momento mori

in the name of hippocrates, doctors have invented the most exquisite form of torture ever known to man: survival.

[thexsurvivors]

Damien didn’t sleep much—didn’t allow himself to. When he did, he did so in fifteen to thirty minute increments and his hand never left his weapon. The rest of the time he spent checking the other rooms to make sure Rohan was still there, but more importantly that the other two additions weren’t doing anything they weren’t supposed to.

They were seemingly harmless (but nothing in this world was harmless), one of them was always up as the other slept. Damien didn’t acknowledge them as he walked through the building. Mostly for his own self-preservation. Just knowing they were there made him feel murderous.

He was waiting for the other ball to drop.

Apart from his utter lack of sleep and the fact that he was getting more irritable each time he forced himself to wake up, the night was quiet. The rising of the sun came without an ambush, betrayal, or gunfire.

It meant nothing to Damien.

Fireflies were smart. Just because nothing happened in the past few hours didn’t mean that everything was safe and clear. Last he checked head Firefly chick still had a face he didn’t trust and her little miniature was still a wild card.

Just thinking about the two in the next room causes his blood to boil and he has to calm himself down before he does something stupid. His hand twitches to pull the trigger of his gun. It would be so easy—so quick.

The only think stopping him is Rohan.

With a frustrated noise, Damien pushes himself off the dingy ass couch he was laying on and make his way through the main room (ignoring the other two like he does best) and to where Rohan is. 

Rohan is already awake when Damien walks in. She’s lacing up her combat boots, preparing for the journey to come. She looks up at him when she’s finished and looks him up and down analytically. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” she asks him.

“You brought strangers,” he replies, making his way to the other side of the room and looking out the window. “You’re telling me you slept the entire time?”

“I would have,” Rohan replies as she stands up and makes her way over to him. The sunlight shines on her and makes her eyes squint. She lifts her hand up to block it. “But someone—Damien—decided he was going to have a temper tantrum and slept in a separate room.”

They both knew that wasn’t the only reason, but neither of them were going to bring it up. 

He brings his hand up and grabs her wrist in order to un-shade her eyes. The sun brings out the golden tones deep within her eyes that reminds him of a simpler time. 

Rohan looks away and then goes to grab her jacket, slipping it on. “As fun as it is to watch you mentally run down memory lane and remind me that you have emotions not shadowed by survival, we need to get food and supplies.”

Damien lets the memory pass and focuses on the task at hand. “Those extra ration cards are coming out of your stash—they can starve for all I care.” 

The two of them walk back out to the main room, Rohan standing in front of him as a barrier. Rohan tells them that they’ll be back and for them not to leave. “Unless you absolutely want to—I’m sure the guards won’t notice.” Rohan shoves her elbow into him and then drags him out of the room and downstairs.

It’s a little over half an hour before they’re back. Rohan tosses some bread, jam, and water at the two girls. “Alright, where are we headed?” she asks, regarding the question mark that is what they’re supposed to be smuggling. Something Damien already went off on her for not knowing when she admitted it to him earlier.  

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

There’s so much ice in Damien’s gaze, but Sam doesn’t let it get to her. What she does let instead, are her thoughts. What on Earth could have happened between him and the Fireflies that the sight of them makes him clench his fist? That the sight of them encourages more violence than this world requires? Sam can’t find any reason in their cause. They’re rebels, sure, but smugglers aren’t exactly law-abiding citizens themselves. It has to be more personal. Something between him and some other Firefly, and his grudge has extended beyond that. Maybe Sam will have to ask Cal about it, if she ever gets the chance.

She plans on it, always does. But she’s not someone who believes she’s invincible. That’s more up Cal’s alley. He’s more likely to know the ins-and-outs of bad history than she is, but all of that is really the least of her worries.

Mila, on the other hand, doesn’t know what to think. Her nerves are little bundles on fire, watching carefully over the two people she may or may not have to travel with. Rohan seems capable and willing. She seems more level-headed than her partner, who makes Mila clench her jaw when he switches his gaze to stare her down. Her instincts tell her not to let him win, so she doesn’t. She stares back, refusing to break eye contact until he does. It feels like a weight is lifted when he finally looks away.

The both of them are grateful when Rohan intervenes and tries to talk down whatever thoughts may be brewing in Damien’s mind. Neither of them say anything while they’re talking it out, and Sam tries to relax her posture for a moment. Her side is stinging and burning, but it’s the price to pay for getting herself into this situation. Now all that matters is the getting out.

Her luck might be turning, though just barely, when Rohan agrees to the deal. It comes just in time as more soldiers, which means they all need to move. “C’mon,” Sam says to Mila, just a habit, as they follow Rohan and Damien up toward another hideout and away from prying eyes who’d love nothing more than to put a bullet in every Firefly head they see.

