Gun, by mudg3t
Title - Gun
Author - mudg3t
Word count - 6, 857
Rating - M
Summary - The Planeteers have faced eco-disasters and danger countless times. But what happens when they are pushed to the edge and forced to do the unthinkable?
Warnings (if any) - Extreme language and violence.
Author's note - 100-situations. Oh man, I have been working in this for almost 2 years! It is probably the longest one-shot I have ever written. It just kept on going. I think it's also the most research I've done for a fic - I've tried to portray it as realistic as possible, and omg by the end, the stuff I had to trawl through D: Anyway, a HUGE thanks for ozqueen, frankiealton and plunderer01 for their ceaseless beta skills and cheer-leading <3 forever! So, this is a much darker and more serious take on the CP world, and it's what happens when I watch too many heavy movies. So much potential for darkfic in this fandom.
Prompt: Gun
He stared down at the wounded guard lying semi-lucid in the dirt bleeding and groaning.
He could feel the hot press of the muzzle against his cheek and his hand was sweating and shaking around the grip of the pistol.
“Do it!”
He flinched against the gruff bark and the jab of the gun against his face.
He squeezed his eyes closed, briefly, and clenched his jaw. He could feel sweat running between his shoulder blades; feel it dripping from his nose and stinging his eyes. When his blue eyes opened they were hard with anger towards this... this sick fuck.
The man on the ground shifted with a moan, blinking up through unfocused eyes at the gun Wheeler had pointed at him.
He could hear Linka sobbing quietly and his eyes flicked to where she was tied up, biting her lip, trying to halt the noise. He looked back to the bloody, prone figure and nervously shifted his forefinger against the trigger.
He licked his lips. He had no idea how to get out of this. He felt utterly powerless. He glanced to where his ring lay, useless in the dirt several feet away, glinting in the hot sun.
The sound of the revolver being cocked sent his heart thudding against his chest. He heard Linka cry out.
The gun shifted against Wheeler’s cheekbone painfully as the crazed lunatic leaned forward, his reeking breath hitting him as he spoke quietly. “You’re gonna shoot that there pig...” He sneered, and swung the revolver around, “...or I’m gonna shoot your pretty lil’ girlfriend over there.”
Linka’s eyes went wide and she bit back another cry. Wheeler swallowed and readjusted his grip on the weapon. He felt sick. The magazine rattled noisily as his hand shook violently.
Shit.
He swallowed again, and looked up into Linka’s terrified eyes. “Leave her out of it. I’ll do it, alright? I’ll fucking do it, but just ...” He took a shaking breath before clenching his jaw, his brows drawing together. “I don’t want her to see it.”
At least he could give her that much. Everything would change afterwards. They would dance around it; avoid looking him in the eye. A distance would form between him and the group; Gaia would eventually ask him to leave. But at least he could save her from this. Spare her from being forced to watch him shoot the guard; watch him kill someone. He vainly, desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. If she was somewhere else, anywhere but here, he could at least try and take this nut-job down.
The gunman let out a wheezing cackle and hocked into the dust beside his feet. He turned back to Wheeler with a demented grin and clapped a hand to his back. Wheeler winced against the sting of the revolver jarring against his spine.
“That’s m’boy. Knew you’d come ‘round with a bit of reasoning.” The gunman sneered again, took a few drunken steps and gestured towards the guard with his gun. “You’ll be doing him a favour, anyways. Puttin’ him outta his misery, like a rabid dog.”
Wheeler clenched his teeth. He cast an angry glare at the gunman. “You get her outta here first. Then I’ll do it,” he hissed.
The gunman chortled. “I don’t think you’re in any right position to be bargaining. See, you’ll do it-” He rammed the gun against Wheeler’s head, “-or your shit-for-brains will be splattered all over the ground there.” He leered towards Linka. “I’m sure you don’t want her to have to see that now, huh?”
Wheeler balled his fist as his anger flared, and he seethed with barely contained fury. He wanted to smash the pistol into that motherfucker’s face. He’d risk it, if it were just him. At this point he didn’t give a shit. But if it went wrong, then Linka and Ma-Ti...
He swallowed and blinked against the stinging perspiration, pushing the thought from his mind.
This was a joke. It had to be. A sick joke. He was a goddamn Planeteer! It wasn’t his fault this psycho, trigger-happy freak lost his job because of the recycling plant. It had nothing to do with him, nothing to do with the Planeteers. They were just trying to save the planet; corporate politics were outside their jurisdiction.
“DO IT!” screamed the gunman. “DO IT! SHOOT HIM!” He shoved Wheeler roughly with the gun still pressed against his head.
Linka stifled a yelp. Eyes wide with panic she tried to reach a foot towards Ma-Ti’s crumpled form. She bit back further sobs as she shuffled down the pole she was restrained to, adding valuable inches to her reach.
“Shoot the dog, shoot the dog!”
If she could just get Ma-Ti to wake up he could do something, call for help, anything. All she knew was that if he was awake everything would stop. She glanced up at the gunman, fearful he would catch her movement. She stretched her leg out further. They were running out of time.
“Think what I could do with your lil’ lady friend if I blow your brains out. The boy will enjoy the show. Heck, he might even learn a thing or two,” the madman taunted.
Her eyes shifted to Wheeler and she froze; the toe of her sneaker was a breath away from the comatose Planeteer. Maybe it was already too late.
Wheeler felt the hysteria building; fear, anger, anxiety, sanity; rationality, all stretched beyond plasticity. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all, his emotions no longer coherent. Hell, his thoughts were no longer coherent. He let out a choked laugh. His nerves were stretched past breaking point and something had to give.
The gunman’s impatience flared. With clear agitation he barked, “Shoot the goddamned security-man or I’ll shoot your fucking brains out. Then your pals will be next!”
Wheeler rubbed an eye with the heel of his palm. His vision was swimming, and his head pounded against his skull. “This is insane. You’re fucking insane! Seriously, dude, what is your damage?” He looked down incredulously at the bleeding man before him. “You want me to shoot this guy? Just shoot some innocent guy doing his job? Come on, man, what he ever do to you?” His fingers flexed around the uncomfortable weight of the pistol.
He swallowed and laughed nervously, feeling the forceful reminder of the revolver.
His voice came out strained and cracked despite his false bravado, his eyes rapidly scanning the ground around him. “I s’pose I gotta hand it to ya; this is some way to make a point.” He furtively glanced in the direction of the gunman’s feet. “Ya know most people just write an angry letter, or sign a petition. Shit, they’d probably even call the union. But you... you really went all out. You just had to go the full nine yards, huh?”
Linka noticed Wheeler’s tone and expression darken, the sudden stillness and coiled tension in his demeanor. She watched in horror as he suddenly whirled to face the gunman. He held the pistol level with the bridge of the man’s nose.
“But why the fuck do we have to be dragged down with you, you crazy son-of-a-bitch?” Wheeler hissed through gritted teeth. A fleeting look of confusion swept over the gunman’s face.
Linka held her breath and swallowed the cry that tried to escape her throat. She was terrified that if she made a sound, if she even moved, the disgruntled PlazCorp ex-worker would pull the trigger and fire the revolver now aimed at Wheeler’s forehead.
The two men stood face-to-face, glaring and tense, guns pointed at each other’s heads.
The gunman smirked and shifted his eyes towards Linka. Wheeler responded by flicking the safety off with his thumb. His weight shifted forward ever so subtly, his shoulder extending so the pistol came to rest against the gunman’s brow.
Wheeler’s voice was a slow and quiet growl. “Take your goddamned eyes off her, you sick piece of shit.”
The man looked back to him, but remained silent, watchful; eerily calm. The smirk remained on his lips, in his eyes.
Linka swallowed, her wide eyes flicking anxiously between Planeteer and madman. She saw Wheeler ball his fist, noticed the muscle twitch in his jaw. She could feel the anger radiating from him, a blazing inferno, and it terrified her. The throbbing rush in her ears competed to drown out the mad pounding of her heart.
The gunman sucked his teeth and stared back at the American before grinning. He suddenly lowered the revolver, and before Wheeler had time to react he shot the injured security guard in the head.
Wheeler flinched at the sudden deafening impact of noise. Linka jumped and screamed, the noise escaping unbidden. She couldn’t help but stare at the now still figure. Her stomach lurched. So much blood.
The former PlazCorp employee let out a delighted whoop.
“J-Jesus Christ!” Wheeler stared down at the guard, his mouth agape. A crimson pool steadily formed and spread, mixing with the dirt, seeping into the gravel. His outstretched arm wavered and sagged. He could hear Linka behind him. The peal from the gunshot rang in his ears, but the sound of Linka retching still permeated through the din.
His expression contorted from shock to rage. What little remained of his self-control gave way like a severed cable under tension. His street survival instincts took over.
He turned back to the gunman with fire in his eyes and raised his arm once again. “You mother-fucker!” Wheeler drove the gunman backwards, storming forward with the handgun pressed against the man’s forehead.
“Wheeler! No!” Linka called out hoarsely.
