Accident || Open
The base had been quiet for a while, all things considered. Archer was used to hallways filled with loud, rambling, obnoxious grunts, Proton’s shenanigans, the parties in the break room. All the years spent subjected to that level of energy rendered it all a comforting whiter noise, sounds Archer grew to expect and assimilate as part of his norm. Quiet days became simply uncomfortable; he’d have thought the lack of noise would have put him more on-edge. In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have dismissed the sounds he did hear so easily.
Assassination attempts on high-ranking members such as himself were rare, but they weren’t unheard of; in fact, Archer could recall a small handful of attempts on his life from jealous, desperate subordinates, though none of those had left more than a scratch upon him. This time… Archer was decidedly less lucky.
He never saw their face—they were cowards. They attacked him from behind. But they were smart, because they bothered to requisition a firearm with a silencer, and Archer knew no one would have heard the attack. He, himself, had thought he imagined the sound in the split second before he felt the piercing pain in his shoulder, then again in his back. They were a terrible shot; yet, still, down he went, stars exploding in front of his eyes, and away they ran. For a good long moment, all Archer was aware of was pain, and he clutched at his shoulder as he tried to press past it, tried to get himself up and find help.
Aaaaaaaand, that was when the wheezing started, the coughing, the general pressure in his lungs. Not now, oh Lugia, now now, the executive found himself thinking. Desperately, he scrabbled for his inhaler, but simply ended up slipping and falling back, hard, on his shoulder, resulting in a pained whimper. Still, he managed to grab it, took a shot—it didn’t help. The more he struggled, the more it felt like he just couldn’t keep any air in. Oh, Lugia, this wasn’t good.
With a half-mangled groan, Archer let his head flop back onto the linoleum, cursing violently under his breath as he tried to keep himself calm. Someone would find him. Someone was bound to be around. Anyone. A few depths breaths reminded him quickly that he really ought not to be moving, but once again he attempted to push himself up along the wall, managing just to get himself sitting; that would have to do, for now.
“Is anyone there?” he managed to choke out. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just bleed to death all over the floor. Someone tell maintenance I’m sorry for me once I’m gone.” Huh. Looks like his sass filter was off, for once. Well, at least he was getting something good out of this.