Sam does as Rohan instructs, settling down on the couch with Mila, who checks over her wound. While they have moment, Mila decides to change the bandaging to get it dry again. Sam does the talking.

“Everything’s going to turn out alright. They’ll have their lovers spat, and then this will all be over. Smugglers can’t pass up a deal like this.”

Mila doesn’t shift her eyes, only cleans up blood and re-wraps the bandages. “They don’t even know what they’re smuggling. Maybe they will change their mind.”

It’s possible. Sam knows it. She’s worried about how Damien might react to not only having to work for the Fireflies, but having one right along side him. A Firefly that he has to actually protect.

“They’ll do it for the guns,” she says again. Mostly Sam is just trying to believe it herself, trying to will it to be true.

When she hears the sound of the shower turn off, Mila purses her lips and puts everything away. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Not wanting to be caught looking so vulnerable, more vulnerable that she already does, Sam stands up before Rohan and Damien make it back out to where they are. Mila joins her, a feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her that none of this is going to work out the way they all hope.

“So,” Sam starts, wanting solid confirmation, “we have a deal?”

Their shower is relatively short; they fight over who gets to use the last of the travel sized shampoo, and Damien loses. He gets out when the water turns an unbearable cold, but Rohan stays a little longer. As a child she grew up in Alaska, so it made her feel at home even if just for a minute. Back when the last thing she had to worry about was catching a cold or going to bed when it was still light out and all she wanted to do was play in the snow. 

“Where’d you get the guns?” Damien asks, raising his voice to overpower the shower. 

“Had some patrol to get rid of,” she replies as she cuts the water off. She stands there a little longer, watching a few water droplets fall from the shower head. She hopes she’s making the right choice in trusting Sam, but she doesn’t have time for doubts now, she’s come too far.

When she gets out, Damien tosses his towel at her. She wraps the towel around herself and catches Damien looking at her. Except he isn’t seeing her, he’s seeing someone else. The faraway look in his eye only lasts a second before it vanishes.

“Thanks for doing this,” Rohan says, pretending that she doesn’t notice—like she always does. “I know It’s risky but—” she shrugs helplessly. Technically, Damien didn’t agree in so many words, or really any at all, but he stopped arguing with her about hallway through their shower.

Rohan watches as Damien grabs one of the guns and heads to the door, he stops before going out of it. Damien looks back at her and says, “This is the last time.” He doesn’t expand on his words or his meaning, but he doesn’t have to—Rohan knows what he means. She follows him out to the main room where Sam and Mila are waiting.

Damien says nothing when he enters the room, doesn’t even acknowledge the two women’s existence as he strolls right past them and into a different room. Rohan’s gaze lingers in his direction for a moment before focusing her attention back on Sam. “We have a deal, get some rest. You’re barely useful now, we don’t need you lacking sleep to top it off.” She glances back over to the room Damien went to then turns and heads back into the room she came out of.

This had been a long and exhausting night and Rohan knew the journey to the capitol building was going to be even more so. Before exhaustion takes her, she's reminded by the fact that she still doesn’t know what they were supposed to be smuggling.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

The path Rohan leads them both down doesn’t worry Sam nearly as much as what they might find at the end of it. In all her years climbing ranks within the Fireflies, Sam has met her fair share of people who have hated them for whatever reasons they mustered up. They started as rebels, wanting to maintain all three branches of judicial government before everything fell into zone-designated martial law, where anyone with a badge or a gun ruled over the rest of them. Just like all things did, that fell into chaos. Creating any wide-spread agreement was no longer in the cards, not after the world crumbled.

After that, the Fireflies just expanded where they needed. They were always the resistance. Always fighting ‘the good fight’. These days, they just want peace. They want a cure, they want a better, easier survival. They want to rebuild. The military, the zones, the hunters, they don’t want any of that. Their reasons are their own, and Sam has no interest in trying to change minds anymore, but the hatred runs deep. If Rohan’s partner really hates the Fireflies as much as she’s letting on, there is no telling what danger they might be in.

But they’ve gone this far. She can’t turn back now, can’t afford it, and so they keep snaking their way through the quarantine zone. Both her and Mila keep their heads down and their footsteps quiet, following Rohan’s lead and keeping a look out. The deep throb in her graze is starting to subside, and for that much she can be thankful for.

She just hopes she doesn’t get anything worse when their pace slows, and it looks like this is it. While Rohan draws her gun and kicks in the door, Sam backs up a step and makes sure that she’s standing in the way of Mila.

