[Mercy misses the peace and quiet. She misses the days when she had the time to devote to research, and the worst chaos she might see would be an unusually busy day in the hospital ER. She longs for the bygone years of sterile operating rooms and cutting edge equipment, when saving a life meant a private recovery room and microwave food on a tray. Those days it had seemed like they could survive on idealism alone.
Now, it takes a little more work.
Smoke and rubble choke the narrow streets of the small Bulgarian village that has, as of a few hours ago, turned into an active war zone. UN forces had been deployed after vague reports of some sort of weapon stockpile had suddenly solidified along with plenty of talk that involved the words 'mass destruction'. Someone had suggested that perhaps she sit this one out, that the risk level was simply too high and her life would be worth more than the few civilians she might save if things went bad. She distinctly remembers being horribly offended at the time.
Thankfully, she had a degree of freedom afforded by her status that allowed her to thoroughly ignore any efforts made to keep her from boarding the transport along with the soldiers. Her first concern upon landing had been the evacuation of civilians in the immediate area, then to work her way out, trying to follow the troops as closely as she could, both for her safety and theirs. How rarely things go as planned, however.
Her ears are ringing from the unrelenting thunder of gunfire, but she can still hear the screams, echoing through an ally in the direction of a tightly packed group of row houses. She breaks away, pushing through the choking smoke from a building that she silently puts odds on collapsing behind her, a mental note made to consider a contingency plan if she found survivors and couldn't backtrack.
At first, she thinks it's one of the UN troops that darts across the alley ahead of her, someone who's been separated from the group, but she quickly realizes it's not. There's a flash of a jacket that she's seen before, although never in person- always on video, new reports, most wanted bulletins-- oh god.]
Wait! [She coughs through the smoke and spreads the winged thrusters of her suit, boots digging into the dirt as she braces for the glide.] Medic here!
[She doesn't expect him to wait, but it's better than not saying anything at all. She has to try. Her suit carries her forward, nearly to the intersection, she might actually catch him- but for the scream she'd heard earlier, a child leaning from a second story window, half the building around her crumbling away. She doesn't stop to consider the reason, only that what she wants--to keep going, to keep chasing what might as well be a ghost--is superseded without question.
A quick redirection of momentum and she's lifted herself high enough to grab hold of the window ledge with one hand, the other reaching out for the child, close enough to see the color of her eyes--
The massive omnic crashes through the building without warning and Angela shrieks before she can stop herself, her handhold crumbling along with everything around her, falling into empty air, the last glimpse of a tiny body pelted by brick and wood lost in the destruction--
She slams into the building on the opposite side of the street hard enough to take her breath away and possibly crack a rib if the sudden flash of pain is any indicator. She'll be lucky if it's just bruised. The child is nowhere she can see, everything around her dominated by a rain of broken building parts and the omnic responsible, its back bristling with what look like mortar launchers.
Closed to mylawn
Now, it takes a little more work.
Smoke and rubble choke the narrow streets of the small Bulgarian village that has, as of a few hours ago, turned into an active war zone. UN forces had been deployed after vague reports of some sort of weapon stockpile had suddenly solidified along with plenty of talk that involved the words 'mass destruction'. Someone had suggested that perhaps she sit this one out, that the risk level was simply too high and her life would be worth more than the few civilians she might save if things went bad. She distinctly remembers being horribly offended at the time.
Thankfully, she had a degree of freedom afforded by her status that allowed her to thoroughly ignore any efforts made to keep her from boarding the transport along with the soldiers. Her first concern upon landing had been the evacuation of civilians in the immediate area, then to work her way out, trying to follow the troops as closely as she could, both for her safety and theirs. How rarely things go as planned, however.
Her ears are ringing from the unrelenting thunder of gunfire, but she can still hear the screams, echoing through an ally in the direction of a tightly packed group of row houses. She breaks away, pushing through the choking smoke from a building that she silently puts odds on collapsing behind her, a mental note made to consider a contingency plan if she found survivors and couldn't backtrack.
At first, she thinks it's one of the UN troops that darts across the alley ahead of her, someone who's been separated from the group, but she quickly realizes it's not. There's a flash of a jacket that she's seen before, although never in person- always on video, new reports, most wanted bulletins-- oh god.]
Wait! [She coughs through the smoke and spreads the winged thrusters of her suit, boots digging into the dirt as she braces for the glide.] Medic here!
[She doesn't expect him to wait, but it's better than not saying anything at all. She has to try. Her suit carries her forward, nearly to the intersection, she might actually catch him- but for the scream she'd heard earlier, a child leaning from a second story window, half the building around her crumbling away. She doesn't stop to consider the reason, only that what she wants--to keep going, to keep chasing what might as well be a ghost--is superseded without question.
A quick redirection of momentum and she's lifted herself high enough to grab hold of the window ledge with one hand, the other reaching out for the child, close enough to see the color of her eyes--
The massive omnic crashes through the building without warning and Angela shrieks before she can stop herself, her handhold crumbling along with everything around her, falling into empty air, the last glimpse of a tiny body pelted by brick and wood lost in the destruction--
She slams into the building on the opposite side of the street hard enough to take her breath away and possibly crack a rib if the sudden flash of pain is any indicator. She'll be lucky if it's just bruised. The child is nowhere she can see, everything around her dominated by a rain of broken building parts and the omnic responsible, its back bristling with what look like mortar launchers.
She is officially in over her head.]