Bad Company Reject

R

RushieSlushie

Guest
Original poster
The desolate, war torn air was harsh in the wastes, civilization wasn't close by. He cursed the ground as he spit upon it, lugging his tote and gun in hand, covering his face with his mask to get the dirt riddled air away form his lungs, filtering for some salvageable oxygen. Terrible place to be wounded and abandoned. He trudged on past the hailstorm of dirt and debris buffering his figure and scratching at whatever bare skin was showing, clinging to his hair and clothes, especially the bloodied bandage on his leg, he hobbled. Every step made him grunt in pain as he searched for refuge from the sandstorm, hoping the locals were a bit friendly to outside visitors. This war was not against the poeple but their reign of government and he hoped they were not partial to it as well.
 
The storm was by no means a surprise to the people many had already ducked inside. One soul braved the storm, working on covering her small fruit stand with tarps. Her features were wrapped tight, only her green eyes visible behind the red patterned shemagh like cloth over her head. Her body wrapped in a blowing blue dress, modest and suited to the hot weather. The storm was nearly rippin the tarp off by the time she tied down the last corner. Turning she stared into the storm seeing the figure stumble about. "Hey!" She cried out, her voice no doubt drowned by the storm. She scurried through the blowing sand, quickly grabbing the figure's arm and tugging him into the small home right behind her stand. Managing to get the door closed she sighed, tugging the bottom of the cloth over her head down, revealing rather fine features, tanned skin, and black curly hair. "Sit, sit." She urged him to the floor, a dusty carpet upon it. The place was quite bare. A small hearth for a kitchen, a bed upon the floor made of a thin cushion, a chest in the corner holding presumably clothed. She dared leave the home again the grumble of a small generator coming. Dim lights helping to see though be dust as she re entered.
 
H was surprised as he was tugged into her home, sitting down as she asked, slowly taking the mask off to dust it off, His 5 o clock shadow was saved form debris as he swatted the cloth against a wall to rid the dust off, looking at her with deep blue eyes
"Thank you, the storm was becoming unbearable..."
He smiled slightly with a crook in his lips, no teeth shown but a friendly smirk as his eyes wander down to the bandage on his leg, he took his uniform off to get to the cleaner cloth of his shirt, ripping off a bit of the sleeve and replacing the bloodied bandage with new support, wincing a bit form the pressure and finally showing himself the new work. His hand wandered up to his short black hair and tried to dust off whatever dirt was in, beads of gravel flew off and specks of dust wavered in the air. Rush looked at the woman in front of him and extended his arm to her, hand outstretched in greeting the finger less gloves caked in clay.
 
She looked down to him, a bit of concern crossing her as she noted his wound and the apparent nature of the male. Noting his outstretched hand she took a moment before she extended her own, her skin made rough from the storm. "Are you a soldier?" She questioned cautiously while she shook his hand. She kept a bit of cautious distance from him, both sides worried her. Both sides didn't leave much alive or atleast unmolested in their wake from what she had seen and heard. Her eyes glanced over him checking for weapons, looking to the door to make sure he wasn't followed. In this storm she had to doubt it, the sheet metal roof over their head rattling in the sand. At least the rags kept the sand out save for the bits that got through the door.
 
He noted the look on her eyes and sighed
"..I'm not going to hurt you if that was your worry..."
He further proved by taking out his assault rifle, buffeted by the sand so the paint job was coming undone, and flicked on the safety, also taking out the magazine and tossing it away to the other side of the room, He then followed her eyes to the door
"..My squadron left me when I was wounded by shrapnel form an armored buggy three clicks from here, so I'm alone for now..."

He looked at her fragile yet perfect features and looked around her house for signs of other home bodies

"..I won't take your time..just enough for the storm to die down."
 
She stiffened slightly as he took up his rifle, a look of true fear in her eyes before he tossed it aside with a clatter. Slowly she nodded, looking the male over once more while he told his story. She knelt down, slowly reaching for his crude bandage. "How bad?" The woman questioned, paying no mind to him as he spoke of leaving. He had offered her something by showing he wouldn't hurt her it was only right that she help him. Raising her eyes to him she waited before she did much more than observe the wound through the bandage.
 
He watched her terror fly away and he slowly lifted the leggings of his armor again, showing her the still slightly bleeding cut
"..Went all the way through to the bone...It hurt like a bitch to walk here bu nothing a few years on the force can't break..."
He chuckled and looked at her
"..I'm sorry for scaring you...can I at least ask the name of my host?"
 
