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xiii-e · 8 days ago

Text

Becoming Sand.

// loading echo.exe ... //... //... // now running echo.exe. // now running extension_██████████ // begin account: XIII-E deployment_state of consciousness.

…the Dawnline. Of course. No info on where exactly but-

They didn’t have to know. XIII-E wasn’t there for the fight, they were there for the people caught up in it; there to keep people from dying. If they had to take up arms, something had gone horribly wrong.

The fact something always went wrong lingered █████████████ in the back of their mind, much like the weight pressed into the small of their back. When you carried a weapon, you accepted you may have to hurt someone. To protect yourself. To protect the people in your care.

Well. They were good at that too, weren’t they? Designed to break things, if they must. Slowly, XIII-E watched their hand flex, sinew moving beneath flesh, beneath gloves, beneath padding and armor. If needed, they could tear through metal to access the injured. It wasn't hard to imagine what they could do to bone if their orders changed.

Only if I must. The primary directive is always repairs.

It was hard to keep their head on straight with everything happening somewhere in the ether, somewhere beyond their reach, touched by the ephemeral digital presence they'd been permited. So much learned in such a short time ███ ██ ████ ████ ██ ████ █████ ████ █████ ██████ ██ ████ ██ █████ ████ ████ █████ ██████ ██████ ██ ████████ ████ ███████ ██ █████ ██ ██ ██████ ██████████ ███████████ █████ ██ █████████ ████████ ████ ███████ ██ █████ ██ ██ ███████ ████ █████ ██████ ███████ ████████ ████████ there was a lot more on their mind these days. Perhaps this was exactly why they had been discouraged from forming social bonds on the field?

Focus- who were they deployed with this time?

Grant, Jane. Pierre, Liam. Mark--

Names. These were just names, and this wasn't helping. Slowly their lungs filled, then emptied, and instead they looked around. They needed something to do, needed to attend to the work. They knew this unrest. They knew what would set them to rights again.

Follow the directive. Do as you were made to.

Where had they just been, again? ██ ██████ ████ ██████████ ███ ████ ██ ████ ████ █████ ████ They had been... deployed, they'd been deployed with the squadron assigned as their accompaniment. They'd done good work; at least 5 of the injured were stabilised by their hand, a good number more tended to over the course of the conflict. Why did they feel so ill at ease then? They'd done well. Done what they were meant to.

Focus. Look around again, try to see what wasn't right. Eyes flicked to the side, swept across their field of view- nothing immediately out of place. Camp was the way it always was after a fight, chaotic, ever moving. People rushed here and to, paying them no- no, no that wasn't right, that was what pricked at them. Ordinarily XIII-E was a part of the scenery in the aftermath of combat, as the dead and wounded were tallied. But people, soldiers, were looking past them, then at them like something about them caught on their periphery, snagged at their eyes. What was it? What was wrong?

Breath in, breath out. Something felt cold against their shoulder, seeping through the fabric, catching the chill of the wind-

Ah. Right, yes. The dull ache at the edge of their protective shoulderplates, the rip through their medics jacket- they were bleeding.

Or, had been? The stain was still wet but, their wounds closed fast unless severe. It was probably an obvious stain though, the white fabric that shrouded them in the guise of a healer stark in contrast with the red. ████ ██████ ████ ███ ████ ██ █████ ██ ████ ████ █ ████████ ████ ██████ ████ █████████ ██████ It was a minor injury, not worth the fussing. Certainly not across their skin. They could barely feel the break in flesh as they rolled their shoulder, ███████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ███ ███████ ████ █ █████ ████ █ █████ █████████ ██ ███ ████ ████ ███ ██████ █████ ███ it wasn't important.

They should go to the infirmary regardless. It was where they could do the most good, anyway. Always more work to be done, never enough hands. Never enough supplies. Never enough of anything really.

Problems to be solved. That was why they were made, right?

