The Paradox(es) of Heroism

[Catche Jagger]

The gunshot brought with it an eruption of pain in Gabriela’s shoulder that pierced deep and spiraled outward in a wave of fire. Her footing faltered, stumbling backward, legs nearly disappearing out from under her, only stopping when her back met a table.

“Motherfuck!” She howled, face twisting in agony. Even following her screw up with Sarah, Gabriela had managed to avoid serious injury, which was better than Anthony could say, judging by the look of him.

But now Gabriela had been shot by her own teammate, her shoulder a spider web of nerves that screamed at her for not letting the divine maniac die when she’d had the chance.

[RetroVenus]

Gabriela, in typical fashion, spat Anthony's question right back at him and berated him on his stupidity. But she kept going, laying out to him how he missed his opportunity to kill Diana right then and there, how she had no choice but to save him. He told her off, and then—

Hoisting up the rifle, Anthony fired.

The bullet sliced through Gabriela's shoulder. She stumbled backwards, bumping into a table. She screamed in agony.

A low humming sound caught Elliott-Blair's attention. Looking down, he saw that the end of the his stun baton was illuminated in a brilliant white light. He must be holding down the trigger.

He turned back to Anthony. That's right, he can't kill anyone with the baton, but that's where the knife came in.

Elliott-Blair took off in a dead run at Anthony, fingers never once leaving the trigger.

[Rattlesnake]

"Whoah, hey hey hey, this is not fuckin' it man!

"Shoot the other, whatever, we're not fighting between crabs, alright?"

[Applesintime]

Anthony racked the bolt back, the blood pounding in his ears obscuring the sound of the empty case thumping off a table. Aiming it at Gabby again, his finger tensed on the trigger-

Then movement to his left got his attention, and he whirled around to see Elliot coming at him with a strangely long stun baton; he could see the thing humming and bathing itself in a white light. Ben chimed in, too, seemingly mad at him shooting a teammate. Anthony had one answer for him.

“This is for fucking Hannah and Beau!” Anthony shouted, both at the duo of players and Ben, before letting off a shot in the vague direction of Elliot, not caring if it missed him or hit him or what, and making a run for the exit. Gabby had a gun, and if he took out Elliot that might give her time to come back to her senses and shoot him. Shoot Gabby, and he might get electrocuted by Elliot and then shot with his own rifle. She wanted him to play smart? He was going to play fucking smart.

He’d catch her later. For now, he was going to run.

((Anthony Golden continued in The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living))

[Catche Jagger]

With the support of the table, Gabriela managed to raise her (uninjured) right arm, leveling her gun at Anthony. Or, at least, she leveled her weapon at the place where Anthony had been. Spooked by Elliott or Ben, or both, he’d run off, firing a parting shot into the middle of nowhere.

“Great job with that one, Cuthner. You’re really mentoring this team to-“ Gabriela spoke as she started to step away from the table, only for the pain in her left shoulder to surge again, eliciting something like a choking sound as she stumbled forward, curling up as she landed in her knees.

It was completely fucked up, getting shot by her own teammate. What a fucking joke. How could she be so fucking stupid?

Gabriela closed her eyes, grit her teeth, scrunched up her face that it might hold back the whole world if it had to.

“Elliott!” She barked, voice cracking, “Get a fucking medkit! We gotta… we gotta…”

Deep breaths in and out proved ineffective at easing her suffering.

“Fucking NOW!”

[RetroVenus]

Anthony was ready to fire a second shot into Gabriela, and probably would have been successful had Elliott-Blair not charged at him. Or his mentor barking at him for his stupidity snapped him out of his rage. Maybe a bit of both.

After declaring that his next shot would be for Hannah and Beau, Anthony fired in Elliott-Blair's direction. The bullet missed it's target's head by about a foot.

That should be fine, right? Anthony, that fucking coward shot at him, but he missed. Anthony Golden, sitting on his high horse, preaching to the masses about how he alone can decided who goes to heaven and who goes to hell, declaring that he was sinful—

Anthony made a dash for the nearest exit, and Elliott-Blair gave chase. Even after he slipped around the corner of a hallway, Elliott-Blair didn't, wouldn't let him out of his sights.

"FUCKER!" he yelled, "Come back here!"

But the sound of something organic hitting the floor followed by his name made him stop. He turned, stepping back into the ruined banquet hall. Gabriela had fallen, having curled into herself as she lay withering on the floor. She snapped at him to get a medkit.

...Right, helping Gabriela was more important than hunting Anthony down. He was likely to get himself killed doing that.

Throwing down his stun baton, Elliott-Blair briskly made his way to Gabriela, shrugging his daypack off and swinging it in front of him to rummage through in one quick movement. Kneeling down next to her, he opened the first-aid kit with one hand, keeping the other on the overflowing daypack.

[Rattlesnake]

"Man's out of his fuckin' gourd."

A long sigh issues from Gabriela's collar.

"Keep it elevated if you can; that'll help the bleeding. Direct pressure n' all that shit. And don't even bother trying to dig anything out, trust me. Doctors'll take care of that once you're out. Best you can do's give 'em something that's not infected to work on.

"Oh, and hi, both of you. If you heard what I said earlier, don't worry about it. If, if you didn't hear what I said earlier, don't worry about it."

[Catche Jagger]

Ben decided to stick around and try to smooth things over, trying to be charming or some shit. What a slimeball, all jokes after telling his little maniac to attack Elliott. Gabriela didn’t want to hear it. Ben Cuthner was nothing but a stupid gimmick.

“Shut the fuck up, Ben.” She snapped, not interested in hearing any more useless bullshit, her attention turning to Elliott.

Her right hand shook as she attempted to feel her injured shoulder, to get a better understanding of the damage done. It didn’t help that Gabriela hadn’t really looked at the wound herself, hesitant to learn how dearly her hesitation had cost her this time.

Stupid. She was so fucking stupid.

“Elliott, I’ve got the… fucking one good arm now and I-” Gabriela stopped for a moment, letting out a shaky, barely controlled breath. Her shoulder screamed and she quickly closed her eyes again.

“I need you to help me fix it up, okay? It’s gonna- fuck! Just- I need it.”

[RetroVenus]

A voice emitted from Gabriela's throat, but it wasn't hers.

Elliott-Blair could hear the long, tired sigh Gabriela's mentor gave in wake of Anthony's rampage. The damage was done, however, and he knew that time would be better spent rattling off tips on how to stop the bleeding. He acknowledged Elliott-Blair's presence too, telling him not to worry about what he had said earlier.

Because he had told Anthony to shoot Elliott-Blair. Nothing to be upset about, though. He was wearing the colors of a different team, of course he would be targeted.

Gabriela was having none of it, as she told Ben (that was his name, Ben) off. Typical of her, but that bite that was so often in her words was gone, replaced by something hurt and scared.

She felt around the injury with her good arm, catching his attention. There was nothing special about the bullet hole — it was the same cavity of cloth and skin and flesh and blood. He'd seen this enough times to be normalized by it. But then she opened her mouth and he was forced to recognize that it was Gabriela who was wounded. She was the one shooting people, she wasn't supposed to get shot!

Gabriela explained to Elliott-Blair that he had to take care of the wound, stumbling over her words all the while. He nodded, pushing his daypack off to the side, letting it's contents gently roll out.

He let a shaky breath out. Okay. He took a first-aid course in his freshman year, and Ben also gave him advice. This could work. This could still work.

Elliott-Blair reached into the medkit, put aside his inhaler and it's three remaining doses, then rummaged around until he found the antiseptic wipes. First, you must clean the wound...

((Elliott-Blair and Gabriela continued elsewhere...))