[Evolution] Resistance Mission I - Oklahoma Rescue

Panic flowed in Thomas’ body, he couldn’t believe he had just witnessed his power send someone –no, it wasn’t just someone, it was a soldier, an American soldier, someone who was only serving his country, their country- flying through the air for several meters. He looked at the body as it laid there on the solid ice for a whole minute. It still wasn’t moving. Oh God, did I just kill this guy, I’m so getting in prison for this! What do I do? I can’t just stand there. Thomas couldn’t just stand there indeed, he needed to know if the man was really dead, to know if he had become the victim of the E-Gen mutation by killing a human being.


The boy took a few careful steps, slowly approaching the soldier. His fear was still strong inside, which made him jump and look around each time he heard a loud noise. But that stopped soon enough as the sound of guns firing couldn’t be heard anymore. He steadied his slow walking, getting nearer to the unanimated body. A few steps later he could see the soldier’s deep blue eyes opened wide, but empty of any life. He could see blood in a small puddle under the man’s head.


It was official: he had killed someone by the use of his power. Why did he have to be cursed, he wasn’t like them! Well, he was not until now. How could he live with himself now? He couldn’t find an answer to that. And what if someone had seen him, what if he had been caught on tape, he would be discovered and taken, just like his brother. He didn’t want that. He liked his life as it was now. He is rich, he has friends, his parents love him and he even looks great. Thomas looked at himself thinking about that. Man, I’m a mess, I’ve got sand all over my body and in my hair, my shower’s gonna be long! But as he thought about washing up, he realized that he might not be able to shower again, to look good again. He had been caught up in the middle of everything because of a stupid choice he made and now he would regret it for all of his life, if he had one remaining.
 
Nadia stared blankly as Darren for a couple of seconds before a smile lit across her face. Darren and that stupid jacket. His moment of vanity in the middle of all this darkness was enough to break through her worry. She nodded at him, her head bobbing up and down rapidly, her chin quivering slightly as she tried not to cry. Bullets and battle didn't scare her. Losing her best friend... that was terrifying. She grabbed his hand, not caring about the emotional transfer. She took his pain, embracing and absorbing it, sending it through her body and replacing it with joy and peace like she had the first day they met. She grit her teeth and tried not to show how much it hurt on her face. Darren would never have asked her to do it, so in case he tried to pull away she gripped tight. It only took a few seconds and then she gave his shoulder one last squeeze and went back to work.


She got up from her crouched position and put herself back in play. Everyone was running to the trucks, scrambling for supplies to address the wounded. She moved through the trucks, gun ready, in case she came upon any stragglers. After a few moments she neared the edge of all their destruction. Then on the edge of the clearing, near where the ridge rose in the canon she saw a dark haired young man, standing in shock, a soldier at his feet. She'd never seen him before.


"Hey!" She yelled out (to Thomas), to get his attention. How did he get here? Who was he? What was he doing? She approached, running towards him. She raised her gun at his head. Unknown variables made her nervous. "Who the fuck are you?"


Just then one of her men, Eric approached. "What are you doing? Just saw this one reverse a bullet. He's one of us!" Nadia looked up at him, confused, but lowered her weapon from his face to his boots. Unconcerned with the kid, Eric got straight to the important things.


"We pushed them back over the ridge, Nadia but they had a chopper waiting. They must have called in for help. We need to move before back-up can arrive." Her eyes widened. How had they gotten help so fast? Suddenly she saw why he couldn't give two shits about some random spec boy. She nodded in understanding. Eric had been in their ranks for years. He knew what he was talking about.


"Time to go. Kid, come with us or stay. I don't really care. But in a few minutes this place is going to be swarming with military types and you really don't want to be around for that." She motioned to the body, unseeing eyes staring up at her. "We appreciate the help." And then she turned headed back to the medic trucks, yelling orders as she went.


"Daisy! Get them stabilized. Tank! Help her load the wounded into the trucks." She scanned the group of them. She couldn't find the driver the the truck that had come up behind. "Mischa! You're in charge of the last truck now. Get them ready to go." She found the driver of the first truck and gave him similar orders. Tank would drive the third. All around people were bringing people to the trucks, arms flung over friends shoulders, barely able to walk. One of her people walked by with burns on half her body and Nadia couldn't help but cringe. "Eric, take your men and do one last sweep! Make sure we have everyone." She keyed up her radio. "We move out in five."