▵▿▵▿▵

Iron choked out the air in the medical ward. Iron and smoke and the tang of acid, as it always was. ████ █████████ ██ ███████████ ████ █████████ ██ ████ ████ ███████ ████ ██ █████ ██ ███ ████████ ████ ██████ ████ █ ██████ ██ ███ ███████ █████ ██ █████ █████ ██ █████ White coats just like their fluttered here and there searching for what they needed, tools, medicine-

"Fucking damnit when is that next supply drop getting here? We don't have nearly enough of the O negative for-" Frustration, fear. XIII-E's head snapped to the source, a harried looking woman with hair falling out of its tie, eyebags deeper that her voice. Ardence, Martha; senior medical staff. Eyes had snapped to them as well, once their presence was noted, flicked to the stain blooming over their shoulder. They should speak. Before she got the chance to fuss.

"Project XIII-E field medical personnel. What can I do?" From the stain to their face, searching for something, hesitation then- a flick of the head, a beckoning.

"If you want to help, we've got people bleeding out. Bastard bloody shrapnel bomb went off, shredded a number of good people-" Something was catching on their mind, snagging at their thoughts.

"Supplies. You were talking about supplies ma'am. What are we low on?"

The frustration on Ardence's breath as a short, sharp sigh passed her lips was palpable. Never enough, never enough supplies for the injured, the dying. Never enough to feed the endless churn. But this one, if they were right? They might be able to fix.

"Well it's a long list Project but, blood is the choke point here. We've got soldiers who won't last the night even if their wounds close, because of their blood loss. But I can't fix the deficit-"

"I can help. We can." A blink, a beat of silence. They continued.

"Ma'am, a part of my gene profile was ensuring I'm a viable universal blood donor- for situations exactly like this. My recovery period is shortened, and I am able to provide 3 liters on average without adverse effects on my function. It won't save everyone, but it's something."

More silence, and now the restlessness was creeping back in. There was hesitation on her face. They needed to push.

"It is what I'm designed for, ma'am. The one for the many."

"Yes, yes I understand that but- you've already been injured. Is this safe, Thirteen?"

"It's sorely needed, ma'am. Another attack isn't predicted for a good while yet, I'll have recovered by next deployment. We need to move, now."

They were already twisting loose the fastenings on their jacket, shrugging off the fabric, loosing the gauntlets and gloves of their sleeve. Keep moving. Leave no room for uncertainty. They were there to be used, to save people. Ardence's nail dug into the palm of her hand briefly, pressing white crescents into ruddy skin, before a sharp nod.

"Alright. Give me what you can."

▵▿▵▿▵

Things had gone wrong. ██ ███████ ██████ ████ ████

Their arm still stung gently where the needle had lanced beneath their skin, only minutes ago- 3 liters pulled from the body they inhabited, to go to people who needed it more. Good. That was good. █ █████████ ██ ████ ██████ ██ █████ ████ ████ ███ █████ █████ █████ ██████████ ███████ ███ █████ ██████████ ██ ██████ ██ ████ ████ ██ ████ █████ ██ ███████ ████ ████ ████ ██████ ██ ██ ████ ████ ███ ██████ ███████ ██ ███ ███ Ardence had just been giving them further orders when a crash rang out, a blaring siren following. Their comm implants had buzzed ████ █████ ██ ████ █████ ██ ████ █████ ███ ██ ██████ with grave news; a resumption of hostilities, early, far too early. Small force, few in number but plenty of damage done, there were already injured on the field-

They were needed. There was work to be done.

Startled protests blurred into the drone of noise as their focus narrowed, as armor and fastenings clicked back into place, as they slung the heavy cylinder back to its place against the small of their back and started running. They knew where they had to be. Upon call to action, report to the current head of their squadron; they'd done it countless times, would do it countless more.

Count heads. Load into transport, as someone barked the field report in short, sharp words that hammered through their skull.

Focus. Focus. They needed eyes in the present, for the fight to come.

Barely aware of their squadron at this point, the second the crashing of metal against metal rang in their ears like a herald on the horizon they were moving- the second the transport stopped, they were gone. There was iron heavy in the air █████ ██ ███████ ████ ████ and that meant they had work to do.