Her throat burned from the sick. With her hands restrained behind her she was unable to wipe the vomit from her mouth, the stain on her shirt marking where she had rubbed her chin across her shoulder.
She pulled against the restraints, grimacing as the nylon bit into her wrists. She watched helplessly as Wheeler backed the gunman against the guardhouse.
She glanced towards Ma-Ti, still lying unconscious in the dirt. Her eyes flicked back to Wheeler. He had the gunman pinned against the wall, his forearm pressed against the man’s throat, shirt bunched in his fist. His other arm drove the barrel of the Beretta into the gunman’s forehead.
Linka knew she had to wake Ma-Ti now.
“You murdering son-of-a-bitch,” Wheeler said through gritted teeth. “What the hell did that guy do to deserve being executed? Why shouldn’t I do the same to you, you sick piece of shit?” He was shaking, from adrenalin and unrestrained rage.
“Wheeler, stop! Nyet!” cried Linka. She hastily began nudging Ma-Ti with her foot, silently urging the boy to wake, never taking her eyes from the men. Ma-Ti, please wake up. Please! We need you. I do not know what to do! Come on Ma-Ti, please... Please just wake up.
Wheeler failed to hear Linka’s pleas. He slammed the murderer against the wall with a snarl. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing mattered. This insane freak was going to hurt his friends. This psychopath just de-brained a guy. He held no delusions that Mister “trigger-happy ex-fucking-PlazCorp” would kill them all when he had the chance; once he was done playing with them. He had to end it before this crazy homicidal hick ended them.
As the sound of manic laughter hit him, Wheeler’s grip on the man’s shirt loosened a fraction. He watched with a confused frown as the ex-worker smirked and stared back at him.
“You think this is funny? I could end you right now. Then see who’s laughing,” Wheeler hissed.
“Do it, Hero,” the other man goaded. “Come on,” he drawled. “Shoot me! You got the balls or what?”
Wheeler’s face hardened and he pressed his weight against the man’s windpipe.
The gunman coughed a laugh. “You ain’t man enough to do it. You ain’t even man enough for your woman over there.” He sneered as he looked Wheeler in the eye. “I could give her a whole lot’a man.”
Linka couldn’t hear the exchange of words, but it was obvious that whatever was said was intended to provoke the American. She winced as Wheeler’s knee connected with the gunman’s groin. Her eyes flicked to the revolver still in the gunman’s fist, Wheeler’s disregard for it catching her attention.
Wheeler was unsympathetic as the man bent over and groaned. He forced the gunman upright, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt, and slammed him hard against the wall.
The Planeteer shoved the gun under the man’s chin. “Who’s got balls now, asshole?”
The PlazCorp ex-employee swallowed and squeezed his eyes closed against the agonising pain radiating from his crotch.
As the pain abated to a throbbing ache he smirked and peered at Wheeler through half slitted eyes. “So, finish it. Go on. I got nothin’ left now anyways. ‘Cept maybe a piece of that foreign ass,” he snickered, flicking his eyes towards the blonde.
Wheeler clenched his jaw. His finger squeezed against the trigger. “Why you-”
“Wheeler!” called Ma-Ti. “You do not need to do this.” The boy stood slowly, his head spinning and a persistent throb emanating from a gash near his temple.
Linka cast Ma-Ti a relieved, if shaky smile. The young Planeteer returned a reassuring nod, briefly meeting the woman’s eyes.
Wheeler risked a fleeting glance towards the direction of the Kyapo’s unexpected voice. He returned his steely gaze to the man before him. “He’s gonna kill us, Ma-Ti!” he called back. “It’s not a question of ‘if’. His next words came out as a snarl. “Personally I’d rather it be him than us.” He leaned in close to the gunman’s face, his glare burning. It’s either him or us. I could put an end to this right now. It’s just one life to save ours, along with Christ knows how many others. Wouldn’t the world would be better off? We’re saving the planet. This psycho is trying to end it.
Linka worked her hands against the restraints, her wrists painful and raw and her fingers numb. She ached: from the man’s rough handling; from being tied uncomfortably to this pole; the relentless tension throughout this ordeal she wished would just end. She felt ill. The smell of metallic blood hung thickly in the stifling air. Bile threatened to rise again.
She looked anxiously to the young Planeteer and found some comfort when she saw his ring glowing faintly.
“Wheeler, that is his way,” he called. “You are better than that. Do not give in to your anger.” Ma-Ti's voice was steady with gentle conviction. His brow was creased in concentration, his unfocused gaze briefly resting distantly on the skyline.
“You ain’t really any better than me,” the gunman provoked in a low voice. “We’re alike, we are. That burnin’ anger... We ain’t afraid to do what we gotta do. You ain’t gonna let them put that fire out in your belly, are ya? You know you wanna shoot me dead.” That maniacal grin again.
“Shut the hell up!” Wheeler shoutd. “ We are nothing alike!” He gripped the gunman’s shirt in a white-knuckled fist and lowered his voice to a growl. “You get off on this. The only satisfaction I could get from blowing your head off is knowin’ there’s one less sick fuck in the world.”
The other man snickered in response and swallowed against the gun pressed under his jaw as if to make a point.
Linka sent a nervous glance in Ma-Ti’s direction. The boy’s focus remained fixed on the pair ahead, his expression lost.
Wheeler was shaking, his muscles tense and rigid. The gunman’s smirk and careless attitude fuelled his anger. His fiery hair, slick with sweat, clung to his forehead and neck. His t-shirt clung to his back and damp stains bloomed beneath his arm-pits. He flexed his fingers around the grip of the gun.
He felt a whisper on his mind, the lightest of touches. Blinking, he tried to recognise the contact.
He gritted his teeth and gave a mental shove. “Ma-Ti, will you just get Linka and get the hell outta here!”
“Nyet, do not be-”
“Just GO!” Wheeler bellowed. “Please," he added, pleading.
Linka flinched. She looked up at Ma-Ti, worry and anxiety marring her face. As the Heart Planeteer gave Linka a tight reassuring smile, a small wave of calm washed over her. She took a breath and closed her eyes against the surrounds and dust, and the lifeless body, and focused on the gentle ebb of calm.
When she opened her eyes again she still felt shaky and sick, but her mind felt less dulled and numb. She looked to the boy with gratitude. With a brief glance to the men before her she discreetly tipped her head towards her restrained hands, curling her fingers. Ma-Ti eyes moved from hers to her hands and he gave a terse nod in acknowledgement.
Glimpsing movement the gunman began to move his arm, the revolver still grasped in his hand.
“Move another inch and it’ll be your last,” snarled Wheeler. He pressed his forearm against the gunman’s throat and burrowed the muzzle of the pistol further into the underside of the man’s jaw in a pointed display of intimidation.
The gunman released a throaty chuckle. “Why wait? You could just finish this now, Hero. You’ve got a lot of power in that there hand of yours. Or don’t you know how to use it?”
Ma-Ti could hear quiet murmuring from the gunman but that was all. He had some idea of what the man was trying to do and knowing the Fire Planeteer was fiercely protective, with a temper to match his element, the young Planeteer was duly worried.
The team had faced danger before; had battled Big-Bads, and disasters and hopeless situations. But they never felt more vulnerable than when faced with human brutality coupled with its love of brandishing weapons.
Taking advantage of the gunman’s distraction Ma-Ti slowly moved towards Linka, always maintaining a watchful eye on the men several feet away, and casting expectant glances towards the horizon.
A roar of rage, distinctly Wheeler’s, broke the hanging tension. Ma-Ti froze. He shared a worried glance with the Russian at the metallic click of a pistol being cocked and a bullet sliding into the chamber.
Ma-Ti swallowed, wringing his sweaty hands against his dusty cargo shorts. Wheeler was now standing rigid at an arm’s length from the man; the Beretta remained firmly in his grasp, but was once again resting heavily against the gunman’s forehead.
The Heart Planeteer swayed as waves of anger and nausea buffeted him. He took a stabilising breath and despite the chaos focused on a distant inner calm. He cast his mind out.
“Wheeler, you must listen to me. He is trying to make you angry on purpose. Do not listen to what he tells you. You are strong, Wheeler, you do not need to resort to violence. Please, you must not do this. Help is on the way.”
Ma-Ti’s head throbbed. His stomach rolled. The ever-present reminder of death, of anger, fear and anxiety all fought to envelop him, and his head was pounding oh so much, but still he continued to feed strength and calm and wholeness.
“My friend, please put the gun down,” Ma-Ti sent. “You do not need to do this. You do not have to fight him alone. Please, Wheeler? This is not the way. This is not your way.”
The young Planeteer resumed making his way to Linka, slowly sidestepping and treading silently.
Linka had been holding her breath. She saw Wheeler pause, his head tilted as if listening. She exhaled when the Fire Planeteer finally pulled the pistol away from the gunman’s head.
The Heart Planeteer stooped to cut Linka’s bonds. With his ear close to her lips she whispered to him, “Good work, Ma-Ti. Kwame and Gi are on their way?” Ma-Ti nodded in reply.