The relationship between Damien Thorn and Rohan is immediately evident… but less so than his feelings for her. The sight of a gun pulled and aimed has Sam leaping into action, pulling Mila down toward the ground by the time the gun fires. The sound it makes when it lodges into something behind them assures her that neither of them were hit, and Sam’s about to pull her own gun when, somehow, Rohan manages to talk Damien down.

“Sam what the fuck!” Mila’s teeth are grit, her voice angry but tone soft.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she reassures, watching the situation like a hawk. Whatever his trauma with the Fireflies is must be brutal, and now she worries that this plan is going to run into the ground… just like so many others.

But Rohan seems to have some sort of control over the situation. Enough that it encourages Sam to get back up onto her feet, though she keeps Mila behind her and at an arms length. At the sight of a kiss, Sam isn’t so curious about how Rohan is able to maneuver a negotiation like this.

At least she gets some time to talk. That’s all she needs.

“I get it. Neither of you are my biggest fan, but I’m not empty handed here. I need to get something smuggled out of the city and into the capital building as soon as possible.” She presses against her wound again, and thinks, just maybe, the bleeding has finally stopped. “I’d do it myself, but I’m not exactly… in good shape. And I don’t have a lot of people around here anymore to do it for me.” Damien would probably get a kick out of knowing that most of them have been killed, so she leaves that part out.

“You’d be compensated. The few people I do still have here just got a shipment of guns and ammo. Handguns, shotguns, rifles. They’ll all be yours if the job is done, I’ll make sure of it.”

Rohan feels Damien tense beside her the minute Sam starts talking; she glances down to see both of his hands in fists. They are practically shaking with anger and restraint. Still, he listens to Sam speak. Or at least Rohan thinks he does. For all she knows Damien is playing out scenarios of which to get around her and murder the both of them. Yeah…now that she thinks about it that’s probably exactly why Damien stares at her so intently.

The moment Sam stops speaking, Rohan glances at Damien once again, trying to gauge any reaction that isn’t murderous. He doesn’t speak, he just stares at Sam. Rohan gives it a minute, feeling her entire bodying getting more impatient and anxious with each silent moment. 

Finally, she thinks he’s going to say something, but instead he just switches his gaze to Mila. It’s the same murderous one he looked at Sam with, but—.

It’s the smallest of flashes, but there is something else present in the way that Damien looks at her. Something Rohan can’t place and something that barely lasts a second before it’s gone. Glazed over once again by nothing but pure ice and fire melted together to become something dangerous and unstoppable.

Rohan’s body tenses, the silence putting her on edge, but the look in Damien’s eyes makes her body grow colder by the second. She can’t stand it much longer and when Damien silently switches his gaze once again to Sam, Rohan snaps.

“Okay, enough, you little psycho,” she says in a frustrated tone, stepping in front of him and blocking his line of sight so that he has to focus on her. The look in his eyes only dials down by a few percentages and her body involuntarily sends a shivering jolt through her system that reaches every nerve ending in her body. “The job really isn’t that hard to comprehend,” she finally says, her voice sounding less like a scolding mother and more like an annoyed business partner. “Our clients just happen to be Fireflies.” Damien goes to say something, but Rohan holds her index finger up and shakes her head slightly. She presses said finger against his lips and he jerks his head away with a low growl.

When Damien looks at her again, he seems calm–the look in his eyes is hollow and nonexistent. His hands are no longer in fists, instead they are relaxed at his sides. A smile slowly creeps onto his face as he lifts his chin slightly and encourages Rohan to continue. She’s reached extremely dangerous territory, but she’s not afraid to cross the line.

Damien would never hurt her and they both know it.

Lowering her voice, Rohan says, “We’ve done worse for worse people.” Damien looks like he wants to argue that, but doesn’t. He clenches his jaw instead. “We need the guns Damien; you know we need the guns. They can get us more than we would get working sporadic jobs for the next few months.” It’s true and Damien knows it’s true, but he won’t admit it or acknowledge it.

“I’m not working for them,” he says simply and with a bit to his words.

“I’m not asking,” Rohan replies without missing a beat.

They both stare at each other, their gazes heavy and electrified. Neither of them wants to break, but they hear voices outside the building and jump into survival mode. Damien is first to turn and run up the stairs, already on the way out of the building and onto one of their many hideouts throughout the quarantine zone.

Rohan turns to Sam and Mila and hears a door being opened downstairs. “We’ll do it,” she says quickly before taking off the same way Damien went. She knows they will follow. As she runs she thinks about the fact that she went into this willing to let Damien decide what they did and that if he said they weren’t, she wouldn’t do it. She didn’t know what changed, but Damien could be so fucking stubborn that it brought her own out in crushing tidal waves. She refuses to let him win this round.

