“I ever tell you about the time I died?”
Poor, poor RUIN. In the battle against his booze-soaked mind, chivalry stood victorious, but even when the muddy-minded mercs left their carousing comrades in their proverbial ‘dust’, chaos, as it often does, followed in their wake.
“What kind of a topic is that for an impromptu stroll?” RUIN asked incredulously, vision still swimming as he wiped his signature Aviators on the front of his jacket. “How much of that poison did you drink?”
Swaying with every step, GAMBLER merely stared a hole into her escort–but in place of the usual mischievous twinkle sat a somber, almost resigned haze… like that of a dead fish. “... Did I?”
Oh for crying out… drawing the liquored-up lady closer to him so as not to let her stumble into an open maintenance shaft, RUIN merely gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. The Recreation Module was long gone now, and their meandering had brought them to a pathway bordering a jungle of massive churning tubes tangled up in each other like an industrial ball of yarn. A coolant junction, his cloudy mind eventually recalled, not much to look at, but…
“You didn’t,” RUIN sighed as his fellow wanderer skidded to a halt to examine the scene like a dog sniffing a hydrant, “But… but who cares about death, really? We’re alive, aren’t we? Better than some of our foes can say. We’re here, and we’re drunk, and…” RUIN blew a booze-scented breath in the pipe’s direction. “... And we’re looking at… at PIPES. Boy, aren’t we a fun pair…”
Who cared about death, really? RUIN did, not that he dared to admit it. If vulnerability was a rabbit, GAMBLER was an owl–and while her teasing never got too malicious, he knew the girl well enough by now to know she was never the one to miss out on an opportunity. Forcing a serious conversation out of the chainsmoker was like squeezing water from a rock… and about half as enjoyable.
All the same, her recent behavior had him worried, and why shouldn’t he be? Seeing his–well, whatever she was to him–coughing and wheezing and bringing up mortality out of the blue was like watching an alligator crossing the street… and using the crosswalk, to boot!
It was unnerving, to say the least, but RUIN was determined to get to the bottom of it. Call it concern, call it a habit from his big-brothering days… whatever the reason, RUIN didn’t want to let this one go. They had already shared so much already–what’s a serious talk or two going to add to the pile?
“You… worried some of the others,” He began in a cautious voice, tiptoeing around his actual feelings, “Of the mercs, you know.” GAMBLER’s dreamy gaze traced around RUIN’s shades as if searching for some kind of answer.
“... Oh no…”
Oh yes. “Well… not… not TERRIBLY,” He backpedaled, knowing damn well that if anyone was truly worried about her they didn’t speak up too much about it, “But… you were coughing up a storm during the mission… and when we returned and you scurried off, well-”
“Look.”
Growing up with so many siblings had left RUIN with an abundance of patience, especially around women, but somehow GAMBLER always spent it to the very last drops. Following her dead eyes, RUIN’s fell upon a peculiar, but not unwelcome sight: from the pipes came an almost ghostly glow–not enough to warrant concern, of course–just enough to remind the merc of the picture books his older sister used to show him as a kid and the images held within. ‘Fireflies’, he thought as he and GAMBLER watched the spectral lights dance across the pipes, just like fireflies…
… Some folks believed they were the spirits of the dead. That’s what the book said, at least. Lost souls searching for a way to the hereafter.
Creepy stuff…
“Yea…”
A choked-cough squeezed free of RUIN’s lips when he realized what he’d said out loud. “Err,” He stammered, “It’s… what I meant to say was-”
If the girl was listening, she didn’t show it. Plopping onto the cold, metal floor like a kid at a picnic, GAMBLER patted the floor next to her until her walking partner joined in. Spirits of the dead or not, the glows gained some company, if only for a time. The floor was cold–cold enough to register even in RUIN’s inebriated state–but sitting silently next to GAMBLER watching pipes was a welcome reprieve.
“Plague.”
Sometimes RUIN wondered if they all had the right callsigns. She had a knack for ruining moments–an ill-timed barb, a snappy joke, some playful flirting–so when the words left the girl’s lips, he laughed, but the look etched into her drooping expression when he sent her a sidelong glance was stony as it was serious.