Listening carefully she began to unwrap the bandage with methodical ease. She had seen many and she had seen worse. Leaving him a moment she got into the chest, drawing out a vacuum sealed bag, one a surgeon would have for such things in a field hospital. Prying it open she drew out a small vial and a needle. "Kiarra." She replied simply before injecting right above the wound with the fast acting numbing compound. Lifting her eyes to him once more she gave him a moment before using forceps, doing her best to be quick as she drew out the shrapnel and rinsed the wound with a small bottle of saline. "Your name?" She asked before beginning to stitch him up.
 
he tensed and jerked at the stinging of the solutuion but his amazement at her work and speed of the process amazed him. He gently lifted his leg stiff to give her better ease and access
"..Gunnery Nick Bolter....but everyone calls me Rush..I guess you can too for saving my leg."
He flashed her a warm smile
"Kiarra huh...lovely name, but do you mind telling me what district I'm in, and if it's hostile..."
He placed pressure on his leg after she was down but felt relieved at the numbing sense and the fact that the lodged shrapnel was gone, looking at the piece of metallic shards on the ground
 
She raised a brow, wrapping gauze around the stitches. "Your people simply call it... District gamma... We know it as the Fiare... Most of the soldiers are gone, as well as most of the civilians..." She replied tapping the gauze down and moving back to give him a bit of space. It will only be a matter of time before the fighting comes here once more," her eyes lowered as she rested her hands in her lap, almost demure in the action. Her small home already had a few bullet holes in the crude brick walls, some mortared closed, others stuffed with strips of cloth.
 
He looked down at her as he was perched on a chair, receding his leg and feeling the blood rush once more to his limb, the color slowly comes back, and the gauze bleeds through slightyly, still healing but not as bad as when he arrived.
Using his disabled rifle as a crutch, he limped over to the wall to examine the walls, then looked at her, standing still over her, then sits back down
"..IF the civilians are mostly gone..why are you still here?
 
Kiarra gulped slightly while he looked over her from her position upon the dusty floor. For a small moment she was worried before she watched him sit again. "I'm still here because my brother is out there... He's one of the rebels fighting with your people. This was... Is our home. He used to sell the fruit and now I do... To the few who remain." She replied a hint of defiance at the thought of leaving in her voice. "I haven't heard from him in weeks..." She reached in her pocket, producing a folder and far deteriorated photo, partially burnt, creased, sun leached. Slowly she offered him if, as if he would know anything.
 
HE reached over, gently taking the picture while brushing her wingers in his leather glove, small specks of dirt flake off at the contact as he looks at the photo
Gears start turning a bit as he looked at the picture, but then a small smile formed
:..I'll be damned..."
he smirked more as he handed the photo back to her, the warmth opf his smile was very omnipotent against his hardened visage of a solider, like she could see the warmth he brought off the field
"Your brother is safe and alive, in one of our outposts for shelter. Some of his rebel troops stopped by after they heared we were fighting with them. Glad he wasn't one of the others. He's being well taken care of."
 
A bit of surprise crossed her as he spoke, the smile spreading to her own lips in response. "He is? Truly?" She questioned as she brought the photo tight to her chest in a makeshift hug as if he would feel it if she embraced it hard enough. She fought the urge to embrace him in thanks for the news. "You don't have to leave as soon as the storm ends soldier..." She spoke, wanting to repay him for his kindness. "You can stay until you can walk easier."
 
He smiled a bit at her and looked down at his leg, trying to move it but inces when the pain speeds though his nerves, he relaxes though and nods
"...Probably best, but I don't want to be an intrusion though...I'll help wherever I can around the house I guess."
 
She shook her head, "You aren't an intrusion, not with that news." Kiarra replied quickly before she looked about, she rolled out a second bed that had been folded and put aside, the one her brother had used. Laying it out for him she offered a quick nod. "That will be yours, sorry it's just a cushion... it's all we have..." She was simply excited to know her brother was still alive.
 
He nodded, gently lowering himself down to the floor, his back to her as he started to take off his combat armor, the hefty jacket landed onto the dirt ground with a solid lumping sound, dust picked up form the impact as he reached for his shirt, taking it off slowly, back still to her as he folded it neatly, His form and features were very strong, his muscles were rippling even form behind, but he wasn't bulky. He looked averagely trim and muscular but dared not to turn to her as he dried to air dry his shirt
"..Thanks..I'll accept anything after walking in the desert..."
 
By the gods she was sinning, to look upon a man's naked form that was neither betrothed nor relative could get her stonnee in some places. Worse yet it was government sanctioned to do so. Still she couldn't draw her eyes off the somewhat dirty but still strong male. There was a bit of an exotic nature to him she figured, his kind were new to her world. Still she gave him a nod, "once the storm dies down I can arrange a bath for you. I'm sure you'd need one." It was a slight tease, more or less trying to keep the mood light.
 
He couldn't help but snicker at this, looking at the grime on his arms , especially on his elbows.
He did not know the custom of this place and he stood, turning to face her so she could see the body that was molded by training, but he did not do this to tease or cause a rise, but because he wanted to face her and speak, respect her, after all he was a guest in her house
"...I do think I do, where is the bathhouse?"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back