They made it to an old apartment building ten minutes later. Damien was already there and the shower was running. Rohan motions to the beat-up couch, “Make yourselves comfortable, we’ll leave in a few hours before the sun rises; when the guards are switching shifts.”

She doesn’t give them another thought as she goes into the next room and shuts the door behind her. She goes into the bathroom, the words “fuck you” are written in the steamed mirror. With a roll of her eyes, she unslings the guns that she’s been carrying from around her and puts them on the counter. Rohan slowly undresses and makes her way into the shower, pushing Damien out of the way so that the scolding hot water hits her instead. It’d turn ice-cold in a few minutes, but right now it feels amazing.

“Don’t fight me on this,” she says, knowing damn well Damien is going to fight her on it until the moment they leave and well after it.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme: 

“I’ll be fine,” Sam retorts. The hand she’s offering is on the opposite side from her wound, and she’s had some experience with working around injuries like this. Mila, on the other hand, isn’t so sure, and leans down to help with getting Rohan up.

Both girls feel a jolt of panic when it sounds like people are approaching, and fast, but neither of them budge before getting Rohan up to the top floor. Mila catches a glimpse of the soldiers clambering through the door, guns at the ready. When Rohan tells them to run, they don’t need to be told twice. Both of them follow her lead, going as fast as they can with Sam’s injury protesting the whole way, but they keep up across rooftops.

Up the ladder is easy, but the drop is one that Sam knows might incapacitate her. It’s possible she’ll be able to keep going, but it’s possible that she’ll pop all of her stitches and be in worse condition than she already is. Rohan’s quick thinking and alternate directions are appreciated, and Mila takes that minute to kick down the ladder they just climbed up in order to buy them some more time.

Meanwhile, Sam repeats the directions on her head, catching the bandages and nodding before Rohan takes off. It’s probably easier that they split up, just to divert the military’s attention, but Sam has her doubts on whether or not they will actually see Rohan again. But as it tends to go in this world, she can’t think about that right now.

“C’mon Mila, let’s go!” Her tone is hushed but urgent, following the alternate route and keeping her head down. Once they jump one more building, Mila looks back to see the soldiers make it up to the top of the previous building. With another canister on her, she takes a second to light it and throw, the hissing of the fuse turning into a small explosion that flashes in the night and produces a billow of smoke that should provide them with plenty of time to disappear.

But they’ll likely still be right behind them if they don’t lose the trail, so Mila runs and catches up to Sam. She can see the old theater up ahead, and Mila helps her with the final drop they need to take before they reach it. They both know that if they run into any infected that it will likely cause some trouble, but the coast seems to be clear for now.

They slow it down and quiet it down now that they’re in the theater, catching their breath and checking on Sam’s wound. It’s bled through her bandaging, but not badly enough that it needs to be changed right here right now. There will be time for that later. There will be.

“How do we know she’s not just trying to get us killed?” Mila whispers, moving through the old theater and finding their way back outside.

“If she wanted us dead, she would have just killed us. And maybe she is hoping we get killed on the way, but we’re out of choices here. We’ve lost a lot of people lately. There’s no one else to get you to the capital building.”

Mila has mixed feelings about her… condition. She’s angry that it’s put them in this position, and hopeful that it might take them somewhere else. Regardless, she doesn’t say anything.

“There’s the church. C’mon, we’re almost there.” Sam picks up her pace again, one hand keeping some constant pressure on her graze. She will have to make her way back to the remaining fireflies by herself if this all pans out, but it will be worth it once Mila is on her way toward the others.

By the time they hit the tunnels, she just hopes that Rohan is still here and still willing to go through with it.

Rohan turns at the sound of a small explosion and sees nothing but smoke.

She smirks.

Using the diversion, she drops down the side of the building she’s on and sprints towards the tunnels. They weren’t far from here, maybe ten minutes. Just enough out of the way and hidden among rubble of an old highway and unruly trees.

Rohan made it to the tunnels without a single problem – unless you count paranoia and lungs that were on fire. She blames the fact that she had smoked cigarettes since she was a teenager. That was one of the only good things that came from these past 17 years. It forced her to quit and her chances at relapse dwindled over the years.

A minimum of five minutes and a maximum of ten. That was how long Rohan was going to wait for Mila and Sam.

She starts pacing.

Rohan’s just about to leave without them when she hears footsteps approaching. Her gun is out swiftly, trigger ready to be pulled as the two women become noticeable. Her chest falls as she lets out a breath. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” she says directly to Sam. 

With her gun securely against her thigh, she turns back around and starts making her way through the tunnels. They are dark and eerie; they only sound present is the splashing of water as they all make their way through them.

