Sanctuary

Varenna held his eyes for a moment, and again, he was surprised at the relief that flowed through his own consciousness. What was in her that attracted him so strongly?

Josh entered and directed Vishka to a supply room at the end of the hall. Jack couldn't remember exactly what atmosphere They breathed...hopefully the janitor's cleaning solutions would get the job done.

"Coffee, anyone?"

Jack smiled broadly and stood to face him.

"Josh. If I was a general, you'd be getting a promotion." He took the mug Josh offered gratefully.

 

Vishka nodded, and left the apartment. It took him several minutes to find the storeroom. What was the recipe? Damnit, it was on the tip of his 'tongue'. Salt. He needed salt. His lungs screamed for air. His vision darkened.

Vishka burst back into the apartment, stumbling, nearly crashing into Zefie. He threw open a cabinet door, taking a tin of sea salt. Would it be enough? Who knew. He moved to the kitchen sink, stoppered the drain and ran both taps, dumping the entire tin of salt into the water.

He was desperately fighting to stay conscious. The temptation to just lie down and go to sleep -- never to wake up -- was enormous.

He took a small remote from his thigh holster and placed it onto the counter. Then dropped his left hand into the sinkful of salt solution. With his right, he hit the button on the center of the remote, sending a shock through his body. The electricity served both to keep him awake with the pain, and to electrolyse the sodium chloride solution, producing a pale green gas.

Vishka pulled one of the tanks from his back and filled it with the precious Chlorine. Then he filled the other. Such relief. He breathed deeply for several minutes, so engrossed in the rich flavour of the gas, he forgot how lethal it was to humans...

 

Zefie felt a wave of relief wash over her when she realised V would be okay. She’d stood, tense, knuckles white as she clutched her rifle, the whole time Vishka was healing her friend, ready to shoot the alien at any sign that he was hurting Varenna. But he wasn’t. This particular Dragoon certainly was a puzzle, and one she intended to solve.

Not now though, she thought, taking a few steps forward to greet V with a wide smile. However, seeing Jack bend to take V’s hand made her hesitate, and she took another step backwards, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place.

She was glad of Joshua’s interruption, though she felt taking time for a coffee-break was pushing things. Though that could have been because she didn’t like coffee.

She had her back to the door when Vishka burst back through, faltering and almost knocking her to the ground. Surprised, she jumped back, watching with confused eyes as the Dragoon practically dived into the kitchen. Frowning, she shook her head and decided not to worry too much; who knew how Their minds worked?

She leant back against the wall while the others talked, but was soon distracted by a pale green gas floating through the kitchen door. Warily she took a few steps forward; through the haze she could see Vishka filling his air-tanks --

-- then she breathed in the gas. It had the strangest smell, like pepper and pineapple, but it burnt her nose and scorched the back of her throat and chest. Her thin frame shook with racking coughs, pressing her into a crouch, her free hand pressed over her nose and mouth.

“Wh-wha,” she choked, “What … is … that?”

 

Dre had been conveniently unconscious throughout many of the events and had been soundly napping on the couch for quite some time before the burning smell of the chemicals floating into the room from the kitchen managed to shake him out of the darkness in which he had been engulfed.

He had only suffered a few scrapes and bruises from his encounter with the Hunter-Stalker and was fine overall. Bits of memories began to resurface. He recalled Vishka stepping up to the plate to combat one of his own. Dre stood straight up and looked around frantically. Then he caught sight of the familiar hulking form in the kitchen and calmed down. He sat back down on the couch and heaved a great sigh.

 

V saw Zefie choking.

“Wh-wha,” she choked, “What … is … that?”

The They had run through the room like he had been on fire, finally running water in the kitchen and coming to rest. How could that be hurting Zefie? Was something else wrong with her?

"Are you all right, Zefie?" V got her feet and hurried toward her friend, "What's wrong?"

A strange scent touched her nose, something dimly remembered.

Something not right.

"Zefie, get out of there!" She said sharply and dragged her friend by the arm to the other end of the apartment. "Someone stop Vishka, break a window, something. I think what he's doing is poisonous."

 

"Someone stop Vishka, break a window, something. I think what he's doing is poisonous."

Jack turned and saw the green haze filtering over from the kitchen. He took a deep breath of the still-clean air and ran in to see the big alien standing over the sink; the green stuff pouring out of it. Jack shoved his way past Vishka to the window above the sink, and opened it. Still holding his breath, he dashed to the stove's range hood and clicked on the fan. He then began to motion everyone out into the hall while the green smoke cleared.

 

Zefie vaguely registered someone grabbing her arm in the midst of her coughing fit, and felt herself being dragged backwards. She couldn’t think straight though, her mind consumed by the burning in her chest. Couldn’t anyone stop it? Her lungs were on fire, her throat stripped raw by the gas and the constant coughing.

The cool touch of fresh air brought some relief, and she gulped it down eagerly. The itching and burning didn’t go away but were soothed enough for her thoughts to assemble themselves.