Ma-Ti heard Wheeler’s silent thanks and felt some of the fury begin to melt away. The boy let out a small breath of relief and began working at cutting the restraints with a scrap piece of metal.
Wheeler ejected the magazine and pulled back the slide to unload the round from the chamber.
“I’m not like you. I can’t go through with it. I won’t go through with it,” he said, kicking the ammunition away. “That’s the difference between us; I wouldn’t. And I am so not spending the rest of my life behind bars because of you.”
“Filthy coward,” spat the gunman. “That’s all you are!”
The American roughly shoved the other man and looked at him coldly. “Wheeler...” Ma-Ti’s voice cautioned gently, in his mind.
He tamped down his anger and casually began walking backwards, gravel crunching underfoot.
“Yeah, well, I have to say I’ll take coward over prison bitch any day.” He stopped a short distance away and grinned. “I hear chicks are totally digging the ‘lovable coward’ image right now.”
He heard the sound of gunfire as he stepped to turn and found himself jerking back involuntarily. Ears ringing from the sharp blast, he looked back to the gunman who wore a smug sneer. Glowering at the self satisfied expression on the madman’s face his eyes dropped to the revolver at the man’s hip, pointed towards him, a faint curl of smoke rising from the muzzle.
What the hell did he shoot?
Something didn’t feel quite right; something was faintly, distantly vying for his attention.
He looked around wildly, eyes rapidly scanning. A wave of panic hit him and he looked to Linka and Ma-Ti, checking to see they were ok. They looked back at him with wide eyes, pale and confused. He ran his eyes over himself. A mark on his shirt caught his attention and he touched a hand to the small tear and the slowly spreading stain. He looked at his fingers with a scrutinising frown as he pulled his hand away from his stomach. What the hell is...? Is that...b-blood?
He stared at his shaking hand and took two unsteady steps backwards, dropping the pistol to the ground.
Wheeler swallowed and looked up at the gunman, his pale face belying his casual tone. “Dude, you ruined my best shirt.”
Smirking, the unstable former plastics worker raised the revolver to his own temple, drew back the hammer, and without breaking eye-contact with the astonished Planeteer, pulled the trigger.
Click
Bewilderment and confusion morphed over his features. No ammo. He stared at the firearm dejectedly, in utter defeat.
Still fuelled by adrenalin and endorphins and rekindled anger Wheeler swiftly and suddenly covered the short distance, drew back his arm and threw a heavy punch. The gunman’s head jarred backwards, striking the wall hard, and he slumped to the ground, out cold.
“Stain’s never gonna come out,” Wheeler muttered, standing over the now unconscious shooter. Clenching his jaw and breathing heavily through his nose, his heart still hammering wildly he suddenly swung a kick into the man’s stomach. He closed his eyes, exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his face, leaving bloody smudges on his brow and cheek and along his jaw. He braced himself with a hand against the guardhouse wall as the world suddenly tilted in front of him.
He turned slowly and swaying on his feet, tiredly started to make his way over to Linka and Ma-Ti. The adrenaline that had fuelled him through the ordeal now began to rapidly dissipate. His body began to register the trauma and blood loss, and as the endorphins wore off he suddenly felt a heady flood of nausea. His vision narrowed and, as the pain rent through his gut, he staggered a few steps before dropping to his knees, clutching his abdomen.
“Wheeler!” Ma-Ti and Linka cried out at once.
At the sound of gunfire they had both frozen, watching the scene unfold before them with alarm and confusion. Neither had comprehended what had just taken place. Not until Wheeler had collapsed.
“Ma-Ti, quickly, get me loose,” instructed Linka. The boy didn’t hear her at first, his hands poised in the middle of cutting her bonds. “Ma-Ti...” she repeated, gently but firmly.
Ma-Ti quickly cut through the nylon, his face pale and anxious. As soon as Linka’s hands were free she scrambled to her feet and ran to Wheeler, dropping to her knees beside him.
“Ma-Ti, restrain him,” she nodded towards the crumpled figure. “In case he wakes up. Then check the guardhouse for a first aid kit.” She quickly inspected the gunshot wound, keeping her face impassive, and begun applying pressure to staunch the bleeding.
Ma-Ti approached the unconscious PlazCorp gunman, glancing at the revolver lying nearby. He kicked it away in disgust. He quickly searched the guardhouse for something to tie the man up with, emerging moments later with nylon restraints.
“So, is the whole lovable coward thing working for me yet?” Wheeler joked through gritted teeth. Sweat beaded across his brow and his face was ghostly white.
Linka gave him a smile as she waited for Ma-Ti to bring her the first aid kit. “Ah, Wheeler,” she sighed in mock exasperation. “What you will do to get attention, eh?”
He grinned. “Hey, it worked didn’t it?” He grimaced as a barrage of pain radiated across his stomach. Linka’s brow creased in concern. She hoped Gi and Kwame were not too far away.
The Heart Planeteer emerged from the guardhouse a second time, carting a large carry box. He laid it next the woman and knelt down beside her.
“How bad is it?” Ma-Ti sent as he rummaged through the kit for necessary items.
“It is too hard to tell. The entrance wound is not so bad, but I need to check for an exit wound. I do not like to move him, but I am afraid he will lose a lot of blood if we do not. I hope Gi and Kwame arrive soon.”
“Anybody ever tell you guys it’s rude to speak telepathically in front of people?” interrupted Wheeler. His voice was breathy and tight. “Care to let me in on the party?” Ma-Ti gave a small apologetic smile. Linka frowned down at him.
She studied his face for a moment. Pain pulled at the corners of his mouth and eyes, though his blue eyes still sparkled, albeit less brightly than usual. At the Russian’s expression Wheeler’s face straightened. “So, tell me doc, how bad is it?” She was sure she heard his voice shake.
Ma-Ti passed the blonde a combine dressing. Wheeler’s eyes lingered on Linka’s hands, slick and bright with his blood. He swallowed. Linka cleared her throat, regaining her composure and deftly recalled her emotions. It was the logical Linka, the analytical, no-nonsense Linka that spoke. “You have been shot, Wheeler.” She ignored the derisive look he threw her. “I need to check for an exit-wound. If the bullet has penetrated all the way through we need to stop the bleeding. Either way, I need to bind this so you do not bleed out.”
“Oh.” He was quiet a moment, the impact of her words filtering through the haze. “I was hoping maybe it was just a flesh wound? You know, a really painful flesh wound… Well, it can’t be that bad, can it?” The American moved to sit up, but hot pain tore through him and he cried out, slumping back into the dirt. “Fuck,” he panted. His vision wavered and dimmed as waves of nausea washed through and around him. He squeezed his eyes closed a moment. He looked up at Linka, his face serious and white. “The son-of-a-bitch shot me, you believe that? He shot me! ” Linka saw the panic that flitted across his face. Ma-Ti felt it, and realised clearly, for the first time, just how much the team were rallied by the Fire Planeteer’s persistent optimism.
Ma-Ti cast his mind out to the two Planeteers flying at top speed to meet them. Tired and drained, it was a comfort to meet the strength and calm of the Earth Planeteer’s mind. “We are almost there, my friend. Gi has called the paramedics and the police. They should arrive soon.” Ma-Ti sent his thanks and broke the link. He relayed the information to Linka.
“Help is on the way, Wheeler,” she informed him gently. She looked down at her hands pressed against his belly, frowning in thought and biting her lip. “I do not know how far away they are. If the bullet went through we need to stop the bleeding.” She gave Wheeler an apologetic look before looking to Ma-Ti. He nodded his agreement.
Linka gingerly worked with Ma-Ti to move the American onto his side. She winced when he gave a shuddering groan. With Ma-Ti supporting him, Linka drew back Wheeler’s jacket and inhaled sharply at the dark stain that soaked his shirt. With a frown she peeled back the bloodied material and paled at the torn flesh that lay beneath.
She stared at the wound a moment, unable to fathom how one small object could do so much damage, so easily, so quickly. She was surprised Wheeler was still conscious. She tore her eyes away, mentally scolding herself for wasting precious time on idle thoughts.
“Ma-Ti, pass me another combine dressing. A bandage also. I am hoping I can bind this to keep it in place,” she instructed without looking up. She worked to keep her voice level, but Ma-Ti caught the tightness of her voice and watched her carefully as he passed her the dressing. He glanced down to where her hands worked, catching a glimpse of the wound before she could cover it with the heavy gauze. His eyes widened at the sight, his brows drawing together in concern. Wheeler groaned and clenched his teeth as Linka applied pressure to the gunshot wound. His breathing was becoming more rapid, more shallow. His body shook more noticeably.
Linka swore quietly in Russian and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, marking her brow with a dark smear of blood. “There is so much blood. I do not know if I can stop the bleeding. I do not have training for this, Ma-Ti. I do not-” She inhaled a shuddering breath before continuing. “I do not know if I can stop the bleeding.” She stared hopelessly at the reddening gauze beneath her shaking hands. She felt sick and dizzy and on the verge of crying. Her nerves were frayed and her resilience fractured.”I do not know what to do, Ma-Ti.”