Every step feels like the ticking of a bomb – the countdown dwindling faster and faster.

The pipes are a maze, but Rohan knows her way around and it doesn’t take them very long before they reach a ladder; above it is a manhole. She climbs the ladder and presses her palm against the cold metal in order to lift it up and make sure the coast is clear.

It’s late, which means that the curfew is in affect and as a direct result the streets are barren. Only the guards are present in the depths of the night. Usually she plans around the guard’s schedules and routes, but with the whole unexpected …partnership, Rohan has lost all semblance of time.

Pushing the cover off, she pulls herself up and onto the street. It’s out of the way of the main streets, which is why it’s so critical to know those tunnels front and back. Rohan offers her hand to Sam and helps her up and then quickly leads them through and around buildings, skillfully dodging patrol.

They reach a tall, rundown building secluded in the depths of the quarantine zone. The windows are broken or covered with boards, the brick walls dressed in moss and shaped by overgrown bushes and trees. The surrounding buildings mirror it. 

“Follow me.”

Rohan pushes the door open and it scrapes against the rotted wood floor. A bar, somehow still intact lines the room, but the alcohol that once occupied it is long gone and the glasses are shattered on the ground. They move past a broken pool table a few feet away and pieces of a disco ball crunch underneath her boots as she leads them to the stairs. There’s a stair or two missing and they look unstable—and they probably are—but it’s the only way to the second level. 

Once on the second floor they have to cross a makeshift bridge that consists of two long boards and cross into the abandoned brothel. She hears guards not too far away and picks up speed. 

Rohan leads them up another level, thinks she hears something, and holds her hand up signaling Sam and Mila to stop where they are. Silently, she reaches for her gun and takes a few hesitant steps towards the connecting room.

Kicking the door open, she comes face to face with a gun being pointed at her. It only takes a second before she realizes that it’s Damien (and vice versa) and they both drop their guard, exhale, and embrace each other.

“Where were you I wen—“ Damien, having pulled out of the embrace seems to finally notice that she’s brought company. Rohan watches him quickly process everything. The way his eyes go between the two woman and the exact moment he registers what—or who—he is looking at.

Within seconds, before Rohan can even manage a single word, a bullet is being shot from Damien’s gun. The bullet misses its target—Sam—and instead goes well above her head. His gun hits the ground.

He may be quick, but Rohan is quicker.

Also, he’s predictable.

She grabs his wrist as he makes way for his other gun. Her nails dig into his hands; she feels the skin break. “Damien, stop,” her voice is stern and commanding. He looks at her and she wishes he wouldn’t, not in the way he was. His cold gaze shakes her to her core.

“What have you done?” Damien says, his jaw clenched as he speaks, every word annunciated and dripping in lethalness. 

Rohan places her free hand on his chest, the other still holding her gun. She can briefly feel his heart angrily pounding away. “I got us a job.”

Damien laughs and the hollow sound bounces off the walls. “No,” he says, removing her hand and taking a step back. “You got yourself a job—there’s no us.” Damien reaches down and grabs his gun, his eyes are trained in Sam and Mila. The life in his eyes is still gone, just less so now.   

Rohan watches as Damien starts to walk away and makes a decision.

The sound of a gun being cocked grabs Damien’s attention as he stops in his tracks and turns around. Rohan has her gun pointed at him. Her gaze is unwavering. If he was going to act like a victim, she was going to treat him like one.

“You gonna shoot me? Really, Ro?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She cocks an eyebrow, challenging him.

Damien smiles and puts his hands up in mock surrender. 

Rohan looks behind her at Sam and Mila and then approaches Damien. Pushing him a little way back, she speaks to him in a hushed tone. “Just hear them out, that’s all I’m asking—we need what she’s offering.”

She plays her last card, using their complicated relationship, and presses her lips gently against Damien’s. “Do it for me,” she whispers against them.

“Three minutes.”

Rohan smiles briefly, reminding herself that she won the battle, but that the war was still ongoing. She leads him back to Mila and Sam (while keeping a safe distance) and says, “Tell him what you told me and do it quick, we don’t have long.” And she wasn’t just referring to Damien’s time limit or the fact that she wasn’t sure just how long she could keep him in line, but  rather the fact that just a few minutes ago there was a gun shot and surely guards would follow.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

Though it might be easier, just so she doesn’t get an earful from Mila, Sam is thankful that they have a minute or two to themselves. She’s sure that Mila has caught onto how the plan has changed, and Sam doubts that she’s too fond of it. At this point in time, they just don’t have any other options. This can’t wait. The more time it takes to get Mila back to the medical center the more time exists to allow something to go wrong. She can’t risk it.

