Built Texas Tough

Warm  sunlight  filters  through  the  smashed  out  boards  covering  the  windows  of  Mundy’s  sniper  blind;  it  makes  the  shadowy  cubby  that  he’s  folded  himself  into  a  little  more  bearable.  With  his  hat  covering  an  exhausted  and  slightly  sunburnt  face,  he  tries  to  catch  a  few  relaxed  moments  before  the  chaos  starts  again.  It’s  only  when  somebody  bangs  open  the  trapdoor  into  the  room  that  his  heart  leaps  into  the  Australian’s  throat,  and  his  kukri  is  in  his  hand.

❛  For  christ  sake,  hard  hat!  Think  you  could  make  more  noise?  I  don’t  want  anybody  knowin’  I’m  up  here.  ❛  Then  he  squints  at  her  through  the  tint  of  his  glasses.

         The enemy pyro was prowling around down there, somewhere, and instinctively after seeing them airblast the rockets back at her sentry to dispose of it and the viscous display of scout burning to death as he screamed in agony, the Texan decided to cut her losses and abandon the remainder of her buildings and find the closest place to hide until they were gone.

        No other enemy could quite send fear into the hearts of their enemies like that Pyro-- Danielle would have normally fished her shotgun out and tried gunning them down had they been any other class, like Spy or even Heavy. But she’d been fully engulfed in flames before, and that was an experience she’d never forget.

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒   𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒      𝐆𝐎𝐓      𝐇𝐈𝐒      𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.      Probably   there’s   nothing   more   effective   at   achieving   just   that   than   physically   grabbing   a   man.      Nevertheless,      the   Soldier’s   bent   down   to   the   Engineer’s   height,      his   back   curved   while   she   grips   his   broad   chin   in   her   hand,      all   rough   glove   against   rough   skin.      She   could   order   him   to   do   just   about   anything   right   about   now,      &      he’d   probably   forget   that   she   doesn’t   outrank   him.      Of   course,      her   mind's      likely   more   on   that   rocket   launcher   he’s   still   holding   than   on   what   she   can   make   him   do.

❝   Engie   ?   ❞

【🔧】— The engineer’s hands (or hand, rather) was a conundrum. Strong and calloused, but at the same time, delicate and ladylike. When she wanted to be threatening, she used her prosthetic fist of cold, hard, metal, but when she wanted to be persuasive, charismatic, almost, she used her left hand, her human, feminine touch.

      “Would ya’ be a dear n’ go tell that new Engineer that he needs t’ build his dispenser so he’ll quit comin’ over her t’ take materials from mine? He don’t seem t’ be takin’ any ‘a my advice n’ I think he’d do better if another man told ‘im what t’ do instead a me.”

                                 ❝   Well,      if   you   need   a   shoulder   t’   lean   on,      mine’s   available.      What   with   you   bein’   tired   .   .   .      unless   you   mean   that   figuratively,      that   is.      But   you   could   still   lean   on   me.   ❞

【🔧】— The Engineer had been working overtime per the Administrator’s orders and it showed. Trying to crack the code on how the robots worked, how to possibly reprogram them or find a way to deactivate the whole bunker on wheels of them. Just studying the remains of them wasn’t enough, she needed one intact and still operational. 

       She’d been working with Demoman on an EMP grenade that would possibly allow them to capture some robots intact so that she could experiment, but she was beginning to think the development would take more time than it was worth. Spy’s sapper was also a no-go, as the robot’s circuitry would simply fry up from the inside, as she was very well aware when having to deal with sappers herself.

       Without a word, Danielle took Jane up on the offer, and pressed her tense forehead to his chest, then closed her eyes and fell asleep for a moment. It only lasted long enough for one to realize she had actually fallen asleep before the egg timer on her work benched dinged, jolting herself back awake with a startled and confused look.

“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!”

“Stop keeping your phone in silent, you got me worried!”

“Blood? Are you bleeding?”

“I don’t like the idea of you walking down the streets all alone.”

“I thought I would never see you again…”

“We should get you to hospital.”

“Where did all those bruises came from?”

“I have the right to be worried!”

“Have you been drinking? You look terrible.”

“Sleep at my place tonight.”

“I don’t feel safe letting you be alone when you’re in that shape.”

“Please talk to me about it.”