“We just keep applying pressure, Linka,” the Ma-Ti said gently. “It will be ok. Here.” He wiped the blood from the woman’s face with a piece of gauze and gave her a reassuring smile. He returned his hand on top of the other against Wheeler’s stomach, warm blood seeping between his fingers.
“Stupid,” mumbled Wheeler. Ma-Ti and Linka looked down at him, brows wrinkled. They glanced to one another, confusion and concern in their eyes. “So stupid,” continued Wheeler.
Linka opened her mouth to speak but her voice failed her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What is stupid, Wheeler?”
“He still had the gun.” Wheeler’s voice was husky and thick with pain. “He coulda shot one of you. He still had the gun. I walked away. I shoulda made him drop the gun.”
Linka looked worryingly to the Heart Planeteer, but remained silent. Wheeler was beginning to go into shock and time was running short. If the paramedics didn’t arrive soon…
The high-pitched thrum of the Geocruiser broke through Linka’s dazed reverie. She barely registered Gi and Kwame running from the aircraft; barely noticed them halt at the body of the security guard with horror on their faces. She looked up when a whimper sounded from Gi’s lips.
“No, no, no, no,” sobbed Gi, hands covering her mouth as she stared at Wheeler propped against Ma-Ti’s legs. “This can’t be happening. Not again.” Tears welled in her eyes and she buried her head into Kwame’s chest. The Earth Planeteer wrapped a comforting arm around her.
“He will be alright, Gi. Wheeler will pull through,” Kwame said reassuringly to her. He looked to Linka questioningly. The Russian gave a minute shrug in response and dropped her eyes.
Trying to bring hope and comfort, Kwame informed Ma-Ti and Linka, “The paramedics are almost here. We saw them as we flew in. There was a road-block… an accident of some sort... The police were just behind them.” He glanced to where the gunman lay motionless and bound.
“I don’t understand how this could happen. The recycling plant hasn’t even started operating yet.” Gi’s voice wavered as she fought to keep back the tears. Ma-Ti was too exhausted to attempt to reason an answer.
Wheeler groaned faintly. Linka chewed her lip and readjusted her hold on the blood-soaked gauze. It must have hurt him to breathe because he was taking short, shallow breaths. Tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed them shut. Ma-Ti’s forehead was creased and his face was drawn and pale.
The piercing wail of sirens drifted towards them. Linka looked up at the sound, relief sweeping through her. The Planeteers all looked to each other, hopeful and relieved. Wheeler groaned and shifted. His heels scuffed in the dirt, sending up dust. Warm blood seeped through Ma-Ti’s and Linka’s fingers.
“Wheeler, help is here,” Ma-Ti said. “You just need to hold on a little longer. Wheeler?” The boy looked down. Wheeler was losing consciousness. Ma-Ti looked up at Linka. They shared a look full of fear and worry. She looked towards the approaching ambulance anxiously and chewed her lip, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Kwame gently eased Gi from his embrace. He squeezed her shoulders briefly before jogging towards the paramedics climbing out of the ambulance. Gi sniffed and hugged her arms around herself. Her lip quivered as she stared down at Wheeler’s still form.
Linka and Ma-Ti watched and moved in a daze as the paramedics pried them away from Wheeler. The Heart Planeteer grasped Linka’s hand, though she barely noticed. She watched them load the American onto a stretcher, an IV line running from his forearm and an oxygen mask over his face. She felt disconnected from what was happening. She was tired - so tired - and maybe if she went to sleep she could wake up and things would be fine again. The buzz of noise as the paramedics worked and relayed his condition filtered into the background.
Gi stifled a sob and stepped around to hold Linka’s other hand, interlacing her fingers through the other woman’s. How could this happen again? How could it happen to one of their own? Why hadn’t Gaia stopped it? She looked up at Linka. The Russian’s expression was unreadable, her eyes distant and unfocused. Her face was grubby and pale; blood smeared her forehead and her clothes. It was sticky and damp against Gi’s fingers, but she didn’t care.
Ma-Ti was barely able to stay upright, exhausted, shaken and drained. His head throbbed violently against his skull and behind his eyes. He felt detached from himself; felt like something was missing and disconnected. Everything around him moved in slow-motion.
“Sir, I think we need to take a look at that cut. It looks like it might need stitches. Sir? Sir?”
He didn’t register the paramedic talking to him until she put a hand on his shoulder. He came back to himself. “Huh? Oh…” Ma-Ti looked to Linka, her hand still clasped in his own. He didn’t want to leave them; he desperately needed to grasp onto the connection.
The paramedic glanced to Linka and back to Ma-Ti. Her expression softened. “Why don’t you both come with me. We can see to both of your wounds.” Ma-Ti looked to Gi, who nodded and gave him a watery smile. He followed the paramedic, Linka trailing numbly behind him, still holding his hand. As they headed towards the ambulance, Ma-Ti spotted Wheeler’s ring on the ground. He tugged Linka after him and stooped to pick it up. He put the ring in his vest.
Kwame was talking to the Police that had finally arrived, gesturing towards the bound man now sitting propped - and awake - against the wall of the guardhouse. Gi wandered over to stand beside Kwame, pointedly avoiding the bloodied body. She kept close to the tall African, hugging herself, and waited for a break in the conversation.
“Kwame, the others have gone to the hospital. We should follow.” He nodded and took a last glance towards the body
~~~*~~~
“Thank you for your cooperation. If there’s anything else you can think of, here’s the number of our precinct.” The policewoman handed Linka a card and gave a small nod to Ma-Ti before leaving the waiting room with her partner in tow.
Linka leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair with a sigh. She glanced to Ma-Ti. He reached a hand to the stitches along his hairline with a wince.
“Are you ok, Ma-Ti?” Linka asked gently. The boy shrugged in response and stared down at his feet. The Russian rubbed a thumb over her salved wrists.
“I could not stop the gunman,” Ma-Ti said finally. “I tried to. I tried to go into his mind, to convince him to stop. I do not think he was well. His mind was confused. I looked into him and all I saw was anger…” He rubbed his eye with the back of his finger. Linka nodded and studied the scuffed checkerboard vinyl tiles.
Gi nudged Kwame as a surgeon approached. They all stood and waited anxiously for news.
“Surgery went well,” said the doctor. “He’s recovering now. He’ll be a bit groggy from the anaesthetic.”
“Is he going to be ok?” asked Linka. “He lost so much blood…” She hugged her arm.
“Fortunately it was a through-and-through gunshot wound and missed the major organs and abdominal aorta. We had to give him a blood transfusion; the abdomen is highly vascular, so that’s why there was so much bleeding.”
“When can he go home?” asked Gi.
“He’ll need to stay in for a couple of days. We’ll review how the wound is healing and he should be discharged soon. He’ll need to take it easy for a few weeks.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said Kwame. “When can we see him?”
“You can go in now. He’s in room 304 on the South ward. Just remember he’s had major surgery so he needs to rest. The nurses will let you know when visiting hours are up.” The doctor gave them a smile and left them to find Wheeler’s hospital room.
~~~*~~~
The voice over the loudspeaker announced they had fifteen minutes until visiting hours ended. A nurse was making her rounds. She would soon usher them out so she could take Wheeler’s obs and give him more pain medication and antibiotics.
Gi hugged him gently. She sniffed and gave him a watery grin. “I’m glad you’re ok. Always the centre of attention, eh Wheeler?” He gave her a tired grin in return. She waited by the door for the others.
Kwame gripped Wheeler’s hand. “It is good to have you back, my friend.”
“Thanks, man,” Wheeler rasped.
Kwame wrapped his arm around Gi’s shoulders and guided her into the hallway.
“Hey babe,” said Wheeler tiredly. Linka sidled up to the side of the bed and took his hand. “Don’t suppose I could get you in one of these nurse’s outfits? I did take a bullet for the team.”
“Bozhe moy,” she muttered, though it was half-hearted. “I am glad you are ok, Wheeler. What you did was foolish, and you could have died,” she said bluntly. More gently she added, “But thank you.” She hugged him and laid a soft kiss on his cheek. “Rest up, and we will visit you tomorrow.” She squeezed his hand before joining Gi and Kwame in the hallway.
Ma-Ti moved to Wheeler’s bedside. “I picked this up for you. I thought you would like it back.” He held his fist out. Wheeler lifted his hand and Ma-Ti dropped the Fire ring into it.
“Thanks little buddy. I felt kinda naked without it. If you know what I mean?” Ma-Ti smirked in response and nodded his agreement. Companionable silence hung between them, the beeping of infusion pumps and heart monitors resounding in the background.
“Hey, Ma-Ti,” said Wheeler quietly. “Uh, thanks. You know, for pulling me back. I owe you one, man.”
Ma-Ti returned an understanding smile in acknowledgement. “Anytime, my friend. Anytime…”
Wheeler rested his head back into the pillow and closed his eyes, weary and exhausted. The Heart Planeteer took his leave, eager to curl up in the hotel bed waiting for him. Eager to put the day’s events behind them.
