flipped open he peered into it. There was... a lot of stuff in it, considering the size of the container. His hand flipped a few objects that he didn't know what their purpose was out until he saw the little packet clearly labeled ‘gauze’. “I don’t suppose this thing has a ‘surgery for complete morons’ guide?” He chortled at his own lame joke, and shifted closer to Mo. “That’s what I’m for.” she panted back at him, a weak smile spreading across her face. “Better to look at too.” He replied with a wink. “Focus, big papa... you’re gonna need the thread and needle too.” He hesitated and she smacked her hand against his arm. “I said focus.” Dutch nodded at her instruction, luckily he had pulled the kit over with him. Again his hand delved into it, finding a case filled with needles, as well as a spool of surgical thread. Part of him couldn't believe this was happening. If someone had asked him years ago if he’d one day be performing emergency surgery on Mo, he’d have laughed. “Where the frak is Nom when we actually need him...” He growled through gritted teeth. “Give me another stim.” she said, holding out her hand. When it was provided, she pulled the protective cap off with her teeth and spit it across the room. “I’ll thread the needle and tie it. You pull out the glass.” She stabbed the stim into her thigh, wincing for a second and then visibly relaxing as the medicine took effect. Taking the needle and thread, she laid her head back onto the ground. It took all her concentration to get the thread through the eye of the needle, but once it was done, she tied it off quickly. He was grateful he had refused a couple of the stims for himself, clearly Mo needed them more than he did at the moment. As she lay back to prep the thread and needle, he peered down at the wound itself. The shirt was going to be a problem if he were to focus on stitching her. Without asking permission he bent low with the bottom of the shirt in both hands, his teeth finding the edge of it. The blood soaked cloth was salty to the taste, but he ignored it as he jerked his head in unison with his arms to tear it enough to expose her abdomen. Setting the pieces aside, he tore open the gauze packet before one hand gripped the bit of glass. He had to be careful, one wrong move and the glass could shatter and cause more damage to Mo. Dutch made eye contact with Mo, a nod of reassurance given. “On three. One.. two...” He began, but pulled the glass out early with a steady hand. “Ugghh!” Mo grunted through her teeth, eyes glaring death threats back at Dutch. Quickly Dutch pushed the gauze over the wound, applying pressure to stem any bleeding. His other hand took some more of the gauze to begin to wipe and soak up the blood around the area. The skin around where the glass had been was a deep plum in color, not the pleasant green Dutch was used to seeing. He tried to not let the concern show on his face as he tossed away the soaked gauze. His now free hand reached forward to take the thread and needle from Mo, his hand wrapping around hers a moment to give a squeeze. ”It doesn't have to be pretty.” she said, looking away while he readied the needle. “Just make sure it holds.” Mo closed her eyes and pulled the sleeve of Dutch’s jacket close, biting down hard on the leather. He nodded and held the needle between his fingers. For a moment he just stared, fighting the anxiety that began to build. But there was no time for stalling, Mo needed to be patched up right away. The needle sunk into her flesh with little resistance. It was almost sickening how smooth the motion was. He pulled it through each side of the wound until the knot at the end pulled the skin tight together. The process was repeated, over and over, until the gash was slowly closed tight. When he stopped, Mo lifted her head to examine his work. He seemed to have taken her words to heart. It certainly wasn't pretty. Quickly, she took the needle from Dutch and tied off the stitches. She removed the needle and pulled herself up on Dutch’s arm until she was sitting. With his help, gauze was wrapped around her stomach to cover the wound. There was little more they could do for it now. The two sat in silence for a few moments, avoiding the obvious next step. Finally, unable to take it any longer, Mo spoke. “You’re gonna have to set it.” “It’s gonna hurt.” “You think?” The smile she gave was a brave one, but still defeated. “Just get it over with.” “...Uh... I think the pants gotta go to set it right.” Mo eyed her leg. Joke or not, Dutch was right. The blood that pooled around the break had soaked through the fabric, causing it to stick to her skin. She nodded her head, taking in a series of deep breaths as Dutch re-positioned himself. She latched her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck. His hands found her belt buckle, and undid it carefully to not aggravate any of her wounds. Next came the fly before he hooked his hands around the edge of the waist and tugged gently. The fabric moved over her hips easily enough, but as it bunched around her legs, it pulled against the blood soaked part, bringing tears to Mo’s eyes. She whimpered, and he shushed her gently. He paused for a moment to bring his hands down, each boot of Mo’s being quickly unlaced and tossed aside. “AGH!” she cried as he pulled the boot off her broken leg. Her nails dug deep into the skin of his shoulders and back, and before she could think, she clamped her teeth down as well. Anything to distract