She looked up and saw V crouched over her, issuing orders. Jack took a breath and delved into the kitchen. Zefie tried to warn him about the green gas but all that came out of her throat was a rasping croak.

It hurt so much … what had Vishka done to her?

 

V crouched over Zefie who had slid down the wall and was looking very unwell. Something in the air.

"Jack, don't breathe! Get out of there!" V called to him.

She counted heads, it seemed everyone had made it to the hallway. A few were coughing.

"What is Vishka doing?" V anxiously called to Dre, "Do you know?"

 

Vishka felt ill. The humans were in pain; pain that he caused. It triggered a familiar sensation, like his body was trying to turn inside out, like his guts were ripping. He unstopped the drain, flushing the solution away. The remaining gas, being heavier than air, didn't disperse much throughout the apartment, and Vishka was able to seal off the kitchen by jamming wet sponges into the door jamb, keeping most of the gas inside.

He joined the others outside, in the hallway, not bearing to look at what he'd done to Zefie.
"I am... sorry. I... forgot."

 

Jack had charged out into the hallway after taking the appropriate measures.

"It's okay." He said to V. "You learn quick out in the field not to breath a foreign substance." A few moments later Vishka emerged, and looked to be almost in pain.

"I am... sorry. I... forgot."

It had been salt water in the sink, but what had he done to make the gas? Salt water; sodium choride...chlorine? Chlorine gas? He had somehow ionized the salt water and had filled up with chlorine.

"Alright well. I'll make sure we're good to head back in." He moved back into the dark apartment, holding his breath and keeping his eyes open for the gas. The kitchen door was closed and sealed off with sponges. He could hear the whir of the range hood fan from outside. None of the gas was visible outside the door. He smelled the air quickly, and it appeared to be gone.

"Okay, we're clear." He said out the door. "Just let the kitchen air out for a while."

 

V looked at Jack and back to Zefie who was still coughing.

"What kind of gas was it?" She snapped, "I have to know so that I can help her!"

The very fact that Zefie was coughing was a good thing. It meant she hadn't breathed much of whatever it was before expelling it.

 

Jack let out a breath, knowing the implications if she had breathed too much of it.

"I think it was chlorine."

 

V shook her head and turned back to Zefie. If Jack was right and if Zefie had breathed too much of it, there was nothing anyone could do. Chlorine gas effectively killed off respiratory tissues, killing the victim by asphyxiation. Not only was it a long slow way to die but it was irreversible.

Still, the coughing was good. The fact that the gas caused the victim to cough made the gas less effective, though sadly not ineffective, in warfare.

Zefie seemed to be catching her breath now. V watched her like a hawk, worried. She didn't move her eyes from her friend as she asked, "Anyone else having trouble breathing?"

 

Joshua coughed. "I think I'm good. Isn't chlorine what they used in world war 1?" His father had told him as much. Those endless history lessons...

Anger flared in his mind. "The basterd tried to poison us!" He coughed again. "I say we put it down. For the love of god, look what it did to Zefie!" He stared at the rest of the group, seeing if he was the only one who felt this way.

 

"Ease up, Josh. He wasn't trying to poison us. They can't breathe oxygen, that's why They carry air tanks around. He was trying to refill and some leaked. Accident."

He looked around at the others, knowing this probably wouldn't make him popular. Zefie was still coughing, but less violently.

"If you don't think so, why would he throw himself in harm's way for us? Why would he heal V's wound?"

 

V turned and was watching Vishka. She wasn't an expert at reading Their faces but he radiated dejection. He had said he had forgotten.

Forgotten that humans couldn't breathe what he breathed.

"He didn't mean to." V heard herself saying.

She was a bit shocked at herself, standing up for one of Them. Nevertheless this one was different. She approached it diffidently, hesitating before she put out a hand and placed it on the dragoon's arm.

A memory flashed through her mind of earlier today. One of Them killing her mother before her eyes. She flinched and dismissed it, keeping her hand in place with a small effort as she looked up into its face.

"Can you heal her?" V asked of Zefie, "Like you did me?"

 

Jess stood in the hallway, scrutinizing the pictures on the wall. Most were of who she presumed were his family. Pieces of Joshua were everywhere – the eyes there, the nose there. It was like a jigsaw.
The sound of shouting brought her back to the present. V dragged Zefie into the hallway, where she collapsed onto the carpet, coughing. Green gas leaked out of the kitchen.

Most of the group gathered around Zefie, faces strained with anxiety.

Jess silently agreed. However, the Lieutenant had said the Dragoon was an ally. He would not want it hurt – yet. She strode to one of the other windows and pushed it open.

 

The man he carried on his shoulder finally came to, relieving the strain of hoisting him. Darmetrius was in awe of the Dragoon's mysterious workings. He witnessed the Dragoon bring a woman practically back to life.

"I'll be damned... I have seen it ALL. I'm hangin' out with hot women, a freakin' alien..." he shakes his head a little and continues," and the second smoothest guy I've ever met in my life. Tell me, is there ANYTHING else I should keep a head's up for? Anything?!"