Author - mudg3t
Word count - 6, 857
Rating - M
Summary - The Planeteers have faced eco-disasters and danger countless times. But what happens when they are pushed to the edge and forced to do the unthinkable?
Warnings (if any) - Extreme language and violence.
Author's note - 100-situations. Oh man, I have been working in this for almost 2 years! It is probably the longest one-shot I have ever written. It just kept on going. I think it's also the most research I've done for a fic - I've tried to portray it as realistic as possible, and omg by the end, the stuff I had to trawl through D: Anyway, a HUGE thanks for ozqueen, frankiealton and plunderer01 for their ceaseless beta skills and cheer-leading <3 forever! So, this is a much darker and more serious take on the CP world, and it's what happens when I watch too many heavy movies. So much potential for darkfic in this fandom.
Prompt: Gun
He stared down at the wounded guard lying semi-lucid in the dirt bleeding and groaning.
He could feel the hot press of the muzzle against his cheek and his hand was sweating and shaking around the grip of the pistol.
“Do it!”
He flinched against the gruff bark and the jab of the gun against his face.
He squeezed his eyes closed, briefly, and clenched his jaw. He could feel sweat running between his shoulder blades; feel it dripping from his nose and stinging his eyes. When his blue eyes opened they were hard with anger towards this... this sick fuck.
The man on the ground shifted with a moan, blinking up through unfocused eyes at the gun Wheeler had pointed at him.
He could hear Linka sobbing quietly and his eyes flicked to where she was tied up, biting her lip, trying to halt the noise. He looked back to the bloody, prone figure and nervously shifted his forefinger against the trigger.
He licked his lips. He had no idea how to get out of this. He felt utterly powerless. He glanced to where his ring lay, useless in the dirt several feet away, glinting in the hot sun.
The sound of the revolver being cocked sent his heart thudding against his chest. He heard Linka cry out.
The gun shifted against Wheeler’s cheekbone painfully as the crazed lunatic leaned forward, his reeking breath hitting him as he spoke quietly. “You’re gonna shoot that there pig...” He sneered, and swung the revolver around, “...or I’m gonna shoot your pretty lil’ girlfriend over there.”
Linka’s eyes went wide and she bit back another cry. Wheeler swallowed and readjusted his grip on the weapon. He felt sick. The magazine rattled noisily as his hand shook violently.
Shit.
He swallowed again, and looked up into Linka’s terrified eyes. “Leave her out of it. I’ll do it, alright? I’ll fucking do it, but just ...” He took a shaking breath before clenching his jaw, his brows drawing together. “I don’t want her to see it.”
At least he could give her that much. Everything would change afterwards. They would dance around it; avoid looking him in the eye. A distance would form between him and the group; Gaia would eventually ask him to leave. But at least he could save her from this. Spare her from being forced to watch him shoot the guard; watch him kill someone. He vainly, desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. If she was somewhere else, anywhere but here, he could at least try and take this nut-job down.
The gunman let out a wheezing cackle and hocked into the dust beside his feet. He turned back to Wheeler with a demented grin and clapped a hand to his back. Wheeler winced against the sting of the revolver jarring against his spine.
“That’s m’boy. Knew you’d come ‘round with a bit of reasoning.” The gunman sneered again, took a few drunken steps and gestured towards the guard with his gun. “You’ll be doing him a favour, anyways. Puttin’ him outta his misery, like a rabid dog.”
Wheeler clenched his teeth. He cast an angry glare at the gunman. “You get her outta here first. Then I’ll do it,” he hissed.
The gunman chortled. “I don’t think you’re in any right position to be bargaining. See, you’ll do it-” He rammed the gun against Wheeler’s head, “-or your shit-for-brains will be splattered all over the ground there.” He leered towards Linka. “I’m sure you don’t want her to have to see that now, huh?”
Wheeler balled his fist as his anger flared, and he seethed with barely contained fury. He wanted to smash the pistol into that motherfucker’s face. He’d risk it, if it were just him. At this point he didn’t give a shit. But if it went wrong, then Linka and Ma-Ti...
He swallowed and blinked against the stinging perspiration, pushing the thought from his mind.
This was a joke. It had to be. A sick joke. He was a goddamn Planeteer! It wasn’t his fault this psycho, trigger-happy freak lost his job because of the recycling plant. It had nothing to do with him, nothing to do with the Planeteers. They were just trying to save the planet; corporate politics were outside their jurisdiction.
“DO IT!” screamed the gunman. “DO IT! SHOOT HIM!” He shoved Wheeler roughly with the gun still pressed against his head.
Linka stifled a yelp. Eyes wide with panic she tried to reach a foot towards Ma-Ti’s crumpled form. She bit back further sobs as she shuffled down the pole she was restrained to, adding valuable inches to her reach.
“Shoot the dog, shoot the dog!”
If she could just get Ma-Ti to wake up he could do something, call for help, anything. All she knew was that if he was awake everything would stop. She glanced up at the gunman, fearful he would catch her movement. She stretched her leg out further. They were running out of time.
“Think what I could do with your lil’ lady friend if I blow your brains out. The boy will enjoy the show. Heck, he might even learn a thing or two,” the madman taunted.
Her eyes shifted to Wheeler and she froze; the toe of her sneaker was a breath away from the comatose Planeteer. Maybe it was already too late.
Wheeler felt the hysteria building; fear, anger, anxiety, sanity; rationality, all stretched beyond plasticity. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all, his emotions no longer coherent. Hell, his thoughts were no longer coherent. He let out a choked laugh. His nerves were stretched past breaking point and something had to give.
The gunman’s impatience flared. With clear agitation he barked, “Shoot the goddamned security-man or I’ll shoot your fucking brains out. Then your pals will be next!”
Wheeler rubbed an eye with the heel of his palm. His vision was swimming, and his head pounded against his skull. “This is insane. You’re fucking insane! Seriously, dude, what is your damage?” He looked down incredulously at the bleeding man before him. “You want me to shoot this guy? Just shoot some innocent guy doing his job? Come on, man, what he ever do to you?” His fingers flexed around the uncomfortable weight of the pistol.
He swallowed and laughed nervously, feeling the forceful reminder of the revolver.
His voice came out strained and cracked despite his false bravado, his eyes rapidly scanning the ground around him. “I s’pose I gotta hand it to ya; this is some way to make a point.” He furtively glanced in the direction of the gunman’s feet. “Ya know most people just write an angry letter, or sign a petition. Shit, they’d probably even call the union. But you... you really went all out. You just had to go the full nine yards, huh?”
Linka noticed Wheeler’s tone and expression darken, the sudden stillness and coiled tension in his demeanor. She watched in horror as he suddenly whirled to face the gunman. He held the pistol level with the bridge of the man’s nose.
“But why the fuck do we have to be dragged down with you, you crazy son-of-a-bitch?” Wheeler hissed through gritted teeth. A fleeting look of confusion swept over the gunman’s face.
Linka held her breath and swallowed the cry that tried to escape her throat. She was terrified that if she made a sound, if she even moved, the disgruntled PlazCorp ex-worker would pull the trigger and fire the revolver now aimed at Wheeler’s forehead.
The two men stood face-to-face, glaring and tense, guns pointed at each other’s heads.
The gunman smirked and shifted his eyes towards Linka. Wheeler responded by flicking the safety off with his thumb. His weight shifted forward ever so subtly, his shoulder extending so the pistol came to rest against the gunman’s brow.
Wheeler’s voice was a slow and quiet growl. “Take your goddamned eyes off her, you sick piece of shit.”
The man looked back to him, but remained silent, watchful; eerily calm. The smirk remained on his lips, in his eyes.
Linka swallowed, her wide eyes flicking anxiously between Planeteer and madman. She saw Wheeler ball his fist, noticed the muscle twitch in his jaw. She could feel the anger radiating from him, a blazing inferno, and it terrified her. The throbbing rush in her ears competed to drown out the mad pounding of her heart.
The gunman sucked his teeth and stared back at the American before grinning. He suddenly lowered the revolver, and before Wheeler had time to react he shot the injured security guard in the head.
Wheeler flinched at the sudden deafening impact of noise. Linka jumped and screamed, the noise escaping unbidden. She couldn’t help but stare at the now still figure. Her stomach lurched. So much blood.
The former PlazCorp employee let out a delighted whoop.
“J-Jesus Christ!” Wheeler stared down at the guard, his mouth agape. A crimson pool steadily formed and spread, mixing with the dirt, seeping into the gravel. His outstretched arm wavered and sagged. He could hear Linka behind him. The peal from the gunshot rang in his ears, but the sound of Linka retching still permeated through the din.
His expression contorted from shock to rage. What little remained of his self-control gave way like a severed cable under tension. His street survival instincts took over.
He turned back to the gunman with fire in his eyes and raised his arm once again. “You mother-fucker!” Wheeler drove the gunman backwards, storming forward with the handgun pressed against the man’s forehead.
“Wheeler! No!” Linka called out hoarsely.