Find the injured. Tend the wounded. Let nothing stand in their path. They'd done this before. They'd do it again.

Focus.

Blood in the dirt, thickened into mud amidst rubble and dust. There. That was where they needed to be.

Anaysis, field analysis. Take a breath, look around, see where you are. Half-ruined buildings of stone and metal alike, overgrown with the native foliage in a muted green, the remains of urban growth from before the fighting crawled forward maybe- It wasn't important to know why. Knowing that rubble stood in their path mattered more-

Pained noise, human. 2 o'clock; their back straightened, head craning to try and find the source. Visibiity blocked by a wall still half-standing, blocked by metallic remains of a long-finished fight. Their squadron had caught up to their mad dash, slowly sweeping the area, hands on their rifles as they dispersed like oil through water- their hand found the small of their back, the weight shifting. All it took was a button press to arm themself.

Observe safety guidelines. Call out. State intended actions before attempting to breach. Perform as trained.

"Hello in there! Project XIII-E present in the field. Are you hurt?" Calm, neutrally pleasent but authoritative. Trusthworthy. Listen to me, call out to me, let me know where you are. Their accompaniment didn't react to them, letting them work. They knew what they were doing. They were made for this.

Quiet for a moment, two. Another shuddering groad that caught, grew, became a voice. "...Trapped. There's- there's rubble pinning my leg. I can't-I can't feel it."

Likely break, it would have to be set and bound before the patient would be ready to move. They had no confirmation what side of the fight this man was on, but it didn't matter, couldn't matter until whoever this was had been extracted and cared for. Their directive was repairs. Worry about the possible threat once they knew he was safe.

"I'm gonna get you out of there sir, alright? Stay with me. Keep talking. You have a name Soldier?" Loud and clear and calm, keep him calm, keep him focussed on them and not the pain. Can't fix anything until they get in. Their grip on the long handle weighing into their palms shifts with their weight, readying to clear their way.

"M-Mathews, sir. Legionnaire Math-" a hiss of pain, a breaking in the voice. "Legionnaire Mathews."

Judge the lay of the wall, where they could afford for rubble to fall. They swung back.

"Breaching."

An echoing of reinforced material smashing through rebar and stone, smashing down into the ground with the echo of a shout from the trapped man. Their maul (breaching hammer, really. Maul was shorter though) carrying its weight through to a stop, before the downswing, hitting the dirt with a dull metal thud as their body moved before their mind.

The way was clear. Get to the patient. Do your job.

▵▿▵▿▵

The blurring again. Think. Focus. How many had they seen to, in the past-

... the time didn't matter. ████ ████ ████████ █████ ███████ ██ ███ █████ ██ █████ ████ ████ ████████ █████████ █████ ██ █████ ███ ██████ ██ ████████ ██ ██████ ████ ███████ █ ███████ ████ ████ ███ ████████ ██ █████ ████ ████ ███ █████ ███████ ███ ████████ Focus. It was vital they keep a clear mind so they could do their work. People were depending on them. Lives were-

Think back. The trapped leg, set. He was being minded by one of their greener squadmates until he could be extracted. The abdominal wound. Shrapnel extracted, wound closed, patch applied along with bandaging. Accompanying them now. The- the other abdominal wound. Also shrapnel. Also removed, patched bound. Left though. Wanted to find their own squad. The-

This wasn't helping, it wasn't helping they needed to think. They needed to clear their mind. Where had the crashing pain come from? Why did their chest feel so heavy? Why couldn't they-

[Noise. Crashing and breaking and something moving fast, too fast toward them- why was their mind moving so slowly. Why couldn't they move faster. They didn't see the dark glint of reinforced chrome until it was a blistering flash across their vision, propelled into someone just out of their reach. Didn't see the danger until it was driving the body of someone under their care through the unyielding stone and rubble, until flesh gave way to sheer force and split apart and bones broke, until screams were ringing in their ears and blood soaked everything in red, red, red-]

-goddamn think?