“Let me take care of you.”

“You need to rest now. Don’t move.”

“How many times have I told you to not go there?”

“You could’ve died, you know…”

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help, I’ll do it anyways.”

“You really need to stop drinking. I’m serious.”

“This time you got yourself into a hospital. I think that’s a sign.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You need to stop doing stupid shit like that or you will get yourself killed.”

“I’m your friend, of course I care!”

“You know I’m always here for you, right?”

“You’re not okay.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“Let me clean your wounds…”

Send me “Don’t chase the rabbit” and your muse will be shown a random memory from my muse’s past.

     Beyond, in a clearing overlooking the river, Dell and the governor’s son came upon a boy and a girl playing at knights. Their swords were wooden sticks, broom handles from the look of them, and they were rushing across the grass, swinging at each other lustily. The boy was years older, a head taller, and much stronger, and he was pressing the attack. The girl, a scrawny thing in muddy overalls, was dodging and managing to get her stick in the way of most of the boy’s blows, but not all. When she tried to lunge at him, he caught her stick with his own, swept it aside, and slid his broom handle down hard on her fingers. She cried out and dropped her weapon.

      The governor’s son laughed. The boy looked around, wide-eyed and startled, and dropped his stick in the grass. The girl glared at them, sucking on her knuckles to take the sting out, when Dell approached.

       “Dani?” He called out incredulously.

      “Go away,” Danielle shouted back at them, “What are you doing here? Leave us alone.”

      The governor’s son glanced from Danielle to Dell and back again. “Your sister?” The older brother nodded in response, slightly embarrassed. The other boy examined Dani’s friend, an ungainly lad with dark skin and coarse jet black hair.  “And who are you supposed to be?” He asked in a commanding tone that took no notice of the fact that the other was a year his senior.

      “Tobias,” the boy muttered. He recognized the younger boy from the campaign stage at the park while the governor was giving his speech. 

       “He babysits Dani sometimes,” Dell said.

        “He’s my friend,” Danielle said sharply. “You leave him alone.”

         “Want to be a sword fighter, do you?” The son of the aristocrat stepped forward, taking a pocket knife out and flicking it open. “Pick up your sword, boy,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “Let us see how good you are.”

        Tobias stood there, frozen like a statue. The younger boy walked toward him. “Go on, pick it up. Or do you only fight little girls?”

       Tobias said nothing, and only glared at the younger boy in contempt.

       The governor’s son neared, lifted his pocket knife, and laid its point on Tobias’s cheek below the eye, a bright bud of blood blossomed where his knife pressed into Tobias’s flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy’s cheek.

        “Hey now, that’s uncalled for!” Dell said, “put your knife away and let’s all just–” But Dell was too slow. Danielle went for him.

       She swung her broomstick with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the boy’s head, and then everything happened at once before anyone knew what was happening. The aristocrat’s son staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Tobias ran out of the park as fast as his legs would take him. Dani swung at the boy again, but this time he caught the blow with his hand and snapped the stick in two. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire. 

      Dell stepped back, knowing already that there wasn’t much he could do to stop his nine year old sister from unleashing hell upon her target. Danielle scooped up a rock and hurled it at the boy, but missed his head and hit his arm. Her oppenent stood up and slashed at her with his knife, screaming obscenities. Danielle jumped back, frightened now, but the boy followed, hounding her toward the woods, backing her up against the tree.

       The older brother had seen enough, and ran over to the mess of a fight before launching his fist into his new friend’s jaw. The knife fell from his fingers as Dell put his whole body into the punch and knocked them both off their feet, and they rolled in the grass as Dell continued to hit him, the other boy shrieking in pain. “GET OFF,” he screamed. “GET OFF!”

     Dell let go of the boy and moved to Dani’s side. The child lay in the grass, whimpering, cradling his jaw. His blonde hair was soaked in blood. The girl picked up the knife where it had fallen, and stood over him, holding the weapon with both hands.

      The Governor’s son made a scared whimpery sound as he looked up at her. “No, don’t hurt me. I’ll tell my father.”

        Danielle whirled and heaved the knife into the air, putting her whole body into the throw. The steel of the blade flashed in the sun as the knife spun out over the river. It hit the water and vanished with a splash. After the ripples died down, the younger sister ran off into the field and out of the park. 