Her throat burned from the sick. With her hands restrained behind her she was unable to wipe the vomit from her mouth, the stain on her shirt marking where she had rubbed her chin across her shoulder.
She pulled against the restraints, grimacing as the nylon bit into her wrists. She watched helplessly as Wheeler backed the gunman against the guardhouse.
She glanced towards Ma-Ti, still lying unconscious in the dirt. Her eyes flicked back to Wheeler. He had the gunman pinned against the wall, his forearm pressed against the man’s throat, shirt bunched in his fist. His other arm drove the barrel of the Beretta into the gunman’s forehead.
Linka knew she had to wake Ma-Ti now.
“You murdering son-of-a-bitch,” Wheeler said through gritted teeth. “What the hell did that guy do to deserve being executed? Why shouldn’t I do the same to you, you sick piece of shit?” He was shaking, from adrenalin and unrestrained rage.
“Wheeler, stop! Nyet!” cried Linka. She hastily began nudging Ma-Ti with her foot, silently urging the boy to wake, never taking her eyes from the men. Ma-Ti, please wake up. Please! We need you. I do not know what to do! Come on Ma-Ti, please... Please just wake up.
Wheeler failed to hear Linka’s pleas. He slammed the murderer against the wall with a snarl. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing mattered. This insane freak was going to hurt his friends. This psychopath just de-brained a guy. He held no delusions that Mister “trigger-happy ex-fucking-PlazCorp” would kill them all when he had the chance; once he was done playing with them. He had to end it before this crazy homicidal hick ended them.
As the sound of manic laughter hit him, Wheeler’s grip on the man’s shirt loosened a fraction. He watched with a confused frown as the ex-worker smirked and stared back at him.
“You think this is funny? I could end you right now. Then see who’s laughing,” Wheeler hissed.
“Do it, Hero,” the other man goaded. “Come on,” he drawled. “Shoot me! You got the balls or what?”
Wheeler’s face hardened and he pressed his weight against the man’s windpipe.
The gunman coughed a laugh. “You ain’t man enough to do it. You ain’t even man enough for your woman over there.” He sneered as he looked Wheeler in the eye. “I could give her a whole lot’a man.”
Linka couldn’t hear the exchange of words, but it was obvious that whatever was said was intended to provoke the American. She winced as Wheeler’s knee connected with the gunman’s groin. Her eyes flicked to the revolver still in the gunman’s fist, Wheeler’s disregard for it catching her attention.
Wheeler was unsympathetic as the man bent over and groaned. He forced the gunman upright, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt, and slammed him hard against the wall.
The Planeteer shoved the gun under the man’s chin. “Who’s got balls now, asshole?”
The PlazCorp ex-employee swallowed and squeezed his eyes closed against the agonising pain radiating from his crotch.
As the pain abated to a throbbing ache he smirked and peered at Wheeler through half slitted eyes. “So, finish it. Go on. I got nothin’ left now anyways. ‘Cept maybe a piece of that foreign ass,” he snickered, flicking his eyes towards the blonde.
Wheeler clenched his jaw. His finger squeezed against the trigger. “Why you-”
“Wheeler!” called Ma-Ti. “You do not need to do this.” The boy stood slowly, his head spinning and a persistent throb emanating from a gash near his temple.
Linka cast Ma-Ti a relieved, if shaky smile. The young Planeteer returned a reassuring nod, briefly meeting the woman’s eyes.
Wheeler risked a fleeting glance towards the direction of the Kyapo’s unexpected voice. He returned his steely gaze to the man before him. “He’s gonna kill us, Ma-Ti!” he called back. “It’s not a question of ‘if’. His next words came out as a snarl. “Personally I’d rather it be him than us.” He leaned in close to the gunman’s face, his glare burning. It’s either him or us. I could put an end to this right now. It’s just one life to save ours, along with Christ knows how many others. Wouldn’t the world would be better off? We’re saving the planet. This psycho is trying to end it.
Linka worked her hands against the restraints, her wrists painful and raw and her fingers numb. She ached: from the man’s rough handling; from being tied uncomfortably to this pole; the relentless tension throughout this ordeal she wished would just end. She felt ill. The smell of metallic blood hung thickly in the stifling air. Bile threatened to rise again.
She looked anxiously to the young Planeteer and found some comfort when she saw his ring glowing faintly.
“Wheeler, that is his way,” he called. “You are better than that. Do not give in to your anger.” Ma-Ti's voice was steady with gentle conviction. His brow was creased in concentration, his unfocused gaze briefly resting distantly on the skyline.
“You ain’t really any better than me,” the gunman provoked in a low voice. “We’re alike, we are. That burnin’ anger... We ain’t afraid to do what we gotta do. You ain’t gonna let them put that fire out in your belly, are ya? You know you wanna shoot me dead.” That maniacal grin again.
“Shut the hell up!” Wheeler shoutd. “ We are nothing alike!” He gripped the gunman’s shirt in a white-knuckled fist and lowered his voice to a growl. “You get off on this. The only satisfaction I could get from blowing your head off is knowin’ there’s one less sick fuck in the world.”
The other man snickered in response and swallowed against the gun pressed under his jaw as if to make a point.
Linka sent a nervous glance in Ma-Ti’s direction. The boy’s focus remained fixed on the pair ahead, his expression lost.
Wheeler was shaking, his muscles tense and rigid. The gunman’s smirk and careless attitude fuelled his anger. His fiery hair, slick with sweat, clung to his forehead and neck. His t-shirt clung to his back and damp stains bloomed beneath his arm-pits. He flexed his fingers around the grip of the gun.
He felt a whisper on his mind, the lightest of touches. Blinking, he tried to recognise the contact.
He gritted his teeth and gave a mental shove. “Ma-Ti, will you just get Linka and get the hell outta here!”
“Nyet, do not be-”
“Just GO!” Wheeler bellowed. “Please," he added, pleading.
Linka flinched. She looked up at Ma-Ti, worry and anxiety marring her face. As the Heart Planeteer gave Linka a tight reassuring smile, a small wave of calm washed over her. She took a breath and closed her eyes against the surrounds and dust, and the lifeless body, and focused on the gentle ebb of calm.
When she opened her eyes again she still felt shaky and sick, but her mind felt less dulled and numb. She looked to the boy with gratitude. With a brief glance to the men before her she discreetly tipped her head towards her restrained hands, curling her fingers. Ma-Ti eyes moved from hers to her hands and he gave a terse nod in acknowledgement.
Glimpsing movement the gunman began to move his arm, the revolver still grasped in his hand.
“Move another inch and it’ll be your last,” snarled Wheeler. He pressed his forearm against the gunman’s throat and burrowed the muzzle of the pistol further into the underside of the man’s jaw in a pointed display of intimidation.
The gunman released a throaty chuckle. “Why wait? You could just finish this now, Hero. You’ve got a lot of power in that there hand of yours. Or don’t you know how to use it?”
Ma-Ti could hear quiet murmuring from the gunman but that was all. He had some idea of what the man was trying to do and knowing the Fire Planeteer was fiercely protective, with a temper to match his element, the young Planeteer was duly worried.
The team had faced danger before; had battled Big-Bads, and disasters and hopeless situations. But they never felt more vulnerable than when faced with human brutality coupled with its love of brandishing weapons.
Taking advantage of the gunman’s distraction Ma-Ti slowly moved towards Linka, always maintaining a watchful eye on the men several feet away, and casting expectant glances towards the horizon.
A roar of rage, distinctly Wheeler’s, broke the hanging tension. Ma-Ti froze. He shared a worried glance with the Russian at the metallic click of a pistol being cocked and a bullet sliding into the chamber.
Ma-Ti swallowed, wringing his sweaty hands against his dusty cargo shorts. Wheeler was now standing rigid at an arm’s length from the man; the Beretta remained firmly in his grasp, but was once again resting heavily against the gunman’s forehead.
The Heart Planeteer swayed as waves of anger and nausea buffeted him. He took a stabilising breath and despite the chaos focused on a distant inner calm. He cast his mind out.
“Wheeler, you must listen to me. He is trying to make you angry on purpose. Do not listen to what he tells you. You are strong, Wheeler, you do not need to resort to violence. Please, you must not do this. Help is on the way.”
Ma-Ti’s head throbbed. His stomach rolled. The ever-present reminder of death, of anger, fear and anxiety all fought to envelop him, and his head was pounding oh so much, but still he continued to feed strength and calm and wholeness.
“My friend, please put the gun down,” Ma-Ti sent. “You do not need to do this. You do not have to fight him alone. Please, Wheeler? This is not the way. This is not your way.”
The young Planeteer resumed making his way to Linka, slowly sidestepping and treading silently.
Linka had been holding her breath. She saw Wheeler pause, his head tilted as if listening. She exhaled when the Fire Planeteer finally pulled the pistol away from the gunman’s head.
The Heart Planeteer stooped to cut Linka’s bonds. With his ear close to her lips she whispered to him, “Good work, Ma-Ti. Kwame and Gi are on their way?” Ma-Ti nodded in reply.