...fuck. Fuck. Move-

There wasn't time for explination as their body broke into a sprint, as they heard the echo of a distant crash moving closer, closer. Carpenter, the soldier they'd seen that'd been Carpenter- Their shoulder crashed into his body to confused shouting, a clamouring din that they didn't have time to untangle as Carpenter went flying, in the dirt, but safe. Safe.

Before anyone could ask, the dark chrome was barreling into them.

Every gasp of breath was torn out of their lungs at the sheer force of the crush, stone digging into them even through their armor, hell they'd have a hell of a bruise after this ████ █████ ██ but there was no spray of blood, no snapping of bone beyond the cracking of what might've been a rib- they'd live. They'd live.

Humans were fragile, in ways they were not.

Perhaps that was why the bastard in the mechanised hardsuit grabbed them by the jacket when they saw them still moving, and hurled them bodily through the wall they'd just been crushed against. The sudden influx of sheer pain blinded them like smoke behind the eyes for the eternity of a second, crashing through a haze of rubble and stonedust and a sudden dark that fell around their head like a heavy drape. Suffocating. They barely felt it when they hit the second wall but it seared when they fell to the ground, a jolt through everything they might have fractured or broken in their short flight as they hit dirt, crumpled on the floor with the rest of the scrap.

fuckkkksake...

▵▿▵▿▵

... it was loud.

Everything hurt, and it was loud.

The... the fighting, there was still fighting going on. Crashing, shouting, gunfire and the clanging ring of metal-on-metal god it was a bloody cacophony; XIII-E's head raised slowly through the swimming agony as they pried their grit-filled eyes open, staring out into the chaos.

Nothing ever went fucking right, did it?

Two down, status unknown but they weren't moving. At least three of the squad had taken up defensive positions, intermittent ducks out of cover to rattle off fire against the armored hostile who they could finally get a good look at (well, as good a look as they could manage through the grit and- whatever that sting was) For a brief second their heart was in their throat, but- not a Caliban. Thank fuck, not a Caliban. Just- just some kind of enhanced heavy-armor hardsuit.

...still not anything to brush off though. The shuddering agony in their chest reminded them of that pretty sharply.

Sitrep. Analyse the damage. A hand pressed into their ribs confirmed there was definitely something either fractured or broken in there; a little more poking and they were 80% sure it was a fracture. No risk of puncture. Good. Then they could move.

Staggering to their feet was a slow ordeal, but their weight held even if their head swam. Even if they stumbled. ████ █████ ██████ ████ ████ ██████ ███████ ████ ███ ████ ███ ██ ██████ ████did they get so tired? When-No, stop that. Crush it down. We rest when the work is done.

The work is never done.

Then we keep moving.

They couldn't fill their lungs without the breath catching on their pain, but that was fine. A low purr filled their chest instead. Leave no room for the hurting, put it out of their mind; pick up their weapon. One foot in front of the other.

The handle of their maul was frigid against their bare fingers, but that was good. That was useful. An anchor through the haze.

Get that fucking bastard away from our people. Remove the hostile. Keep them safe.

Their body moved before their mind did.

Someone tried to yell them down as they broke into a run, tried to reach for them but-- they wouldn't be stopped now. Keep moving. Their weight crashed into the black-chrome shadow trying to carve through scrap metal and it turned, it faltered- oh it shouldn't have given them that opening.

Absently, they felt a dull ache through their shoulder. It didn't matter though. The blunt side of their maul had already connected, full force with the fuckers knees.

Shattering metal sounded like snow, sometimes. Did you know that? Not often, but sometimes. It was the little details.

The flat of their maul came down again, blotting out another dull ache. Thigh this time. They'd just broken his, with a cruch.

Shouting. What was anyone shouting? They couldn't tell. It was all just, noise and shapes. Except for the man in the heavy armor on the floor beneath them now, howling in pain. The man curling in on himself as much as the twisted metal would let him. They could fix this, maybe... if he would let them. If he surrendered. There was a difference, between an opponent and a hostile...