“Killed me. Killed everyone. Nice and slow…”
It was easy for RUIN to forget GAMBLER was a veteran. Not nearly as ancient as SCARAB or OGRE, nor as unhinged as FAMINE, PILLOW, KRAB… she didn’t fit the classic picture of a grizzled, world-weary soldier–but every now and then, whether it was a sparring match like the one he’d just witnessed or fighting alongside her on the battlefield he’d spot it: reflex. Muscle memory. Killer instinct baked into a body small enough to pick up and carry around. Beneath that bubbly exterior, he soon realized, was a scarred, rusty old core. Trauma buried… but not forgotten.
“But… you’re still here.” He innocently replied. RUIN learned long ago that people were more likely to share info if you acted clueless, and his gamble, unlike so many since they’d met, had finally paid off… though not in the way he’d expected.
Like an eel from a coral crag comes a small, gloved hand–too fast to evade, not that he planned on it–and with alarming coordination for a drunken damsel it clasped around his wrist and yanked his own clammy hand over to…
To…!
The knot in RUIN’s throat went down hard as he gulped in shock–the back of his palm lay upon GAMBLER’s chest–her tough, but tiny heart beating through the plugsuit like a drum!
“Here too. Buried deep. Too deep to pluck...”
With the initial shock gone, RUIN watched as the girl took his hand on a brief tour orbiting around her body–not to touch, but to trace. To follow…
“Your… heart?” He asked when no better words came to him. GAMBLER’s head bobbed up and down.
“Goes everywhere, y’know… blood.” She slurred as she gently rested her head on his shoulder, “Head. Feet. Front. Back…” A rueful sigh left her lips. “Faulty filters. Dust got through, Plague rode on in with it.” She smiled. Sad. “‘Trojan Horses’. Always set Owens off on a tear… ‘This flimsy shit couldn’t block a fart!’” GAMBLER recited in a gruff, almost cartoonish voice! “‘Let alone a dust storm!’”
“Gambi…” He began as puzzle pieces began to fall into place in his head, “That coughing… It’s… not the cigarettes, is it?”
Her head shook back and forth with a Cheshire grin. “Gonna… gonna suffocate that E.T motherfucker… smoke ‘em out…”
A chill ran down RUIN’s spine as the final puzzle piece fell into place. “Wait,” He stammered, “so she’s… The Plague is…!?”
“Not contagious… don’t… don’t worry your pretty lil’ head…” She chided, reaching out to give his fleeing form a gentle pat, “Woulda’ gotten a whole lotta calls from a lotta boys n’ gals by now if it was…” The ensuing laugh comes out haughty… almost bitter. “... Just… me. And the squad… Faulty filters… Trojan Horses…”
“I don’t… I don’t get it!” RUIN replied, eyes wide and mouth agape, “What are you doing j-just… JOKING around!? You need to see a doctor, Gambi! They can clone you new lungs! A-and a heart, too, and some more… w-whatever you need! Hell, they can do it in an hour-”
“We did.” She shrugged, leaning into his side with a resigned sigh. “Copallo, Hennig, the whole… the whole squad did–ones that didn’t get blown, fried, or chopped up, at least...” Her finger danced back and forth like a pendulum. “Slowly. Surely. Tried to scoop it all out–remove, replace–but blood?” Another wry grin fell upon her grim, swaying face. “Blood goes everywhere...”
Questions sprouted up in RUIN’s head like weeds. How was she still here? WHY was she still here? Why hadn’t the company doctor said anything? Would she turn into one of those things RUIN had mulched on the field? Did anyone else know? How…
The only question he dared to ask got stuck in his throat.
… How long? How long until…?
The girl merely smiled from his shoulder–her cheeks still burning red from the liquor’s harsh kiss.
“...Until I’m not.”
The corridor grew colder as her answer settled in amongst the steel, wire, and pipes… RUIN wasn’t stupid–he knew what her answer meant, of course, but thinking about it made his head pound and his eyes burn… but for now?
They were together. And while the two hired killers weren’t entirely warm, they weren’t cold…
And for RUIN, that was enough. For now, at least.
… Who cared about death, really?