from the pain. His jaw clenched at the sudden pain, but he kept himself focused on getting her ready to set the leg. “Are you ready?” he asked. Mo shook her head. He didn't bother counting this time. The sound was sickening as muscle and bone scraped and tore, but worse than that was her scream. It came from a place of such agony that her voice broke, the sharp wail degrading into raspy gasps as her good leg kicked and spasmed and her arms clamped tight around the only thing that held her to this world. Her whole body heaved as she struggled to keep her vision from spinning out of control. “Hey hey hey, stay with me dammit.” Dutch’s voice was firm, but still tinged with slight panic. He had to keep her rooted. He had to keep her with him. He had to keep her awake. It was then that he knew what he needed to do. “Wasn't supposed to be like this... frak it.” One of his hands slid around the back of her head to cradle it before he pressed his forehead against hers. “Listen.” He shook her head until her eyes focused on his. “Remember what I said before?” “Before?” Her voice was so weak. “About being sorry for not being there?” Her eyes seemed to drift and he shook her head again. “Remember?!” “You don’t...” “I do. But I’m here now babe, and that ain't changing. Want to know what brought me back? What woke me up?” Her eyes were closing. He shook her again. “Dammit Mo it was you. It was always you.” Without warning he leaned closer to press his lips gently against hers. She was so dizzy, it was hard to keep him in focus. His voice faded in and out of her mind, but his lips sent a spark through her that shot her eyes open wide. At first she felt frozen, but she could never stop the way she simply melted in his arms. Her hands found the sides of his face and clung there, as if he held her to the earth. “That’s right. Think about that, I gotta finish your leg.” Dutch winked at her and helped to ease her back onto the tile. He turned back to the kit to flip a few more things out of it until he found a case labeled ‘splint’. It was opened to reveal a couple collapsible metal rods, which made Dutch sigh in relief. They were set next to Mo then he quickly grabbed her discarded pants to pull the belt out from them. Once retrieved he undid his own belt and pulled it free. In a matter of moments he had the splint set, and the belts tied at the top and bottom. “How you feelin’ Green?”
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Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
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last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
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Jun 3, 2013 18:33:53 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Jun 3, 2013 18:33:53 GMT -5
“How you feelin’ Green?”
“Like I was just blown up... you?” She lifted her head slightly as he finished tying off the splint.
“Uh... a bit woozy, bit jittery. Y’know, love confessions and all.” Dutch responded, still not quite able to look at her yet. She watched the way his eyes avoided hers, glancing every where else that they could. He wasn’t lying about the woozy part, she could tell that much. In fact, just at that moment, Dutch began to lean heavily to the side. Mo winced, but sat herself up and placed her hands on his shoulders to steady him.
“And you thought you were the only one that had this effect on people.” she smiled. “Now let me take care of these.” she gestured toward Dutch’s abdomen and the many cuts there. Dutch nodded meekly in agreement as Mo put a gentle pressure to his arms, encouraging him to lean back against the cabinets behind him. His back thudded against them, and Dutch rested his head against the cheap wood.
It was difficult to reposition herself so that she could better evaluate his wounds. With her left leg immobilized, it was all she could do to scoot herself around him as slowly as possible so as not to jostle it. Finally, she was able to gaze over his torso, her fingers lightly touching around the wounds. It seemed his bleeding had slowed somewhat, but Mo wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“Some of these are going to need stitching.” she said, reaching over toward the kit to retrieve the needle and thread. There was no way to clean the needle, so Mo simply wiped off her blood as best as she could. They’d need some heavy rounds of antibiotics when they got back to Homestead, that was for sure. And they would get back, she promised herself. They had to.
Dutch suddenly coughed violently, growling after as the spasms irritated his cuts. He placed a hand over his abs and pulled it away to look at the blood that now coated it.
“Might wanna speed it up babe.”
“Shut up.” Mo responded, her teeth clamped on the needle as she tied off the thread. She turned and rummaged through the kit again, but it was pointedly lacking what she was looking for.
“Where are the stims?” she asked, her eyes glancing up toward Dutch. He didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes told her what she needed to know. She chewed at the inside of her cheek to prevent her lip from quivering. She didn’t know if she could do this to him. Not like this.
His non-bloodied hand reached out to grab her upper arm. He squeezed gently and smiled.
“You needed ‘em. I can handle this. Just do what you gotta do, so we can get back home and celebrate that we made it.” Dutch winked sleepily. He could feel himself wanting to just close his eyes and rest.
