Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 51 - Army Parasite

Italic was the prompt. It is a mess of a drabble, but enjoy:

"It was a mistake, just a simple mistake! Please, don't."

The commander clicked their tongue, shaking their head. "It's not the first one. But I am certain it'll be the last."

Xander backed away, steps slow and careful as his commander turned to the desk to pick up this datapad. The overwhelming need to escape pounded against the bars that whispered death. The back of his throat hurt. Running away rarely solved anything. 

An alarm went off. 

Something in the back of his brain flipped, and in the chaos, he ran. Miraculously, he escaped. That wasn't a good thing. 

He was going to have to do something spectacular not to get assassinated.

--

A gunshot killed the man holding the whip.  Xander panted, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth. Oh good. The people who wanted him to die had killed the person torturing him. That was a good start. Gunfire echoed behind the open door. Clear-cut orders with machine guns rattling against concrete and metal. The door shut, and the room quietened, but the shooter remained. 

"Hello, coward."

"Scott?" Xander managed to lift his head but could not see much in the dark. 

"The one and only," Scott's voice echoed. 

"Liar," Xander wheezed, slumping. He wasn't the 'only', not with that echo. He couldn't quite hold the rigid position with his shoulders screaming in pain. He choked again, the chain pulling too tight to breathe. He tried to pull back, but he couldn't do it. Blood filled his mouth, and red blinded his vision. 

The cursing didn't reassure him. The cell had no intention of keeping him alive longer than it took to get answers. If he was lucky, Scott would make it a quick death despite his desertion. Tears rolled down his face, but the metal around his limbs released. Strong arms caught him before he could fall too far and gathered him against solid armour. 

"Easy coward, I got you. They did a number on you," Scott said, voice light but grip firm as he rubbed Xander's back. The echo was gone. 

"Coat," Xander choked, blood spluttering from his lips. 

"Shush. Don't, not now. We need to get you to base."

"Coat lining, USB with information about the cell," Xander forced out, splattering blood across the floor. He yelled as Scott pressed on one of his shoulders. The man's fingers traced over the limb.

"Your shoulder's dislocated."

"Coat."

"I won't forget your coat, but I'm trying to move you without making this worse," Scott said, serious as he checked. Xander shivered as a scan went through him, triggering the nanite hub at the base of his neck. It went inactive because of his desertion, but it wasn't something that could be removed.  "I'm going to pop them back into place."

"Both?" Xander said. He debated pleading for Scott to shoot him in the head. That was going to hurt. 

"Both," agreed Scott.

Two pops of lightning smashed against his senses. Another body appeared warm and was not wearing power armour but was sporting the right colours. He went deaf. Pain overtook his senses, but he didn't blackout yet. Damn drugs, the torturers wanted him alive and awake to talk.  Not that he could focus with the rush of adrenaline and ringing in his eyes. His eyes blurred, and the world turned into vague shapes and colours.