【🔧】— You could tell she was fighting, struggling to keep herself holding on, but a strong will to live could only take you so far when your body was broken and bleeding from the inside out. Though the pain and discomfort was starting to fade, in her last moments; pituitary gland going into overdrive, flushing the body with endorphins now that it had run out of adrenaline, its last ditch effort to try and keep the body stable.

      The moments drew on longer and longer, and it was clear at this point that what the Engineer said was true… Medic wasn’t going to come, not until it was too late. The siren of a bomb approaching the hatch to their base was heard, but then stopped, indicating that one of their team mates had staved off its destruction. The others could use Soldier’s help, and Danielle wasn’t going to be able to stick around much longer.

        Her ungloved hand struggled to reach up and cupped Jane’s cheek, smearing blood on his face, but surprisingly affectionate, especially for Dani. Her face nuzzled a bit into his chest, body starting to seize up as the nervous system began to shut down.

     She felt like she needed to say *something* to him before she went. He had tried his best, after all. And in a way, they were sort of lucky. It was rare in situations like this for a proper goodbye. Death on the battlefield was usually instant, and often gruesome in ways that one wouldn’t even be able to have an open casket funeral. She wished she could have said good bye to her brother, too; something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry for holding so much resentment against you and your success;’ but it looked like that just wasn’t in the cards of her fate.

       “Yer… a good sarge, y’know that?” That was the last thing that passed her lips before bubbles of blood gurgled and flooded her mouth, and, with grey eyes still looking onto the Soldier, started to become glassy and unfocused as they dilated.

        The Engineer was dead.

                              This   was   supposed   to   be   the   part   where   he   screamed   to   the   heavens.      Where   he   collapsed   to   his   knees.      Where   he   ran   into   the   enemy   ranks   like   a   lone   berserker,      blinded   by   a   blood   rage   as   he   single   —   handedly   chopped   down   every   last   one   of   the   advancing   robots   into   scrap   metal      &      so   much   bolts.      Where,      ultimately,      he   would   fight   like   a   man   with   nothing   left   to   lose      &      then   he   would   vanish,      all   in   Danielle’s   name.      Touched   by   her   words   ;         motivated   by   her   sacrifice.

                                       But   he   did   none   of   these   things.

                                       He   held   her   tight.      He   stared   at   her   face.      Tried   to   wrap   his   mind   around   it.      Reeling.      He   was   cold   all   over.      It   was   a   chill   that   burned   harshly   in   his   tight   throat,      in   his   shadowed   eyes.         Jane   didn’t   notice   how   bad   he   was   shaking.      He   wasn’t   good   with   emotions.      He   had   never   been   good   with   emotions.      He’d   often   been   told   he   was   too   cheerful,      but   .   .   .

                                       Oh   .   .   .   it   was   raining.      Little   drops   were   landing   on   her   face,      collecting,      dripping   down.      Glistening   on   her   paled   skin.      Mingling   with   the   blood.      Funny,      though   ;         there   wasn’t   a   single   cloud   in   the   sky.

                                       ❝   &      you’re   as   fine   a   man   as   I’ve   ever   served   with,      Engie.   ❞            

“ didn’t realize you had it in you. “ “ what? “ “ to care for another person. “ for Medic (つ ͡ꈍ ͜ʖ̫ ͡ꈍ )  ♞  @tcxastough 

       In a way, she was right, as it seemed that most of his work in healing more or less involved experimenting on people and seeing what would happen, among other, more gruesome examples. It caused Danielle to believe that, were it to benefit him, he would throw any and/or all of them under a bus just to achieve what he wanted.

       But over the years, she’d catch glimpses of another side of him, a more caring side, a softer side, like right now.... but was it a genuine sense of affection, or some twisted sense of trying to manipulate her? The question was rising moreso now, with his reluctance to share his real thoughts on anything in the moment. 

She rolled over to her belly,  and gently took her hand away to put it to her brow, using both arms to prop herself up on the pillow, facing the bedpost to stare idly. 

         “Medic... I’m grateful fer everythin’ you do, really, I am...” She trailed off.  But don’t pretend this thing we’ve got going on, this feeling you have, is anything more than you just wanting to sleep with me, she finished her thought silently, and instead, finished her sentence verbally with: