Freelancers

Desperation

Unfazed by the blaster leveled at her, Veriss released the rifle and deliberately pushed against her assailant, propelling herself into a quick backwards fall. Time seemed to slow as the guard looks on with surprise and began to retrain his pistol on her. He was fast, but she was faster. During her descent to the hard, durasteel floor, she extended her left arm, primed, and fired the flechette launcher mounted to her vambrace. Five darts pierced the guard's lightly armored torso, and he fell to the floor in a pool of blood. As she lay there, blaster bolts pierced the darkness in front of her. Veriss quickly rolled over to a prone position behind cover, and their bolts glanced harmlessly off of the floor beside her. She checked her wrist display.

Armed.

She exploded upwards from the floor into a split stance to face the remaining guards, and raised her right arm towards them. The wrist-mounted railgun glowed a deep orange as it prepared to launch the superheated projectile. She yelled angrily, and for a quick second, she was louder than the energized weapon on her arm. 

She fired. 

The shockwave nearly knocked her off balance, but training helped her to redirect the force downward through her firmly planted feet. After the initial flash and sonic boom, the room fell quiet. Her dark red-gold locks of hair whipped around her face. The air surrounding the line of fire pulsated with energy, and smelled of burnt flesh and ozone. The chemtrails from the railgun's projectile were still visible, and slowly dissipated as she stood surveying the hallway. No remaining guards were left at their feet.

Veriss surveyed the room. Blaster fire charred all sides of the hallway. The pulsating red lights revealed sizable portions of metal that had been sheared off from the firefight, exposing the bundles of cable and conduit beneath. Her heads up display started to beep.

Viridium depleted.

She did not anticipate using her railgun so soon. She also did not anticipate firing at maximum power.

"Let's hope I don't run into any more parties along the way," she said quietly to herself as she surveyed her surroundings.

She cleared the dust from her face, picked her rifle up from the floor, and started into a jog towards the mouth of the hallway. Positioned at the hallway's edge, she carefully peeked around the corner.

Clear.

After she carefully gathered and reoriented herself, she took off in a sprint towards the control room.

---

The central cooling system of the medical ward kicked on with a low rumble. Recycled air emptied into the room, and circulates the sanitized air within. Jag woke up and promptly coughed and gasped for air. The attendant stood next to a device monitoring his vital signs. He glanced up from his ever-present clipboard and smiled at Jag.

"You're awake. How do you feel?" he said calmly.

Jag looked down at his strapped extremities, and noticed the bluish-purple bruising across his chest. He tries to take in a deep breath of air, but encountered excruciating pain. He grimaces as he endured it.

Jag snapped, "Does that answer your question?"

"Fortunately for you, the majority of your body is under pain regulators; whatever you're feeling is significantly toned down. I ran some brief tests while you were under," said the attendant matter-of-factly.

He glanced back to his clipboard and flipped through several pages.

"Your head trauma is significant, a shattered left humerus, second degree burns across twenty percent of your shoulder, and heavy bruising. Additionally, you had a collapsed lung; I took the liberty of inflating it for you."

The attendant circled around to the foot of Jag's restraining table, and finally placed the clipboard down.

He smiled and said coolly, "I've taken care of you. Now, it's your turn to take care of me."

Jag, confused at this statement, begins to talk but is immediately shut down by a fierce burning sensation on his left side. The man in the lab coat slowly turned a dial on the apparatus that Jag is connected to. The medicinal drip stopped and the full forces of his injuries suddenly slam into him like a twelve-ton slab of durasteel. He stifled a scream and shot a venomous look at his captor. The attendant continued to stand there smiling.

"Who sent you here? What are you looking for? Your employers can't save you; you should tell me what you know," says the attendant patiently while walking back to Jag's side.

He slowly lowered his hands to rest on the table.

He leaned in close to Jag's face and whispered, "Or, you can continue to resist me and wait for the inquisitor to arrive."

He quickly leans back and straightens his posture.

"It's your choice," he states.

He adjusted his lab coat and returned to the foot of the bed to pick up his clipboard; the life support systems steadily beep in the background. He turned his back towards Jag to double check the flashing screen behind him.

"Anyway, we'll find out what we need to know one way or another," he says, calling out over his shoulder.

Jag continued to endure the pain in silence. His restraints were pulled taut and there was little leeway for movement. He was effectively paralyzed. The bright overhead lights were disorienting and prevented him from fully discerning his captor's features. Nonetheless, it did not prevent Jag from thinking of creative ways to slowly end the other man's miserable existence.

The attendant stepped away from the system console and turned around to face Jag once again.

He said, "It's only a matter of time before you break. You see, I'm the nice guy; I doubt you'd like to meet our inquisitors."

Jag's silence and blank stare visibly frustrated the attendant. He walked around the restraining table and headed towards the door. He paused at the exit and cocked his head to the side as if to make a final statement, but decided against it. His fingers fly across the number pad to unlock the door's security mechanism. He stepped through the opening reviewing the notes on his clipboard. The door shut smoothly and the medical ward's bright lights slowly dim then flicker off. Jag was once again left alone in darkness, save for the soft green glow of his life support.

He closed his eyes, and in this moment, he was content to rest.