"Become a firefighter, they said..." ~ Additional notes
Here are some additional things I thought of while writing this one-shot.
Alex and Jamie are first-response firefighters. Their job entails going into incredibly dangerous local disaster areas and scenes of big accidents and making sure they're safe for the bulk of the rescue services to roll in.
In the story, they're scouting out a building that had a small cargo carrier crash into it. The reason the area is so dangerous that it requires scouting is because the reactor inside the carrier got damaged and has leaked plasma everywhere.
Alex and Jamie use a system based around pressurized noble gasses to get into the dangerous area. It's not meant to put out any fires or secure any structures -- it just deprives the fire of oxygen and the plasma of heat long enough for them to pass through.
Alex and Jamie are best friends and graduates from the same branch of rescue services. Jamie was a top-ten-percent-er, Alex... wasn't.
Alex is Greek. Jamie was born in the States, and moved to Germany. She's of Puerto Rican descent.
The story takes place in Strasbourg. Alex and Jamie speak German in the story.
Writer's Block: "Become a fire-fighter, they said..."
Based on this
They stop at the roof to peel the hot tar off their boots and gloves, relishing the fresh air that feels like an arctic breeze despite the sun bearing down on them. Jamie’s sitting on the spare tank that had been dropped in for them, helmet off and the moisture in the air is making her hair frizz, to the point where it looks singed. She’s cursing as she stomps on the last lumps of sparkling plasma stuck to her palms, in what looks like a spectacular attempt at breaking all the fingers in her right hand.
“I hate two-cycle reactors”, she mutters, finally getting the glove off and twisting it under her toes in a display of spiteful irritation. “I hate them. I hate them and everything they represent.” She picks the cooling glove back up, and looks at it and the edge of the roof with such clear intention that Alex is surprised when she sighs and pulls it back on. “How’s the building?”
“The top two floors are a molten mess of concrete and metal”, Alex responds, discarding his gloves and fishing for a canteen from the pouch on his hip. “So, probably we’ll get a DNE on that one. Radio’s dead, and the short-band amp was on the roof the carrier went through. We should probably double back down the elevator shaft, check for survivors, and regroup with Alpha on ground level.”
He takes a swig from the canteen and tosses it to Jamie, who groans and takes a drink in a way that suggests she’d hoping the content would be something stronger. “How’s your gas?” he asks when she tosses the canteen back.
“I dunno. If going down is like coming up, I’m gonna need a refill. Yours?”
“A little better”, he starts to say while Jamie detaches the little compressor pack from her back, propping it up against the gas tank and fiddling with the valves until a tube comes off the nozzle on her sleeve with a pop and a hiss. “But don’t hog everything, if we have to vacuum a whole hallway again, I want to be prepared.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever.”
Alex sighs and sits down heavily, watching as Jamie attaches the tube to the spare tank, eyes on the pressure gauge, while he removes his own compressor pack. “You really should put on a mask – if that tube comes loose, you’re gonna have blisters all over your pretty face.”
“Go fuck yourself and your pretty face”, Jamie responds absently, and there’s a muted hiss as she breaks the spare open, filling her pack. “And while you’re at it, check my pack for leaks.”
Alex nods automatically, tossing his pack over and catching Jamie’s. There are new burns on the chassis, but nothing compromising. He checks the cut-off valves and the seams, and when satisfied, tosses it back over. “We’ll take the staircase to the fifty-third, check that the cables haven’t melted off the ceiling, and surf down if they’re safe. After that—oh, come on!”
Jamie grins his way, poised to throw the spare tank like a javelin, aiming at the smoke still billowing from the corner of the building. She throws the tank with a flick on her wrist, making it shoot through the air with a loud hiss, and explode in the middle of the smoke cloud some fifty yards away. The gas expands, pushing the smoke away to reveal the pattern of plasma splashes, still glowing a muted green against the concrete.
“What? It made me feel better!” Jamie protests when Alex gives her a long-suffering look, as they shoulder their packs and put their helmets back on. He doesn’t grace her with a response, just rolls his eyes as they pull the seals on their suits, the repellent material shrinking and conforming around their body armour.
They approach the door to the servicing shaft they had entered the roof through, comms chattering through their connection-establishing routines. Jamie stops, with a hand on the door handle, and looks back at Alex as the comm chirps OK in his ear.
“I’ll take point?”
“You take point”, he confirms, braces himself and aims the nozzles on his hands towards the door. “You’ll make better chips than me.”
“Hardy-har”, Jamie responds. She waits for him to nod, then yanks the door open and ducks in in one fluid movement, a burst of pressurized gas pushing aside the smoke and killing the few embers still scattered on the floor from their trip upwards. Alex takes one look over his shoulder at the roof, then ducks in after her, pulling the door closed behind him.
