Search & Destroy (55)

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The screams alone holds a distinct place in my mind. Right off the bat all she did is thrash around even in the company of Collins. The woman frowns at me as she restrains the clearly hysteric Euralian against the bed, securing her by the limbs with the assistance of two other soldiers.

"You really shouldn't have done that," Collins glowers, almost in reprimand, heaving a sigh as she continues, "no telling how bad's the concussion."

Just as she concludes, another bout of commotion pulls our attention to the bed where the woman lies. Her legs bucked and kicked in a considerable show of strength, shifting the entire bed even though its wheels were already locked. James hastens towards the patient, ushering the two men away as he stands near her head, his visored glare projecting a stern demeanor.

The base' only qualified medic then lowers his gaze down, attempting as much as possible to gently pry her head to the right, revealing the visible swelling and dried specks of blood. "No nasal discharge, or anything serious thankfully. Can't say for certain if there's a fracture though, best we can do is give her time to rest. We'll need time to see the full extent of her injuries, so until then, interrogation's off-limits."

"Well it's not like we can talk to her anyways," Robert shrugs, evidently miffed, "those damn pendants we have are inert. She'll be a tough nut to crack unless we somehow get those things working again."

I step in with a thought. "Which leaves us with another mouth to feed, unless we're willing to send her away," I say, already sensing the disapproval from James and a few others.

"Not it her current state. It's a shit idea Jerome, not gonna happen," James quickly objects, shaking his head as the woman slowly calms down, her hysterics fading behind a newfound glint of shock. She swings both legs off the edge of the bed, raising a hand to cradle her left temple. A searing glare exudes from her eyes, directed right at me.

Anger, hurt, and a surge of other complex emotions run across her face in a hectic web of expressions. And here again lies that same pang of familiarity, prickling at my thoughts like a constant swarm of ants. It is unrelenting, growing stronger as the deepest recesses of my mind produces a clear image of a woman with a hesitant smile, dressed in flowing silks that appeared to be just as smooth as her hair as she presents herself with a welcoming demeanor—my very first casual interaction with anyone from this world.

That was a faded memory, from our first forays into the nearest major city to our west. But the resemblance now is obvious, even with her hair now a tangled mess of strands and marred by smudges of dirt—a direct contrast to that neat ponytail and regal posture from that prior image.

"It can't fucking be," I scrutinize every part of her just as she reciprocates in kind. Her name escapes me for the moment. Only that it should start with an 'A'. Guilt, surprise, and everything in between sweeps through my mind before collapsing into a singular thought—one that should have been evident from the start.

Whatever her intentions are, it is anything but hostile. Assuming this is not a severe case of mistaken identity, prior observations from that time in the city all but supports that assessment. She, for the lack of a better term, didn't represent much of a threat. Or at least, she didn't have the capacity to be considered as such.

"Je... rome," the woman murmurs, bruised face still twisting with emotion. She stands up, brushing aside Collins who respectably stands back before striding right up to me, gaining a sudden surge of confidence that seems wildly out of place considering the hysterics just moments ago.

James rounds the bed, catching right up to her and stands a fair distance away—observing with a tense gaze. The ambience diminishes. Snippets of conversation fade away, replaced with a sharp and taut atmosphere as I return the sudden glare directed at me.

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