Tears welled in her eyes, but his words brought a welcome chuckle as she wiped them away and nodded. Taking a deep breath, Mo did her best to steady her hands. The first was the hardest. She hesitated, making it harder for the needle to sink in. Dutch’s jaw clenched visibly and he fought the urge to growl at the pain. Mo immediately dropped the needle once she had it through, her hands flying to hold the sides of his face.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I can’t do it...” she repeated, her hands grazing gently along his cheeks. She tried to lean in, but the dead weight of her leg only allowed her to get so close. Dutch moved in the rest of the way, wincing at the pain in his abdomen. Her lips touched against his cheekbones, his forehead. “I’m sorry.” she continued to whimper. Dutch laughed and reached up with his other hand to pat the side of her head, forgetting about the drying blood on it.
“You will be later once I’m through with you. But c’mon now. You’ve done this before-”
“Not on someone who’s awake!” she interrupted. “Not on you!”
“And who the frak am I? Just gotta knuckle down and get it done, right?”
Mo sighed, leaning her forehead against his as she took a few breaths. He was right. She just had to grit her teeth and get through it. Picking up the needle, she started again. This time, it went through easier and she soon found a rhythm.
“There you go, you got this.” Dutch said through gritted teeth.
In a few moments, she had the first wound closed up. Her whole body seemed to relax after that as she readied and moved on to the next one. She glanced up, noticing how Dutch’s head seemed to nod.
“Hey!” she said, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. “You taking notes?” she pointed at the stitching. “This is how it’s done, big boy.” Dutch chuckled at that and nodded weakly. Mo smiled back at him, tying off the second set of stitches.
Suddenly, from below, the muffled sounds of heavy footfalls and voices could be heard. Mo’s eyes shot back up to Dutch’s, and for a moment, the two sat frozen in a shared sense of dread. Her hands began to shake, but again, Dutch steadied her, this time by placing his own hands over hers. It felt like ages, but Mo finally continued, a new sense of urgency in her movements.
With every second, the sounds of certain death crept closer and closer. Voices became clearer as they shouted out orders, Stomping boots filled their ears and doors crashing sent shocks of fear through their hearts. The last wound Mo closed up wasn’t much better than Dutch’s own work on her, but it would hold... she hoped.
“Not so easy when the pressure’s on eh?” Dutch chuckled and peered down at her work. It certainly looked better than the freely bleeding gashes there before. He smiled at her and patted her cheek gently. “Atta girl.”
“Shhh!” Mo scolded as she scrambled to his side. From the floor, she grabbed his pistol as she turned herself to face toward the door, her back against the cabinets beside Dutch. Her arms shook at the unfamiliar weight of the weapon in her hands. How she wished she had her bow, if for nothing else than the familiarity. Dutch himself had flipped off the strap that held his shotgun in place, and pulled the weapon out to rest on his lap, barrel pointed away from Mo. He rolled his head to look at her with a defiant smile.
“Don’t envy the bastard who comes in here first.”
“They’re gonna see the light!” Mo said, her eyes glancing upward at the bulb. She’d known fear before, and thought it had waned as their time fighting against the Sith gave her courage. But the helplessness she felt now seemed to suck out any hint of bravery she might have had. It was all gone, and the only thing left was a bone chilling terror.
“Well frak me.” Dutch growled. He eyed the lightbulb and had half a mind to just blast it with his weapon. But that would be a dumb thing to do. Instead he swore again and used the barrel of his shotgun to help himself to his feet. Dutch took a step forward only to have what little blood he had left rush to his head. Another curse lead to Dutch collapsing to one knee a moment, a hand on the side of his head.
“Dutch!” Mo cried, her voice starting out loud, then quickly quieting as she realized the danger. She tried to crawl toward him but Dutch shot her a severe look. No words were needed for him to tell her to stay put. He stumbled back to his feet and over to the bulb and smacked it with the butt of his shotgun. It sparked before bathing them in total darkness.
“And... now I can’t see.”
“Neither can they.” Mo growled at him through the dark. He turned towards the sound of her voice, but the sudden loss of light had completely thrown off his sense of where she’d been.
“Do that again.” Dutch said in a hushed tone.
“Do what?”
“Say something, anything.”
“Turn around, dumbass.”
“Who can ignore the siren’s call, eh?” Dutch laughed. He still couldn’t quite find where she was. “Again.”
“Seriously? You took like two steps...”
“Don’t judge me.”
“Be quiet!”
“One more time...”
“That’s what she said...”
Dutch had found her, he collapsed right next to Mo. He wasn’t as silent as he had planned. “You mean that’s what you’re gonna say.” Mo tried to slap him, but missed, her hand colliding against the wood of the cabinet. Dutch snickered before he moved his arm up and around Mo’s shoulders to pull her against him. Mo settled into his side, but a sudden crash not far from them gave her a start. Dutch began to pet her hair gently, trying to calm her. They were on their floor now, it seemed.
“What do we do?” she whispered.
“I can think of a thing or two.”
Mo jabbed an elbow into his side. “Rev it down, Dutch.”
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