Before she speaks, Sam clears the police station and glances outside again. All is quiet, and she holsters her gun once more. The graze in her side aches, but it’s better than it was. It takes her a minute to turn back to Mila, who is fiddling with the knife in her hand.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Mila glances upward, but it doesn’t last long. “Do you.”

“I can’t get you to the capital by myself. As it is I still have about a hundred things I need to see through back here.” She pauses and tries to relax her stance. “You know if I could take you I would.”

And she does believe that. It doesn’t mean she likes it. Sam’s the second in command, and the Firefly’s bases expand all across the United States.

“Yeah, I know. But the strangers you assigned to the job? Is that really a good idea?”

Sam sighs and applies a little pressure against her wound. “It’s not ideal, but they’re capable. They’ll do it for the guns, or at least Rohan will. It’s only a short few day to the Capital building, then you’ll be back in Firefly hands. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Mila’s still unsure and uneasy. For most of her life she’s either been alone, or with the Fireflies. “Let’s just get it over with…” She relents, shifting the backpack on her shoulders.

“And you know the rules, alright? Don’t say a word.” They’d probably kill her the second they saw that bite mark on her arm.

“Yeah, I got it.”

Rohan comes in not too much later, and Sam’s grateful for that. She even lets the dig go by without any sort of fight back. Everyone has their misconceptions about the Fireflies, so she’s well used to it. Sam just follows Rohan toward the back, making sure that Mila is right behind them.

Any other time and Sam wouldn’t have a problem with the labors of getting around these days, but the wound on her side loves to protest. But she’s got to get up there either way, so she doesn’t waste time when Mila encourages her to go first.

“Alright,” she grimaces, clenching her jaw and using both Rohan’s and Mila’s help up to the upper level. Mila goes next, much quicker and with a little help from Sam.

“Your turn,” Sam says, leaning down to offer her hand.

Rohan looks up at Sam’s hand and slaps it away with an annoyed roll of her eyes. “You want your butchered stitch job to bust open or what?” Not that she cares if it does or not, but they also don’t need a trail of blood left behind them and they didn’t have time to restitch her. She’s about to tell Mila to give her her hand when she hears the obnoxious clambering of multiple footsteps coming from the front of the police station. 

Looking down to her waist, she sees a red light blinking on the walkie-talkie. “Fuck.” Of course they were equipped with GPS and of course they activated it when they didn’t find it with the body. It was a rookie mistake and Rohan wasn’t a rookie.

The walkie-talkie is harshly thrown to the floor, shattering instantaneously and she grasps Sam’s hand without a second thought. Fuck the stitches. 

“Run,” she says at the same time multiple gun shots start going off. She takes the lead as she’s the one who knows where they are going. Also because she was going to keep going no matter what – she wasn’t stopping if one of them got hurt. 

Jumping across the first roof, she turns back to make sure they were still keeping up with her. She can see one of the soldiers being lifted onto the roof they just came from. She runs faster. There’s a ladder now and she climbs it with ease, crossing the roof and dropping down to the roof below. It’s a long drop and she rolls in order to suppress the blow.

Rohan turns to see the two women on the roof above and she doesn’t know if Sam can manage the long drop in her condition. Thinking quickly on her feet, she remembers the theater. “Keep going West – there are a few jumps, small drops, but they are mostly even and they have good coverage,” she tells them as she hears shots in the distance. “There’s an opening in an old theater.” Rohan digs into her pocket and pulls out a scarce rolls of bandages she found on her way and throws it up to them. “Once you’re on the ground, head North past the old church and find the tunnels – I’ll wait for you there as long as I can.” 

Their route would take them longer, but at this point what choice do they have? Rohan doesn’t wait for confirmation or for a response before she starts taking off, leaping across the next building. The longer they stand there, the more vulnerable they become.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

Sam and Mila follow close behind, the game of hide and seek with guards feeling like second nature at this point - especially since they have the word Firefly practically hanging over their heads. Sam has already had a close brush with a group of them today, and she’s really not looking for another one. Despite the rocky start and even the shakier ground, she allows herself to trust Rohan and let her take the lead for this.

The instructions she is given are repeated in her head. “We’ll be there,” she whispers. The cover of night will help, and with all the patrols in this area, she’s not expecting any run-ins with the infected.

Sam is about to signal to Mila and head off, but Mila takes a second to pull a canister out of her back pocket before handing it to Rohan. Sam’s surprised at the gesture, but doesn’t make any mention of it one way or another.

“This is a flashbang, if you need it.” Mila is good with tinkering, and she’s made too many of these to doubt how well they work. “Strike the match, light the fuse, and throw. It’ll be bright. Might even start a fire.” They’re easy to make and the ingredients easy to come by - she’s made and given these out to dozens of Firefly’s.

