Dead Men Walking: Retrieval
KC-775 was, first and foremost, a professional. His first priority was, always and forever, the assignment, and his chief satisfaction was in a job well done, reflected in a glowing performance review from his supervisor. However, that did not mean he denied himself additional, simpler pleasures as the opportunity arose.
Taking in the beauty of the local scenery was one he particularly enjoyed. The sides of the granite gorge towered over him on either side, decorated in an intricate pattern of streaks and cracks. The air had an open freshness to it, accentuated by the faint, damp smell of the river.
He tread carefully as he walked along its slick, rocky shore. Even this far downstream from the falls and rapids, the strength of the current was clear, and his cloak and cowl were less than ideal swimwear.
It was a lovely sound, the river. A gentle, trickling sound. The fact that it belied a strength capable of sweeping a person off their feet and carrying them away only made it somehow more beautiful to him. It was the contrast that did it for him. Gentle serenity and deadly strength, wound together in a single body.
He was so caught up in it, he forgot to watch his footing, and almost tripped as his boot found something that wasn't rock. He threw out his arms, managing to right himself before he went into the water, and felt a wave of relief replace the panic he hadn't had time to process. Then he saw what he'd tripped over.
"Oh, there you are!" he greeted with a gleeful voice.
Crumpled and wedged between two rocks on the river bank was a young man in dire straits. The water around him swirled reddish pink with blood, and broken arrow shafts protruded from his shoulder and torso. He wore a metal breastplate over a fur coat and pants, which were probably great for staying warm most of the time, but sapping his body heat now that they were soaked. The pallid skin and blue lips weren't good signs either.
KC-775 placed two gloved fingers to the man's neck to check for vitals, half expecting the poor man to be dead. He almost fell back in surprise when, before the sensors in his gloves could even finish getting a reading, the man let out a gasp for breath the quickly devolved into pained wheezing.
"By the Book, you're alive!" 775 celebrated. "Well, you certainly are sturdy fellow, aren't you?"
"Gruh… da…" he moaned between sputtered breaths.
"Oh no, no, no," KC-775 insisted. "Save your breath, good sir. You're going to need it."
The sensors finally completed their scan, revealing bloodloss, multiple broken bones, and a collapsed lung. Taking in the information displayed on the inside of his mask, KC-775 frowned. This part of the job had always been his weakness. No matter how many training courses he took and certifications he received, he never felt comfortable with extraction-site care.
He pushed through, reaching into his cloak and producing a particularly wide gauge syringe needle. Taking a moment to still his shaking hand, he jammed it into the dying man's chest, and was rewarded with an audible hiss as the trapped air escaped. Immediate crisis solved, he produced a brace to stabilize the dying man's head.
A woman's voice echoed through the gorge. "Eric? Eric?"
"Oh my, that sounds close," KC-775 said, picking up the pace of his hands. "We'd better get out of here quickly, before someone sees us."
He tapped the side of his mask, signaling Door Control. "This is KC-775. Collection is secure and awaiting extraction."
There was a pause, during which the woman's voice kept getting closer. But, just as KC-775 was starting to get nervous, a doorway of pure white light appeared, and slowly passed over them before disappearing and taking them with it.