Atomic Rebooted

54. Identity

CLAIRE

As soon as I felt like I could breathe again, I realized that Renegade and the Sentinel were bleeding out all over my carpet.

"Shit," I muttered. I repeated it again, in an almost sing-song pattern detached from the situation unfolding in front of me. "Shit, shit, shit—"

I tore a bit of the fabric of my cape away from the bundle Renegade was holding and gave it to the Sentinel.

"Thank you." Her voice was more like a fluttering gasp. She pressed it to the wounds around her chest, but there were so many, staining her costume a darker shade of red—

"So do we give them stitches?" I looked to Warlock, desperate fro help. "Oh God, I don't know how to sew up a human—oh God, they're going to die—"

"No one's going to die." Warlock's voice was weary. "Stabilize the blood pressure on him, just a minute."

He then pressed his hands to the Sentinel's shoulders. Tension released in her shoulders as her skin knitted together, the blood coagulated, as if time itself had been reversed.

She sat up as soon as he was done and looked up to Warlock with obvious admiration.

"Thanks."

"It's no problem." Warlock turned to Renegade and winced. "I'll do my best. I—I wasn't ready to use this much."

He planted his hands on Renegade's chest, and the same healing magic happened to him. Bleeding stopped, wounds closed, the whole shebang.

Renegade's eyes flew open and his limbs jerked around for a second, as if he'd been electrocuted. Then he fell limply back onto my bedroom carpet. But he was breathing.

He sucked in a large breath as he slowly opened his eyes, wincing as he sat up.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "Is it still hurting?"

"Not exactly," Renegade said. "It's hard to explain—- I made a large jump. I'm sorry— we lost because of me."

He then looked to Warlock, who was swaying on his knees. "I'm sorry—thanks, man—"

Warlock nodded, right before he collapsed to the floor.

"Oh my God, we killed him!" My hands flew to my mouth.

The Sentinel crawled over to Warlock and felt his pulse. "No, he's just unconscious. But he strained his powers. And I can't carry him out like this."

I surveyed my room. There was blood all over the carpet, and us. We were a hot mess.

"I should have grabbed the bags, we're going to need them." Renegade shook as he stood up. I dashed to support him.

"Are you crazy, you clearly can't do it—"

There was a stubborn glint in his eyes. "I think I can do this. Besides, it's evidence that could be tied to our civilian identities."

"Wait," I protested— but then he was gone.

Just as quickly, he stumbled back with the two backpacks and my messenger bag, face planting on the carpet. I realized with horror that he had a nosebleed as yet more blood stained the place.

"You idiot," I chided as I helped him sit down, and tore a bit off of my tunic. The costume was already ruined anyway from all the blood.

"I'm sorry. All of this is my fault." His eyes were nearly a thousand miles away.

Oh.

I reached out a hand to his shoulder, letting my anger melt away. "It's alright. It's no one's fault, what happened—except for Tenebrous's."