Hardened (A Yogscast Fanfiction)

21

The first thing I noticed was the crackling of torches, and as my eyes fluttered open the dim light still assaulted my senses and sent pain shooting through my head. Closing my eyes again, I focused on breathing for a few minutes, since that seemed to be the hardest thing to do right now; every breath felt like there was a 100 pound weight on my chest that continued to rebreak my ribs. I tried swallowing, but my mouth and throat were as dry as a bone and it did nothing but send another shot of pain throughout my chest.

I tried to sit up, but only realized that it was a stupid idea as a strangled noise involuntary escaped my throat and I feel back against the pillow. I hissed through my teeth and crushed my eyes closed, feeling as if I had just been shot again. A flurry of movement at the end of my bed caught my attention, and my tried my best to get a view of whoever it was without moving my head.

"Hey, don't try to move," Ross cooed, his voice barely over a whisper. He appeared at my side and ran a hand across my forehead to push the stray hairs out of my face.

"Wha... What happened?" I managed to choke out. The last thing I remember is showing Smith the tunnel bores; everything else was a jumble of lurid dreams and false realities. I was shirtless, but heavy bandages wrapped around my ribs and stomach.

He gave a small chuckle. "You were shot," he muttered, walking over to a chest and pulling out a bucket of water. Sitting down and drawing a hand under me to support my back, he gingerly lifted me a few inches off the pillow so I could drink, and even the cold from the water seemed to add to my pain as it traveled down my throat.

Things were starting to come back to me, and I suddenly started to panic as I thought of a certain green-skinned man who had managed to chase away my attackers. "Where's Smith?" I asked, still a bit dazed and getting more tired with every labored breath, "Is he okay?"

Ross gently set me back down and took a step back, revealing another bed a few feet from mine. Smithy was there, and though he didn't seem to have any physical wounds, you could tell he was in pain. Sweat shone and plastered his hair against his forehead, and every so often he would flinch or let out a groan. His eyes were crushed closed, and his fits would be interrupted by bouts of exhausted sighs as he collapsed against the bed.

"She's doing something to him," Ross growled after letting me watch the struggling form for a while. Stepping over to stand by his friend, the dark-haired man ran a hand tenderly down the side of Smith's face. It was odd to see him act in such a way, since normally they were constantly joking an insulting each other, and it suggested that something very bad was occurring. "That witch," he hissed, his fist clenching above Smith's head as he glared at a point in the floor.

"What's wrong with him?" I questioned, unable to draw my gaze away as he let out a particularly loud shout.

"The whole reason those two were here in the first place was to tag us," he told me, setting a wet cloth on Smith's head and then walking back over to me, "So she could make a voodoo doll and do whatever she wants. We're powerless to stop her and she's able to almost completely halt our progress." I could now remember Duncan mentioning something about tagging, and fear gripped my heart as I thought of all three of them in Smith's position.

"Did she-" I started to ask, but Ross answered my question by undoing the top button of his shirt and pulling back his collar to reveal a horrible dark splotch on his shoulder. The skin around the puncture was black and looked rotted.

"Luckily," he continued, "It seems that she didn't think of tagging you. So we still have hope." I flinched at the statement, imagining trying to defend Hat Corp while taking care of all three of them at the same time. Ross sat down next to me, and against his protests I pushed myself up into a sitting position.