“C’mon Mila, let’s go,” Sam urges. Mila doesn’t waste any more time before she follows along, the two women disappearing South. They both keep a low stance, moving through the darkness and keeping their heads down. With only two guards to come across, they are both easily dodged with some careful timing.

But funneling into the old police station doesn’t make them feel any safer.

Rohan looks down at the item being handed to her – a flashbang she called it—and looks slowly back up at the girl. The girl. What the fuck was her name? She can’t recall it. “You could at least buy me dinner first,” she says sarcastically. Maybe she would appreciate it more if she wasn’t so untrusting, but that doesn’t seem to be happening anytime soon. Still, she manages, somehow, to say thanks – even though it’s followed by a “I guess” and sounds more like a question.

She takes the flashbang from her and watches them leave.

Her name is Mila.

Rohan looks back down at the flashbang. She feels something in her chest, but she doesn’t know what it is or why she feels it. She tosses the flashbang aside.

Once the two of them are well out of sight, Rohan looks around the corner again. There’s two of them now and they are closer. Rohan smiles. She closes her eyes, holds her breath, and counts to five – counts her heartbeat.  On five, she breathes out and turns the corner. She shoots once, twice -- two bodies hit the ground. 

Damien was the one that made her practice headshots, made her perfect them. Not that she was perfect at them by any means, not like he was, but in the past three years she has learned a lot and with the right spacing and distance, she could hit any target.

She stuffs her pistol into her holster and sprints up to the two bodies. She strips them off both of their guns and slings them over her chest. One for her, one for Damien. They guns are low on ammo and neither guard is carrying more, so they won’t last long, but it’s better than nothing. 

While making her way to the police station, she scavenges a house or two and comes up with some medical supplies. She figures it could help Sam, which will in turn help her and their situation.

Wanting to save ammo, she dodges the guards she comes across rather than taking them out. It’s all very quick and painless and she arrives at the police station with no hassle. She makes her way to the cells where the two others are waiting. “Glad to see you guys can follow orders well; guess you really are Fireflies.”

Rohan pushes past them and makes her way to the very last cell. There is a hole in the top. The makeshift ladder that was one there is gone. Leaning against the wall she laces her fingers together and looks at the others. “Up up and away,” she says before explaining that they have to hop building until they get to the tunnels.

[wnq-writers]

She was a fighter. She really was. I’ve watched people tear her down, and then ask for her help. And she would help them. She would spend hours helping them. I’ve always admired and hated that part of her.

r.k (via wnq-writers)

[ungifable]

[tenwordstory]

They asked what my greatest accomplishment was. “Surviving,” I said

-submitted by anonymous (via tenwordstory)

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

The answer isn’t one she’s satisfied with, not by a long shot. Sam knows that Rohan can’t have any idea of just how important this deal is, nor can she explain the extent of it, but risks are not hers to take. Losing Mila could mean the whole world losing a chance at finding some kind of hope and stability. Not this piss-poor version they’re living these days.

“We can’t risk getting killed because of some grudge, alright?” Her voice has a little more fire in it than she intends, but it’s mostly because of the work going into her wound. It doesn’t matter much either way, when static cuts through the three of them.

She stops short of saying anything else, listening in to the quarantine guards on the other side. Sam’s eyes meet Rohan’s when it becomes obvious who they’re talking about, and she knows what this means. No matter how low they lie, they are still too close to the zone. They’ll come looking through places like this. As much as it angers her, they can’t stay.

Mila hurries as well, quickly taping gauze around the wound and securing it. It’s not her best work, but it will keep it clean and keep it from bleeding much until she gets an actual doctor to look at it.

“Get your things,” Sam reiterates. Mila follows direction and collects up her backpack before double checking that her knife is accessible. Sam does the same, but with her gun. She puts a little bit of pressure on her wound, and despite the pain, she thinks she’s okay to travel. She’s got to be.

Sam moves away as if she’s taking a quick peek out of the window to reassess the situation, but takes a small moment to speak to Mila before they head out. “Stay right behind me, you hear me? You know the drill.”

Stay close. Don’t tell anyone anything. Don’t put any attention on yourself. Mila knows it.

“Alright,” she says, moving toward Rohan. “Let’s go.”

Gun in hand, Rohan opens the door and ushers the two of them out. If she wasn’t so focused on the whole not getting caught thing, she might have noticed that Sam and the girl didn’t take anything of significance with them. 