Ma-Ti heard Wheeler’s silent thanks and felt some of the fury begin to melt away. The boy let out a small breath of relief and began working at cutting the restraints with a scrap piece of metal.
Wheeler ejected the magazine and pulled back the slide to unload the round from the chamber.
“I’m not like you. I can’t go through with it. I won’t go through with it,” he said, kicking the ammunition away. “That’s the difference between us; I wouldn’t. And I am so not spending the rest of my life behind bars because of you.”
“Filthy coward,” spat the gunman. “That’s all you are!”
The American roughly shoved the other man and looked at him coldly. “Wheeler...” Ma-Ti’s voice cautioned gently, in his mind.
He tamped down his anger and casually began walking backwards, gravel crunching underfoot.
“Yeah, well, I have to say I’ll take coward over prison bitch any day.” He stopped a short distance away and grinned. “I hear chicks are totally digging the ‘lovable coward’ image right now.”
He heard the sound of gunfire as he stepped to turn and found himself jerking back involuntarily. Ears ringing from the sharp blast, he looked back to the gunman who wore a smug sneer. Glowering at the self satisfied expression on the madman’s face his eyes dropped to the revolver at the man’s hip, pointed towards him, a faint curl of smoke rising from the muzzle.
What the hell did he shoot?
Something didn’t feel quite right; something was faintly, distantly vying for his attention.
He looked around wildly, eyes rapidly scanning. A wave of panic hit him and he looked to Linka and Ma-Ti, checking to see they were ok. They looked back at him with wide eyes, pale and confused. He ran his eyes over himself. A mark on his shirt caught his attention and he touched a hand to the small tear and the slowly spreading stain. He looked at his fingers with a scrutinising frown as he pulled his hand away from his stomach. What the hell is...? Is that...b-blood?
He stared at his shaking hand and took two unsteady steps backwards, dropping the pistol to the ground.
Wheeler swallowed and looked up at the gunman, his pale face belying his casual tone. “Dude, you ruined my best shirt.”
Smirking, the unstable former plastics worker raised the revolver to his own temple, drew back the hammer, and without breaking eye-contact with the astonished Planeteer, pulled the trigger.
Click
Bewilderment and confusion morphed over his features. No ammo. He stared at the firearm dejectedly, in utter defeat.
Still fuelled by adrenalin and endorphins and rekindled anger Wheeler swiftly and suddenly covered the short distance, drew back his arm and threw a heavy punch. The gunman’s head jarred backwards, striking the wall hard, and he slumped to the ground, out cold.
“Stain’s never gonna come out,” Wheeler muttered, standing over the now unconscious shooter. Clenching his jaw and breathing heavily through his nose, his heart still hammering wildly he suddenly swung a kick into the man’s stomach. He closed his eyes, exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his face, leaving bloody smudges on his brow and cheek and along his jaw. He braced himself with a hand against the guardhouse wall as the world suddenly tilted in front of him.
He turned slowly and swaying on his feet, tiredly started to make his way over to Linka and Ma-Ti. The adrenaline that had fuelled him through the ordeal now began to rapidly dissipate. His body began to register the trauma and blood loss, and as the endorphins wore off he suddenly felt a heady flood of nausea. His vision narrowed and, as the pain rent through his gut, he staggered a few steps before dropping to his knees, clutching his abdomen.
“Wheeler!” Ma-Ti and Linka cried out at once.
At the sound of gunfire they had both frozen, watching the scene unfold before them with alarm and confusion. Neither had comprehended what had just taken place. Not until Wheeler had collapsed.
“Ma-Ti, quickly, get me loose,” instructed Linka. The boy didn’t hear her at first, his hands poised in the middle of cutting her bonds. “Ma-Ti...” she repeated, gently but firmly.
Ma-Ti quickly cut through the nylon, his face pale and anxious. As soon as Linka’s hands were free she scrambled to her feet and ran to Wheeler, dropping to her knees beside him.
“Ma-Ti, restrain him,” she nodded towards the crumpled figure. “In case he wakes up. Then check the guardhouse for a first aid kit.” She quickly inspected the gunshot wound, keeping her face impassive, and begun applying pressure to staunch the bleeding.
Ma-Ti approached the unconscious PlazCorp gunman, glancing at the revolver lying nearby. He kicked it away in disgust. He quickly searched the guardhouse for something to tie the man up with, emerging moments later with nylon restraints.
“So, is the whole lovable coward thing working for me yet?” Wheeler joked through gritted teeth. Sweat beaded across his brow and his face was ghostly white.
Linka gave him a smile as she waited for Ma-Ti to bring her the first aid kit. “Ah, Wheeler,” she sighed in mock exasperation. “What you will do to get attention, eh?”
He grinned. “Hey, it worked didn’t it?” He grimaced as a barrage of pain radiated across his stomach. Linka’s brow creased in concern. She hoped Gi and Kwame were not too far away.
The Heart Planeteer emerged from the guardhouse a second time, carting a large carry box. He laid it next the woman and knelt down beside her.
“How bad is it?” Ma-Ti sent as he rummaged through the kit for necessary items.
“It is too hard to tell. The entrance wound is not so bad, but I need to check for an exit wound. I do not like to move him, but I am afraid he will lose a lot of blood if we do not. I hope Gi and Kwame arrive soon.”
“Anybody ever tell you guys it’s rude to speak telepathically in front of people?” interrupted Wheeler. His voice was breathy and tight. “Care to let me in on the party?” Ma-Ti gave a small apologetic smile. Linka frowned down at him.
She studied his face for a moment. Pain pulled at the corners of his mouth and eyes, though his blue eyes still sparkled, albeit less brightly than usual. At the Russian’s expression Wheeler’s face straightened. “So, tell me doc, how bad is it?” She was sure she heard his voice shake.
Ma-Ti passed the blonde a combine dressing. Wheeler’s eyes lingered on Linka’s hands, slick and bright with his blood. He swallowed. Linka cleared her throat, regaining her composure and deftly recalled her emotions. It was the logical Linka, the analytical, no-nonsense Linka that spoke. “You have been shot, Wheeler.” She ignored the derisive look he threw her. “I need to check for an exit-wound. If the bullet has penetrated all the way through we need to stop the bleeding. Either way, I need to bind this so you do not bleed out.”
“Oh.” He was quiet a moment, the impact of her words filtering through the haze. “I was hoping maybe it was just a flesh wound? You know, a really painful flesh wound… Well, it can’t be that bad, can it?” The American moved to sit up, but hot pain tore through him and he cried out, slumping back into the dirt. “Fuck,” he panted. His vision wavered and dimmed as waves of nausea washed through and around him. He squeezed his eyes closed a moment. He looked up at Linka, his face serious and white. “The son-of-a-bitch shot me, you believe that? He shot me! ” Linka saw the panic that flitted across his face. Ma-Ti felt it, and realised clearly, for the first time, just how much the team were rallied by the Fire Planeteer’s persistent optimism.
Ma-Ti cast his mind out to the two Planeteers flying at top speed to meet them. Tired and drained, it was a comfort to meet the strength and calm of the Earth Planeteer’s mind. “We are almost there, my friend. Gi has called the paramedics and the police. They should arrive soon.” Ma-Ti sent his thanks and broke the link. He relayed the information to Linka.
“Help is on the way, Wheeler,” she informed him gently. She looked down at her hands pressed against his belly, frowning in thought and biting her lip. “I do not know how far away they are. If the bullet went through we need to stop the bleeding.” She gave Wheeler an apologetic look before looking to Ma-Ti. He nodded his agreement.
Linka gingerly worked with Ma-Ti to move the American onto his side. She winced when he gave a shuddering groan. With Ma-Ti supporting him, Linka drew back Wheeler’s jacket and inhaled sharply at the dark stain that soaked his shirt. With a frown she peeled back the bloodied material and paled at the torn flesh that lay beneath.
She stared at the wound a moment, unable to fathom how one small object could do so much damage, so easily, so quickly. She was surprised Wheeler was still conscious. She tore her eyes away, mentally scolding herself for wasting precious time on idle thoughts.
“Ma-Ti, pass me another combine dressing. A bandage also. I am hoping I can bind this to keep it in place,” she instructed without looking up. She worked to keep her voice level, but Ma-Ti caught the tightness of her voice and watched her carefully as he passed her the dressing. He glanced down to where her hands worked, catching a glimpse of the wound before she could cover it with the heavy gauze. His eyes widened at the sight, his brows drawing together in concern. Wheeler groaned and clenched his teeth as Linka applied pressure to the gunshot wound. His breathing was becoming more rapid, more shallow. His body shook more noticeably.
Linka swore quietly in Russian and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, marking her brow with a dark smear of blood. “There is so much blood. I do not know if I can stop the bleeding. I do not have training for this, Ma-Ti. I do not-” She inhaled a shuddering breath before continuing. “I do not know if I can stop the bleeding.” She stared hopelessly at the reddening gauze beneath her shaking hands. She felt sick and dizzy and on the verge of crying. Her nerves were frayed and her resilience fractured.”I do not know what to do, Ma-Ti.”
