Write 2 Rank 2022: Girl Fights

Round 4, Green Belt: Action and Romance

Crouching upon a pile of rubble, Dreya Thorn watches in silence as two corporation synths walk through the doorway. They step cautiously over the rubble on the floor while scanning the dimly lit storefront. She drops down, silent as a cat and stalks them, crouched low to stay out of eye-level. In her hand is the old pipe salvaged from a different building.

"Blood," the first synth says, aiming his rifle's searchlight at the bloody footprint on the floor.

"Investigate," instructed the other.

They look the same, as all synths do, but the second wears a project lead patch. A unit commander. Other synths are conditioned to follow his directions.

The first synth nods at the instruction and turns down a filthy aisle, following the next bloody print. The second scans the room. He looks right then left before glancing over his shoulder. His eyes go wide as they lock with Dreya's. She thrusts her pipe up, ramming the pointed end of the rusted weapon through the synth's mouth and into his brain. Despite being artificially grown by The Corporations, their anatomy is identical to humans. Kill the brain, kill the synth.

The body drops and the first synth turns in response to the noise. Dreya takes cover as he raises his weapon.

"Engaging."

Dreya stays low and shifts her grip on the pipe. The weapon is crude, but effective. Not to mention it's all she has. She listens to his footfalls as he draws closer, preparing to strike.

A sickening thud.

The synth drops to the floor, sending dust into the air. In the light of their rifles, it looks like snow. Paladin Forest Alba crouches beside the body and strikes the back of his head a second time with the butt of her own rifle.

"It took you long enough," Dreya says as she starts to loot their bodies.

"You didn't tell me your plan," Paladin Alba grumbles. "You just told me to be ready and slinked into the shadows."

"There wasn't really time to talk."

"The Megachurch teaches: those that will not listen to the words of the church are wrong in their heart and mind."

Dreya looks up from the bodies, her face a mask of annoyance and confusion.

"What does that narrow-minded crap have to do with anything?"

"Narrow-minded crap? The teachings of the church are the only thing keeping the righteous from falling into sin."

"If that's the only thing keeping you from sinning... nevermind." Dreya shakes her head and returns to the task of salvaging what she can.

Paladin Alba sits down and gingerly examines her bloody feet. The bottoms are crisscrossed with gashes. Most are shallow, but a few are deep with shards of glass jutting out. She hisses as she tries to remove a long thin piece from her sole. Dreya watches for a moment, surprised at the sleek contours of the Paladin's feet. Shaking her head, Dreya goes back to rummaging through the synth cargo pants. Her hands fall on a small kit.

With a sigh, she looks over at Forest. "You look like you can use some help."

The paladin stares, visibly fighting back her own words, before finally nodding.

Careful not to touch it with her bare hand, Dreya moves one of the rifles until its spotlight illuminates Forest's bloody feet. Handing the kit to the paladin, Dreya unzips it and pulls a set of sterile tweezers from its collection of first aid tools. She reaches for the largest piece of glass and Forest flinches.

"I didn't even touch it yet," she chuckles.

"Look... my feet are sensitive."

"Really?" Dreya purrs. She bites her lip when the paladin's cheeks turn red.

"Stop staring at me," Forest turns away, focusing on the far wall, "Do it, but be quick." Her voice sounds small, vulnerable, the opposite of the imposing Zealot Paladin everyone fears.

"I'll be gentle," Dreya says playfully.

Despite her teasing tone, Dreya is careful. She grabs hold of the glass shard and pulls it out of the gash with surgical delicacy. At Fort Greenwich, she'd had to learn many roles: fighter, medic, insurgent. She'd had to learn to be brutal when necessary, but also tender. She drops the glass on one of the dust-covered shelves that had likely once held pet food or toys. She removed another and another.

The next piece is thin, but longer than the rest. When Dreya pulls it, Forests gasps.

"Sorry, this one is really in there." Dreya smiles. "Take a deep breath. I'll pull it on the count of three. Okay?" Dreya winks and carefully takes hold of the glass sliver. "One. Two-"

She yanks out the glass and a spray of blood hits her cheek.

"Fuck!"

"Stay still." Dreya grabs the kit from the floor and retrieves a small canister. "This is going to sting."

Dreya sprays the contents over Forest's foot and a layer of foam-like sealant covers the bottom. The paladin squirms as the chemicals bond with her flesh. It burns, Dreya has had her share of field injuries to confirm. She tries not to let the sizzling sound bring back bad memories.

"Take it off," Forest whispers. "Take it off, I can't bear it!"

"You'll need medical-grade remover. These synths don't carry that."

"Fuck," the paladin groans.

"There you go with that word again. I didn't know they taught you to be bilingual back at your Megachurch."

"Bilingual?"

"Yeah. Fuck." Dreya makes an obscene gesture with her fingers.

Forest looks away. "Don't be absurd. Vulgarity is not acceptable... I will have to repent once I return to the church."

"How does that work? You break the rules and then just ask the church to forgive you?"

"Yes, and we pay penance."

"Sounds strict." Dreya begins to massage Forest's feet, starting just above the ankle and working her way outward.

"It's the price we pay for righteousness." She moans and closes her eyes. "Stop, that tickles."

"It doesn't sound like you really want me to stop?" Dreya moves her hand up to Forest's calf and she doesn't pull away.

"You're a heretic and I'm a paladin. My job is to hunt you people."

"What do you do once you catch us?"

Forest meets her eyes and Dreya can see she doesn't want to know the answer.

"Give me the other foot."

Forest does as she's told and Dreya continues her first aid in silence. This foot has more cuts than the other, but less glass. She only applies the sealant to avoid dirt and grit getting into the wounds. When she's done, she puts everything back into the kit and pockets the useful tools. She stands and looks out the window for any sign of synths or dark claws.

Forest's strong fingers close around her hand.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Despite all of the religious rhetoric you have a body that screams sacrilege."

Forest tugs Dreya's hand. "Don't say such things, heretic. I've taken vows of the highest order."

"Then what should I say? That I expected a frigid monster in that armor, but instead I found something... beautiful?"

The Paladin blushes and Dreya leans in until their noses nearly touch.

"Why don't you tell me what you want me to say?"