A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 15

He stretched his toes out as the man pushed harder into his chest, searching for something, anything, he could use. Nothing.

One of his arms was pressed to his side, his other was free, but the men just laughed as he strained, knocking over a wheely-table, the tray of implements falling to the ground. And then, his fingers found something.

A button.

He shot back into the Mirty tunnel as it whirred to life. Clank -- the man's scalpel smacked into the magnetic side, and for a moment Nate was safe within the blackness of the tunnel. And then the button was smacked and he shot back out again.

This time, he was ready. He pulled the scalpel from the magnetic wall and thrust it into the hand that reached for him.

Blood streamed out. The hand flew back and took his scalpel with it.

Fuck.

Gun! Isabelle cried.

To his right, the Lunari pulled a handgun. But the Lunari was too close, within reach. Nate darted for the gun, still lying on his bed. The Lunari fired, but too late.

He jabbed his fingers into the mag-release button.

Get fucked. It dropped to the ground, buying him time.

The Lunari had distracted him though, his senses distorted from the screaming and the blood and growls. The third man smashed his fists down onto his chest, onto his healing ribs, crunching them open.

The man pulled him up with an almighty roar and threw him down onto the cold ground.

"The fucking cunt sliced my hand!" cried one of them, holding his streaming hand, the scalpel still embedded clean through.

"Shut the fuck up!" The Lunari growled as he picked up his magazine. "It's over."

Nate didn't have time to think. He dove through the window into the doctor's office, crashing through it as the bang-bang-bang of the gun deafened him. The glass splintered into a thousand pieces, all along the long office.

His arm shined at him, distracting him -- it was embedded with rosy red glass shards.

Problem for later. Isabelle reminded him. Check the desk, the drawers.

The desk had papers and a stapler.

"Become a Judge, they sa--" Another round smashed above him as he crawled on the floor.

"Just get in there and shoot him, stop fucking around!" One of them yelled at the Lunari.

These guys are idiots, you can't die to idiots. Isabelle told him.

"Some of my best men are idiots." Nate muttered. The drawers had more papers. Receipts. Pens. He scuttled along on his hands and knees, naked as the day he was born. He was cold and wet with blood and tired and pissed off.

"So sick of people shooting at me. Stupid fucking bugs, stupid Jarek, stupid, oh hello, what's this?" Nate exclaimed, voice inaudible over the massacre of wood-paneling, paint and polystyrene that was being executed just inches above him. A letter-opener, small but sharp.

"Is he dead?"

"I think he's dead."

"Go in there."

"Why should I go in, my fucking hand is crippled. You've got the gun, you should go."

"Yeah, and if I go and he fucks me up with his Judge shit, then he'll have a gun, and how will that go for you?"

"Fuck." The man sighed, realizing the Lunari was right. "Alright, cover me."

The man got one leg through the window before Nate leapt up from below the desk and shanked him through the throat. But he wasn't done there, using the man's still trembling body as cover as he died slowly, pushing back through the window, back into the med-bay's main room.

One blast shot into the man's chest, burrowing a deep hole into it. Nate dry-retched, the smell of burning flesh digging into his sinuses. The next shot would go through the man and hit him.

"You hit Marko, you stupid fucking Lunari!"

"He is-was-f-fuck, I don't know." The Lunari stammered. "I didn't want to be here, didn't--fuck, stay the fuck back!"

Nate held the man by the back of his head as he body-walked him forward, keeping the body's head facing at the two others. The blood still poured from his throat, but hopefully the man still had enough light in his eyes to keep him from shooting.

"I said s-stay back!" The Lunari yelled, voice cracking.

But Nate was close enough now. He shoved the body forward, took his letter-opener and hurled it at the gunman.

And missed.

The blade clattered uselessly into the catheter behind him, splitting a bag of urine open, the contents pouring down onto the floor by the liter.

And I thought the smell couldn't get any worse. Isabelle said.

Nate was already moving as the Lunari caught the body, pushed it aside in pure panic, raised his gun hand again. He caught the barrel and tweaked it to one side with a single finger, just as it fired. The red hot heat burnt his finger, the skin melting off.

But now he was close enough. He'd lost the fight to Xavier. He wasn't going to lose the fight with these two bumbling fucks.

Jab to the ribcage to wind him. Slap to the side of face to rattle his vision. His guard dropped. Rabbit-punch to the throat to send him down.

And then there was one.

He stumbled back, eyes fearful. Those eyes dropped to Nate's waist. "The fuck is wrong with you man?! You're fucking hard."

Nate looked down. And so he was. The adrenaline. The rush. The blood. He laughed.

This felt right.

"Yes." He smiled. "Yes, I guess I am."

Nate stepped forward. The man threw a punch which Nate took clean on the chin without flinching.

One to the ribs that made him grunt. Another to his hip.

But then Nate had his back, arms around his neck, tightening.

"It's okay." Nate muttered. "Easy now." The man's legs kicked, pale skin going paler still. Nate made a short sharp motion and the man's neck broke with a nasty crunch.

Not as loud as when a bug's neck breaks. He thought idly.

Nate, are you okay? Isabelle asked.

Yes. Why?

It's only...well. She trailed off.

Nate looked down at himself. Red with blood. One of his ribs were sticking out through his stomach. Blood washed down the V of his stomach and onto his erect cock, hard and swaying.

He shivered, suddenly, cold. Wet. Clammy. He realized he was still holding the man's neck as he died. He stumbled back.

"Trainee." Someone said. Nate looked up, eyes blurry. Was he crying?

It was Rivero.

"Trainee, stand down. They're done, you're okay now." Her voice was softer.

He stared down at his feet. A pool of blood, washing at his toes. Where had it come from? He had to get away from it.

One shaking step and he slipped on the blood, falling forward, into Rivero, into her warm embrace.

"Sorry, Gunny." He blabbered, shivering.

"Easy, trainee. I've got you. I've got you." The alarms were blaring now. People were rushing into the room. The doctors, staring with wide eyes. Instructors, yelling.

He drowned all of it out, focusing on Rivero and those strange, deep red eyes, letting himself fall limp against her. She didn't have her eye-bandage on.

He grinned, loopy. He was going to go to sleep now. Sleep sounded so good.

He wanted to sleep forever.

But Rivero was still saying something and he didn't want to fall asleep on her. Rivero was warm and nice and valued honesty, so he should be honest with her. "You know, Gunny, for a tightass, you have a really tight ass."

He caught a single second of her alarmed wide eyes before he let the blackness descend.