“We just keep applying pressure, Linka,” the Ma-Ti said gently. “It will be ok. Here.” He wiped the blood from the woman’s face with a piece of gauze and gave her a reassuring smile. He returned his hand on top of the other against Wheeler’s stomach, warm blood seeping between his fingers.
“Stupid,” mumbled Wheeler. Ma-Ti and Linka looked down at him, brows wrinkled. They glanced to one another, confusion and concern in their eyes. “So stupid,” continued Wheeler.
Linka opened her mouth to speak but her voice failed her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What is stupid, Wheeler?”
“He still had the gun.” Wheeler’s voice was husky and thick with pain. “He coulda shot one of you. He still had the gun. I walked away. I shoulda made him drop the gun.”
Linka looked worryingly to the Heart Planeteer, but remained silent. Wheeler was beginning to go into shock and time was running short. If the paramedics didn’t arrive soon…
The high-pitched thrum of the Geocruiser broke through Linka’s dazed reverie. She barely registered Gi and Kwame running from the aircraft; barely noticed them halt at the body of the security guard with horror on their faces. She looked up when a whimper sounded from Gi’s lips.
“No, no, no, no,” sobbed Gi, hands covering her mouth as she stared at Wheeler propped against Ma-Ti’s legs. “This can’t be happening. Not again.” Tears welled in her eyes and she buried her head into Kwame’s chest. The Earth Planeteer wrapped a comforting arm around her.
“He will be alright, Gi. Wheeler will pull through,” Kwame said reassuringly to her. He looked to Linka questioningly. The Russian gave a minute shrug in response and dropped her eyes.
Trying to bring hope and comfort, Kwame informed Ma-Ti and Linka, “The paramedics are almost here. We saw them as we flew in. There was a road-block… an accident of some sort... The police were just behind them.” He glanced to where the gunman lay motionless and bound.
“I don’t understand how this could happen. The recycling plant hasn’t even started operating yet.” Gi’s voice wavered as she fought to keep back the tears. Ma-Ti was too exhausted to attempt to reason an answer.
Wheeler groaned faintly. Linka chewed her lip and readjusted her hold on the blood-soaked gauze. It must have hurt him to breathe because he was taking short, shallow breaths. Tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed them shut. Ma-Ti’s forehead was creased and his face was drawn and pale.
The piercing wail of sirens drifted towards them. Linka looked up at the sound, relief sweeping through her. The Planeteers all looked to each other, hopeful and relieved. Wheeler groaned and shifted. His heels scuffed in the dirt, sending up dust. Warm blood seeped through Ma-Ti’s and Linka’s fingers.
“Wheeler, help is here,” Ma-Ti said. “You just need to hold on a little longer. Wheeler?” The boy looked down. Wheeler was losing consciousness. Ma-Ti looked up at Linka. They shared a look full of fear and worry. She looked towards the approaching ambulance anxiously and chewed her lip, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Kwame gently eased Gi from his embrace. He squeezed her shoulders briefly before jogging towards the paramedics climbing out of the ambulance. Gi sniffed and hugged her arms around herself. Her lip quivered as she stared down at Wheeler’s still form.
Linka and Ma-Ti watched and moved in a daze as the paramedics pried them away from Wheeler. The Heart Planeteer grasped Linka’s hand, though she barely noticed. She watched them load the American onto a stretcher, an IV line running from his forearm and an oxygen mask over his face. She felt disconnected from what was happening. She was tired - so tired - and maybe if she went to sleep she could wake up and things would be fine again. The buzz of noise as the paramedics worked and relayed his condition filtered into the background.
Gi stifled a sob and stepped around to hold Linka’s other hand, interlacing her fingers through the other woman’s. How could this happen again? How could it happen to one of their own? Why hadn’t Gaia stopped it? She looked up at Linka. The Russian’s expression was unreadable, her eyes distant and unfocused. Her face was grubby and pale; blood smeared her forehead and her clothes. It was sticky and damp against Gi’s fingers, but she didn’t care.
Ma-Ti was barely able to stay upright, exhausted, shaken and drained. His head throbbed violently against his skull and behind his eyes. He felt detached from himself; felt like something was missing and disconnected. Everything around him moved in slow-motion.
“Sir, I think we need to take a look at that cut. It looks like it might need stitches. Sir? Sir?”
He didn’t register the paramedic talking to him until she put a hand on his shoulder. He came back to himself. “Huh? Oh…” Ma-Ti looked to Linka, her hand still clasped in his own. He didn’t want to leave them; he desperately needed to grasp onto the connection.
The paramedic glanced to Linka and back to Ma-Ti. Her expression softened. “Why don’t you both come with me. We can see to both of your wounds.” Ma-Ti looked to Gi, who nodded and gave him a watery smile. He followed the paramedic, Linka trailing numbly behind him, still holding his hand. As they headed towards the ambulance, Ma-Ti spotted Wheeler’s ring on the ground. He tugged Linka after him and stooped to pick it up. He put the ring in his vest.
Kwame was talking to the Police that had finally arrived, gesturing towards the bound man now sitting propped - and awake - against the wall of the guardhouse. Gi wandered over to stand beside Kwame, pointedly avoiding the bloodied body. She kept close to the tall African, hugging herself, and waited for a break in the conversation.
“Kwame, the others have gone to the hospital. We should follow.” He nodded and took a last glance towards the body
~~~*~~~
“Thank you for your cooperation. If there’s anything else you can think of, here’s the number of our precinct.” The policewoman handed Linka a card and gave a small nod to Ma-Ti before leaving the waiting room with her partner in tow.
Linka leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair with a sigh. She glanced to Ma-Ti. He reached a hand to the stitches along his hairline with a wince.
“Are you ok, Ma-Ti?” Linka asked gently. The boy shrugged in response and stared down at his feet. The Russian rubbed a thumb over her salved wrists.
“I could not stop the gunman,” Ma-Ti said finally. “I tried to. I tried to go into his mind, to convince him to stop. I do not think he was well. His mind was confused. I looked into him and all I saw was anger…” He rubbed his eye with the back of his finger. Linka nodded and studied the scuffed checkerboard vinyl tiles.
Gi nudged Kwame as a surgeon approached. They all stood and waited anxiously for news.
“Surgery went well,” said the doctor. “He’s recovering now. He’ll be a bit groggy from the anaesthetic.”
“Is he going to be ok?” asked Linka. “He lost so much blood…” She hugged her arm.
“Fortunately it was a through-and-through gunshot wound and missed the major organs and abdominal aorta. We had to give him a blood transfusion; the abdomen is highly vascular, so that’s why there was so much bleeding.”
“When can he go home?” asked Gi.
“He’ll need to stay in for a couple of days. We’ll review how the wound is healing and he should be discharged soon. He’ll need to take it easy for a few weeks.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said Kwame. “When can we see him?”
“You can go in now. He’s in room 304 on the South ward. Just remember he’s had major surgery so he needs to rest. The nurses will let you know when visiting hours are up.” The doctor gave them a smile and left them to find Wheeler’s hospital room.
~~~*~~~
The voice over the loudspeaker announced they had fifteen minutes until visiting hours ended. A nurse was making her rounds. She would soon usher them out so she could take Wheeler’s obs and give him more pain medication and antibiotics.
Gi hugged him gently. She sniffed and gave him a watery grin. “I’m glad you’re ok. Always the centre of attention, eh Wheeler?” He gave her a tired grin in return. She waited by the door for the others.
Kwame gripped Wheeler’s hand. “It is good to have you back, my friend.”
“Thanks, man,” Wheeler rasped.
Kwame wrapped his arm around Gi’s shoulders and guided her into the hallway.
“Hey babe,” said Wheeler tiredly. Linka sidled up to the side of the bed and took his hand. “Don’t suppose I could get you in one of these nurse’s outfits? I did take a bullet for the team.”
“Bozhe moy,” she muttered, though it was half-hearted. “I am glad you are ok, Wheeler. What you did was foolish, and you could have died,” she said bluntly. More gently she added, “But thank you.” She hugged him and laid a soft kiss on his cheek. “Rest up, and we will visit you tomorrow.” She squeezed his hand before joining Gi and Kwame in the hallway.
Ma-Ti moved to Wheeler’s bedside. “I picked this up for you. I thought you would like it back.” He held his fist out. Wheeler lifted his hand and Ma-Ti dropped the Fire ring into it.
“Thanks little buddy. I felt kinda naked without it. If you know what I mean?” Ma-Ti smirked in response and nodded his agreement. Companionable silence hung between them, the beeping of infusion pumps and heart monitors resounding in the background.
“Hey, Ma-Ti,” said Wheeler quietly. “Uh, thanks. You know, for pulling me back. I owe you one, man.”
Ma-Ti returned an understanding smile in acknowledgement. “Anytime, my friend. Anytime…”
Wheeler rested his head back into the pillow and closed his eyes, weary and exhausted. The Heart Planeteer took his leave, eager to curl up in the hotel bed waiting for him. Eager to put the day’s events behind them.