 

Mission V: Shoot Out
Mood Music

Objectives:
*Get to the roof!
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A brief respite seemed to have settled in over the group as they collected themselves in the small apartment. For a time, the smell of warm coffee seemed to have ushered out the poisonous stench of Vishka's chemicals, even serving to make the group temporarily forget their ultimate goal. It was something that each of them did not relish think of, rather wanting to stay in the peace of that apartment and that moment forever.

Yet, as often happens, the moment came to a close all to soon.


"I'll be damned... I have seen it ALL. I'm hangin' out with hot women, a freakin' alien..." he shakes his head a little and continues," and the second smoothest guy I've ever met in my life. Tell me, is there ANYTHING else I should keep a head's up for? Anything?!"

A barrage of bullets erupted from the floor below them, tearing through the thin floor of the apartment and shredding the room.

 

Things were just starting to settle down again. In fact, things had almost taken on a social atmosphere. But alas, it was not to remain. The mug dropped from Jack's hands as a chaos of gunfire erupted beneath them. Bullets tore through the floor at almost random locations, making a mess of the room.

"Out! Out!" Jack cried. "Keep moving! Everyone to the stairs!" He drew his guns and returned fire through the floor, hoping to at least ward off whoever was attacking.

 

Darmetrius ducked swiftly at the sound of bullets piercing the floor. He drew his AK as if ready to fire, but he would settle for knowing just what the hell he was firing at in the first place.

"What?!" he said with a hint of surprise.

"Out! Out!" Jack cried. "Keep moving! Everyone to the stairs!"

"Once is enough for me, let's roll," he answered back.

 

The unit of Dragoons had picked up on the subtle energies the Fyr na Vishka had given off when he had used the Healing. The unit might not have noticed had the Hunter-Stalker not taken the care to mark the Cursed One. Their orders had been clear. Kill the group of survivors, take the Cursed One in. The disc was with them and it was to be destroyed at all costs.

The five Dragoon unit carefully sneaked into the tall apartment build, each communicating through silent thoughts. They slipped into position in the room below the the group of survivors, picking out their targets with cold efficiency. Once their weapons were trained to the ceiling, they let the bullets fly.
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Roger Gordan never even had a chance to react to the flying steel orbs as they rocketed around the small room. Only eighteen, his excellent skills in the military academy were not enough to save him from death. The orbs tore through every part of his body, rendering him a barely recognizable mass of torn flesh and shattered bone.

However, the unfortunate demise of Roger was the only kill the Dragoons had been able to confirm. Their heat sensors tracked the other bodies fleeing out into the hallway and making for the stair well. Like silent death, the five Dragoons bolted into the hall and began making their way up the stairs, occasionally firing off shots at those who lagged behind.

 

Joshua was just about to offer Jess a mug with coffee when one of his walls exploded, and the body of the young man that stood only two yards away was shredded to pieces. He dropped the mug and stared at the heap of mangled flesh and bone that had been a human being just seconds ago.

"Out! Out!" Jack cried. "Keep moving! Everyone to the stairs!"

"Once is enough for me, let's roll," Darmentius answered back.

Joshua grabbed the rifle and his gun case and followed the other two men out of his apartment. “Oh sh*t, oh god!” He looked at the staircase and saw several Dragoons coming up. He counted one, two… Does it matter? You couldn’t even handle one.

“How the hell did they know we were here! How the hell did they know we would go here!”

 

When the upside-down hail of metal disks began, V grabbed Zefie by the wrist and pulled.

"Come on." She said urgently, "We have to go right now."

Jack was shouting as the group bolted upward. V could hear the dragoons following them. They made little noise to hear but there was an oppressive silence where they were, as though the dragoons pulled nearby reality from the air.

“How the hell did they know we were here! How the hell did they know we would go here!”

"Josh," V said firmly, "Don't waste your breath."

Now and then the silvery disks tore upwards, taking out banisters, chipping the edges of the stairs as the group climbed, pocking the walls and the ceiling.

V was almost dragging Zefie as the girl struggled to keep up. Tears of frustration pooled at the corners of V's eyes. She wasn't strong enough to carry her friend, that much she knew.

 

Zefie looked up, alarmed, as bullets started ricocheting around the room. The coughs had subsided for a moment, but her lungs still felt tight and constricted, her chest and throat still burning, and the scream that tried to come out as Roger was torn apart in front of her eyes was only a high-pitched wheeze.

Then V was in front of her, grabbing her wrist and hauling her to her feet. “Come on. We have to go right now.”

She pulled Zefie along with the group as the ran out and up the stairs, the silver disks that had killed Roger glancing off the banisters and walls, only just missing their targets.

Zefie wheezed and gasped as she was half-dragged up the stairs. The frustration boiled up inside her; she couldn’t run. She’d always been the fastest runner in the Junkyard, and now she couldn’t get the breath to push herself forward. But she had to keep going.