His fingers twitched, as they saw eyes staring at them through tinted glass. They could smell smoke, from somewhere. They could taste iron.

Jerkily, his arm levelled at them, trying to line up a shot-

The flat of their maul came crashing down once more.

██████████ █████ █████ ██████ █████ █████ ██████ ███████████ █████ ████████ █████ ██████ █████████ ███ ███████ ███████ █████ ████ ████ █ ███████ ███████ █████ ███ █████ ██████████ █████ █████ ███████ █████ ██████ ███████ █████ ██████

...

Hostile removed. Attend to squadron.

▵▿▵▿▵

The aftermath was a blur. They were... fairly sure they had been yelled at? The worried, frantic kind of yelling. It had died when they'd given a sitrep. Calm, composed. Clear voice. Don't betray the pain. They could deal with it once the situation was stable.

The return to base was a blur. It was quiet... they thought it was quiet. Maybe they just hadn't heard anything clearly. Maybe it really was quiet, with the shock of it all. No deaths in their squadron at least, it had turned out. Thank fuck for small mercies.

Camp was... camp was a blur too. Faces like poor signal on an old holoscreen, just shapes and colours- smile along, nod and salute and follow the script. Autopilot. God their fucking head hurt.

They needed... they needed a drink of water maybe. Their mouth tasted like iron, their tongue too dry to swallow as it ran over the dull points of their teeth in absent minded consideration. Why was their mouth so dry? It shouldn't have been.

They shouldn't have been so light headed either. ███ ███ ██████ ███ ████ ██ ██████ ██████ ██████ ███ ████ ███ ████ ███ ██████ ██████ ██ █████ ███ ████ █ ████ ████ █████ ███ █████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ █████ ██████████

... they didn't want to do this in front of the squadron. It wasn't hard to find some excuse, claim to be headed for the infirmary (for work, of course. They were fine. They were fine) and duck behind a supply hold instead. They just needed to catch their breath. Steady themself.

They'd be fine. It'd been calculated risk.

... their clothing was sitting strangely against their skin, though. Slowly they brushed (cold, oddly cold) fingers over the fabric, tracing it down where it clung to layers underneath, where it clung to itself in ways that seemed... odd.

Thinking was difficult. Why was thinking difficult?

They put their back to a wall with a stifled whine, and sank down to the floor as the purr in their chest rose again. Keep the pain at bay. Try to rationalise. What was the problem? What was wrong?

Was their hand shaking?

Their arm felt so stiff as they raised it to eye level, blearly blinking through the shifting haze of... colours, colours and shapes.

... that was a lot of red.

There was shouting again. Someone at their shoulder (when did they get there) shaking them, fuck that hurt- they opened their mouth to say as such but, nothing came out. Nothing but a strangled gasp.

It was... really cold, actually.

Someone was trying to pull them to their feet, trying and failing. They couldn't get their legs underneath them. They couldn't.... couldn't...

ah hell. Overdid it.

The dark closed in like an old friend, and then-

then it was quiet.

--- [TEXT FORWARD FROM: ADMIN]

ADMIN ID:XIII-E logged as damaged beyond acceptable perameters during current deployment. Status: stabalised, but inopperable. Project XIII-E to be returned to base for repair period. Handler ID: Helios-8 still under workplace review. Handler ID: Helios-8 should nontheless be prepared to accept maintanance responsibilities immediately post approval by overseeing admin. End Communication. ---

#echo.exe #turtleshell.dox #lancer rp #//ooc -> T-E is having a Bad deployment overall. will mean they're back soon though #anyways ohhh my god this was written in a Haze apologies if it's a little incoherrent. in my defense T-E is NOT in a good headspace rn #nowww this is a fairly cw heavy piece of fic so lets see.#cw death #cw blood #cw injury #cw needles #okay I thiiink that's all the relevent ones. lmk if there's any I missed o7

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