She lifted herself into the truck, wedging herself in among the prisoners. She set her rifle back into the rack, glad to be free of it. Along the bench, the prisoners who didn't need serious medical care sat wide-eyed and confused. One of them caught her eye. He was middle-aged, far too thin, and had crazed eyes. He was rocking back and forth and his anxiety was off the charts. Worried, she rushed to him, crouching down to a lower height than his seated position, he hands resting on his knees. He was mumbling incoherently, babbling about how they were watching him, that they were coming. God, what had they done to him? Her heart ached for him, just watching the way he shook.


"Hi." She spoke sweetly, as if she was visiting an old folks home, as if her voice might frighten him. "I'm Nadia... what's your name?" At first she didn't think he heard her. His head cocked and he just looked right through her. Then, as if he had a moment of clarity, he shot forward, grabbing her arms in a vice grip.


"He-he-he's here. Mar-k-k. Low. Low. Loman i-i-is my n-n-ame. Name no matter. Nothing matter n-n-now. Over, yes over it is. All dead. ALL DEAD!" He stammered, his voice varying wildly from a whisper to a shout. Loman? Was that even a real name? People began to stare, sliding away from his part of the bench.


"It's okay Mr. Loman. We're going to take you somewhere safe." His fingertips were hurting her arm but she tried to keep her voice steady and soothing.


"Safe?! Nowhere is safe! Stupid, stupid girl." He laughed at her, finally letting go of her and withdrawing back into himself. His arms wrapped around himself as if he was cold in this hundred degree heat. His eyes no longer connected with hers.
 
Tank had found the injured girl that had run away from one of the convoy trucks in the initial attack and brought her to the truck with Aya, Ina, and Darren. Daisy was looking over Ina, checking the doctor's vitals and muttering to herself about having to go. As soon as the back door to the truck swung open again, she turned her attention to the newest edition to the severely injured.


"What's your name? Can you hear me?" she asked the girl as she assessed the bullet wound on her back. She looked conscious at least, and after removing the bullet the medic cleaned and dressed the wound. Daisy never found her work difficult until she had begun working under Ina, and this experience definitely pushed her to her limits. Sweat beaded down her forehead with the stress of the event and the strong summer heat.


"Doing one last sweep and then we're moving out," Tank informed the medic before heading back out into the fray. The sound of helicopter blades chopped through the air in a rhythmic pounding.


Smoke swirled and dust picked up into the sky as their enemies retreated, but those within the armored trucks were sheltered. Darren could still feel the warmth of Nadia's hand in his and the presence of Ina's power as she kept him alive. He turned his head to look over at the doctor and noticed the blood trickling from her nose. His pain had dulled enough to where he felt he was no longer dying, and he reached a hand back in an attempt to push Ina's away from him. He could only really manage a weak poke before the hand fell to his side once again.


"You should stop," he suggested. "I think I'm okay now. Thank you."
 
A smile came to Donovan's face. There, sitting on the bench slightly away from everyone was Mark Loman. He was pleased to see Nadia next to him. The Resistance thought him insane. In truth, he was. However, there was much more to him than just what is on the surface.


He had been concerned that Mark might have died in the firefight, but he was pleased to see that his was still alive. It was one of the reasons he had come to this event in person. Mark and Donovan had...history. They had faced each other in the field multiple times while Donovan was in the CIA, Loman had been in the FIS. Most important to Donovan, however, was the information that Loman had on Sector Ten. While he was certifiably insane and paranoid, Donovan couldn't take the chance that Loman would divulge about Sector Ten to the Resistance, not when Donovan's master plan was so close to fruition.


"I've identified Loman. Tell Marcus I will meet him at the FOB. Also, inform Roan that he is to make contact now." Without waiting for confirmation, Donovan focused down at the bench, just behind where Mark was sitting.


If anyone had been watching the man on the mountain, they would have seen him vanish from view. Less than a second later, Donovan was behind the bench without so much as making a noise. As the people nearby cried out and the Resistance members turned to point guns at him, Donovan looked directly at Nadia and said, "Thank you for finding my escapee Nadia. Your father would be proud of your service. We'll see each other soon." With that, Donovan reached down and grabbed Loman's shoulder and teleported.


A second later, he appeared with Loman in tow, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. "I have the package in tow. Issue emergency order: recall all non-critical operatives from reserves and field immediately. Begin prep for Operation Boom-Boom. It is time to make our presence felt."


"Yes sir!" came the enthusiastic response. The coming weeks of preparation would be crucial. Operation Boom-Boom would signal the first major offensive by Sector Ten since the Bloody Winter. The time had come to wage war once again.
 
Ina had felt her vision fading in and out, her body struggling to cope with the horrible stress she put on it with maintaining all of the fields across the area to protect as many of the specs and her team as she could on top of keeping Aya and Darren from going into complete shock. The internal bleeding on top of her other injuries was not helping her case either. Fortunately, Daisy had learned a lot while being under her care and managed to keep her stable...for now. Ina was still struggling to try and keep herself awake, let alone trying to take in the condition of everyone around her in the truck for the injured.


"Na...Nadia..." breathed Ina deeply, her face still pale with some blood showing at the corner of her lips from having Daisy wiping her nose and mouth of the blood she had already expelled. Her hand reached out to try and connect with the leader as she struggled to keep her stomach from turning.
 
Roan was already in a Sector Ten transport chopper when Donovan's orders made it through the comms. With the way things were going, it was already inevitable that Donovan would make the call. Waiting around for the official orders were a waste of time, and Roan avoided wasting time as much as possible.


Getting the Sector Ten management to agree to his decision was a bit difficult, but he had enough sway to get one chopper and a small armed escort to go to the site. Had Roan been the vindictive sort, he would have found it amusing the moment Donovan's orders came through and Sector Ten having to scramble itself in an attempt to get there in time.


As it was, he merely nodded his head as Donovan's voice erupted from the chopper's communications. As the battle site came into view, he ignored the rather chatty pilot, James if he recalled correctly, he assembled the Intervention sniper rifle by his side. It was a clunky model, far from being the best but it had a magazine that could accommodate the disfiguration that his blood caused in the bullets.


And let slip the dogs of war, he idly thought.
 
The force of Donovan appearing sent out a great burst of air that pushed her back onto her butt in the center of the truck. Her tailbone hit the metal floor with a clank. She lost any grip she had on Loman. All she could do is look up at this stranger, her mouth agape. She'd met a teleporter before, but seeing him here, right in the middle of her truck was shocking. He'd never been in this truck as far as she knew and he had no idea where he'd land... if the path would be clear or his molecules would rebuild right on top of someone or something else. He was either extremely skilled or very reckless. She was guessing the former.


The words he spoke chilled her to the core. She had a lot of repressed memories from her childhood. Losing her father young had left deep scars that her mind tried to heal by blocking out what she didn't want to think about. She'd long ago given up hope that the government hadn't killed him. He'd been taken to root in a spec-prison where mortality rates were extremely high. There was no way he made it out. And yet this man spoke of him like he knew him... And what was this about an escapee? Was he one of the government officials from the prison?


She reached out to grab him, to make him explain himself, but another rush of air hit her as he disappeared. "Wait!" She yelled to the empty space where he and Loman had been. Fuck. She spat under her breath. She sprung into action. She didn't know much about the strange man but his appearance was NOT good news.


She jumped out of the back on the truck and ran back into the middle of the destruction. "Move! Move! Move! She shouted to Eric and his crew coming back to the trucks after their sweep. Everyone was loaded and ready. They just needed to get in. She paced the clearing as they ran past her. To her right, in a pool of melted ice and blood she spotted Darren's jacket and picked it up, enjoying the familiar fabric in her palm. She needed her hands free so she shrugged into it, despite the fact that it swallowed her up and made her look like a child in an adult's clothing. The sleeves were far too long and they refused to stay pushed up around her forearms so she gave up.


She was the last one standing in the dust. With one huff of breath, she turned back to her people and got in the truck's passenger seat.


Somewhere in the back of the vehicle Darren was resting. She sent him a thought, just to be sure. Okay? The one word, sent mind to mind meant so much more than the simple four letters could convey when said aloud. They were laced with tenderness and a fierce bond that had forged over the last few years. She wanted to feel reassured he was still conscious, that she didn't have to worry. She'd left his side because she had to and because it was what he wanted, but it still made her uneasy.


She turned around to see if she could see Darren among the people in the dark interior. Instead she found herself looking down at Ina who had been loaded in directly behind her seat. She reached her hand back and grasped the doctor's hand, giving it a squeeze, and taking some of her pain as well. She closed her eyes as she did, feeling woozy but ignoring it. In the background she could hear Tank fiddling with the keys, trying to get them in the ignition despite the tremors in his hands. He wasn't physically hurt... but she knew she'd have to keep an eye on his aura in the weeks to come. Tank wasn't as impenetrable as people thought.


The trucks started up. She took a long look out the window. Fires simmered. She felt weak and drained. All around her people were hurting, angry, sad, frustrated, scared. It pulled on her; now that the adrenaline was wearing off it started to drag her down. Her body sagged in her seat, utter exhausting taking hold. She let go of Ina's hand. She had nothing left to give.


"I hate to say... I told you so..." She whispered to the injured doctor.
 
Had Roan been anybody else, he'd be insulted.


As it was, he was puzzling out Donovan's latest order, sent directly to the private radio channel only known to Donovan and himself.


Apparently, he was not to make contact with the Resistance and instead found himself telling the pilot, James-something, to head directly for the Oklahoma Military Base. bringing evidence of the Resistance's ambush on their convoy to the higher-ups.


He didn't really care for whatever games Donovan might be playing, but it was pretty illogical to put one of their top assassins on what accounts to a messenger role.


As the helicopter passed by ground zero, Roan glanced down, taking note of the battlefield's status. Apparently, the fighting was mostly wrapped up, with the Resistance trucks already preparing to make their leave.


That would explain why Donovan didn't order backup. The shrewd guy could already sense the end coming and it would have been pointless for more reinforcements to arrive. It would seem that Roan's own haste led to him becoming a glorified messenger.


"You know, those Oklahoma guys are gonna be pissed once they see these pics."





Roan ignored the pilot's attempts at making small talk, preferring to think about Donovan's plotting. Whatever the guy was planning was probably big, considering he passed up the chance to mess with a major Resistance operation in favor for rescuing a hostage and an attempt to make the local Oklahoma military want to have some payback on the Resistance.


After several minutes of pondering, Roan begun to disassemble his prepped sniper rifle. Whatever Donovan had in mind wasn't Roan's business. All he had to do for now was look pretty and play nice with the military rank and file.


Had Roan been someone else, he would have shuddered.
 
Just before the entire team was to set off on the road to head back to their headquarters, the stranger came with a burst of wind into the back of the truck. Ina grunted at the force behind the puff of air that spread across the flatbed. Recovering from the small scare, Ina opened her eyes to see a weak outline of a purple silhouette. A man...an older man from what Ina could gather from the initial observations and just as quickly as he came, he disappeared with Loman in the blink of an eye. Teleportation? Who the hell was this man?


But her heart stopped when she saw Nadia starting to race off towards the battleground again. "Nadia...wa...wait..." she called weakly, groaning to her stomach turning at the cry to try and capture the boss's attention before she dashed out of the truck. The fear left her as her friend finally came back into the truck in the passenger seat, feeling Tank sit in the driver's seat as he struggled to try and get the key into the ignition. She felt a wave of relief fill her as Nadia took away some of the pain in her body, sighing deeply as she closed her eyes to take in the sensation, squeezing Nadia's hand back as best as she could, her fingers trembling. Feeling Nadia's hand let go of her own, Ina breathed slowly as she smiled a little towards Nadia's whisper, shaking her head.


"You don't...hate it," whispered Ina back with a smile to try and make Nadia feel a little better. "Tell me...when we get back home..." Glancing towards the impenetrable Tank, Ina raised the hand she used to hold Nadia's and touched his shoulder, her muscles twitching under her skin from the exhaustion. "You did...good, Tank. Take us home...and we can...we can talk la-" started Ina before she felt all energy leave her body, like it decided to shut down as her hand dropped from Tank's shoulder and she laid motionless in her bed, a little blood dripping from her nose again.
 
Each truck revved with life, their engines rumbling under the tense air as they began their journey back home. Daisy and any other available medic checked over each prisoner one by one by placing bandages over raw wrists or providing them with fresh water. Daisy was lucky to have another helping hand within her truck so that she could focus on the more critical patience. How to handle Ina was a complete mystery to her. Self-inflicted injuries of her nature were something the former EMT never experience, and she wasn't exactly sure how to treat it. The other three patients were easy for her. Two teenagers and Darren, and all they had were basic bullet wounds. The two teenage girls were unresponsive, likely due to blood loss, but she was able to stabilize them for the time being.


Darren fought sleep out of fear of never waking up. The truck shook from side to side with any bump in the road making it easier for him to stay awake. He heard Nadia's thought long before the truck even started, but he struggled to focus on her mind alone. The morphine dulled his telepathy and caused him to feel drowsy. He nearly forgot to respond to Nadia.


"I'm okay," he said quietly to her. He wanted to respond to her mentally, but just couldn't manage it. Darren didn't like the way morphine worked, which was likely a good thing for him in that he would not develop an addiction to the drug. "How are you holding up?" Nadia's expression only just registered as something was wrong as she slumped in her seat, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed his jacket consuming her small frame. "You got my jacket."
 
Thomas’ pessimistic thought was soon interrupted by the hearing of someone calling out to someone. But it didn’t feel like it was coming from around, it felt like it came from inside his head. Was he going crazy? Was his power doing that? What else would his power do to him before he went crazy? He did not want that to happen! These thoughts ran through his mind for a few minutes before he could hear someone calling for him in the distance. Was his brain still playing tricks on him? Thomas knew it was real only when he had a gun pointed at his head. “Oh no, not again, how can I have such bad luck?” From the corner of his eyes, he saw a girl he had seen before, the one who helped the government prisoners. She was by no mean any good. He tried to speak when she asked rudely who he was but like the last time Thomas had a gun pointed to his head, which was only minutes ago, he could not talk.


As he imagined the worse, a guy arrived next to him and managed to get the blonde to lower her gun by telling what Thomas had done. It was the worst case scenario: someone had witnessed his actions, someone had seen him use his power. Worse of all, he thought he was one them! Never would he agree to be “one of them”. He was not like them, he would never be. Maybe he had some sort of power, but he did not use them to do bad things such as trying to start a war against the government like they just did. Thomas was doing the right thing, which was not to use his power. At least he would not use them from now on. This was a one time only accident.


He listened to the man as he started to speak. Back up? Oh no, I don’t want another confrontation, my heart won’t take it. But it appeared it wasn’t what was going to happen, they would flee and she invited him to come with them. Thomas’ initial thought was a categorical no, but she had an irrefutable point, he did not want to be stuck with military men. They would take him for a spec, just like the one he killed did. What surprised him the most is that she thanked him for killing a man. You don’t compliment someone who just killed. Why did it bother him anyways? They were all crazy and he was going with them. What a great plan, he thought sarcastically.


Thomas stood there until he heard they were doing the last sweep. He had a hard time accepting his decision. He ran to the truck he saw people –no, not people, specs- get into and saw the same girl he had seen too many time for him rush out. He did not know why, but he did not want to know either. He took an empty seat. Everyone was staring where he was seated, was he that bad looking, well he would never look as bad as they looked right now. It seemed they hadn’t showered in weeks, they stank. It was only then he realized he was still shirtless. Fortunately, his t-shirt was still hanging from his shorts, so he put it back on. They were still staring. He knew he didn’t look good right now, but they could at least be polite and not stare at him like he was a circus freak. He did not want to create any waves by (rudely) telling them not to stare that he looked down the whole ride.


The journey back was very unpleasant: they were crowded, the road wasn’t flat at all so they sometimes jumped from their seat, it was hot, it stank and he felt sick and tired. He only hoped his phone would get some network or wi-fi so that he could call a cab or, worst case scenario, call his dad and make up some excuses to why he was where he would be. Thomas hated the fact he didn’t know where he was going, but he hoped he would be better there than in the battleground.
 
Finished Thread This main thread is now complete. Thank you all for participating! Keep your eye out for our next group thread, Operation Boom-Boom, set at Resistance HQ, July 4th!
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 3 (members: 0, guests: 3)

Similar threads

Sora No Kami
A vicious dance with death (RP 1x1 based on the song "My R") TW: Self-loathing, Suicune
Replies
1
Views
94
Sora No Kami
Sora No Kami
Back
Top