Rohan takes the lead. It’s what’s natural to her, but also she’s partnered up with an injured woman and a girl who is basically a child, so really, what choice does she have? She wasn’t going to get killed over these two. They definitely weren’t worth it and neither was whatever compensation she might get.

Pressing her back to the harsh brick wall, she brings her gun up by her face, breathes in deeply. She feels her heart pounding, adrenaline rushing. She lives for this, for the rush. Carefully, she leans and peaks passed the wall. The man is closer now, the flashlight on the end of his gun points this way and that as he searches for signs of life – or nonlife.

She pulls back and looks at the two others. “There’s only one right now, but more will follow, they rarely work alone.” She knew these guards inside and out. Knows their routes, their posts. “Head South for about 10 minutes, there’s an abandoned police station. You’re going to go in there and head towards the cells and wait for me there.” Rohan cocks her pistol. “I’m gonna buy us some time.”

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

Jumping through hoops isn’t Sam’s specialty. She would much rather do this on her own than get a couple of strangers involved, but what choice does she have? She’s in no condition to make the trip, and not only that, but there are a couple of associates here that she needs to get in touch with. With Mila’s case needing as much attention as possible, there just isn’t enough time. There’s never enough time.

Rohan’s mention of her partner’s feelings towards the Fireflies doesn’t exactly help matters either. Sam knows better than to be too surprised, but she wonders just what gave him the notion that he needs to kill a Firefly on sight. “Then maybe we’re better off with just you.”

Two people will be quieter on the move, though there’s a drawback of less cover and less back-up. Ultimately, this just has to get done. Mila needs to get to the other Fireflies as soon as possible. It’s a fact that Mila knows, her world as she knows it having dissolved into that and only that about two weeks ago. She doesn’t say anything just yet, still carefully working on pulling together Sam’s wound with stitches.

“But if you want to talk to him about it, we can’t leave until daylight.” It’s a long trip to the capital building, and while night is good cover from some of the military out there, it’s where the infected thrive. “Before that, I do need to know if you’re in or if you’re out. We can’t waste a lot of time here.” Whether she decides to do this on her own, or decides to go see if her partner is willing to come along, Sam needs to know if she needs a back-up plan or not. 

Sam’s probably right. She would be better off with just Rohan. However, Rohan won’t do it without Damien. They rarely do jobs separately, especially when they are as big as this one was seemingly turning out to be. Besides, she doesn’t trust Sam and she definitely isn’t going to put her life in the woman’s hands. The only person she trusts with her life is Damien and even that took a while to establish. 

“I’m in,” she says finally, “but if my partner isn’t—or y’know, if he kills you—then I’m out.”

She’s seconds away from finally addressing what she’s expected to smuggle (and why it’s so important) when the walkie-talkie attached to her hip makes an ugly, static noise, followed by a male voice.  

“This is Ramirez, we’ve got a man down over here in sector 12,” the voice says, “the bloods still fresh.” 

“Do you think it’s her?” Rohan’s eyes shoot up to meet Sam’s. 

“There’s no way that crazy bitch it still walking around.”

“Yeah, cause you’re just the best fuckin shot the world’s ever seen, huh?”

“Better than you’re dumbass wha—“ 

Their pissing contest is cut short as another voice speaks over them with obvious authority. 

“Find her,” the man says coldly and to the point, “or don’t return. 

The line goes silent and Rohan exhales.

She turns around and glances out the window once again. The glare of a flashlight hits her from the top of the street. “We have to go.” Her gun is already in her hand within seconds and she’s twisting on her new silencer. It’s not a perfect fit, but it will have to do. “So I suggest that you finish your sewing project and grab whatever the hell it is you need now.”

There are tunnels about thirty minutes from here that will lead them back to one of her and Damien’s bases. Damien will be there, surely waiting, and surely pissed off.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

Sam doesn’t object, nor react much, to Rohan’s quick hand on her arm. Rohan doesn’t know what she’s walking into here, and of course she’s going to want some kind of upper hand. Sam just doesn’t want to call too much attention to it, wary of how Mila might respond. She’s smart, focused more on what she can do with her head than anything else, but she’s got a short temper.

Luckily, Mila is too distracted with wanting to help the flesh wound that still stings against her side. The first-aid kit is dug out from her backpack, and Mila returns to Sam’s side to help her settle in on the tattered couch up against the wall. Sam can tell that Mila is uneasy around a stranger, but there’s not much she can do about it right now. It’s hard enough trying not to wince when her shirt is lifted away from her wound, an angry red gash stained with blood.

Mila scrunches her features and steadies herself before she hurriedly gets to cleaning it. Sam has to grit her teeth through the sting of peroxide, but it helps to focus on her words. “Yeah, I got that.” Her next breath is sharp, but the worst of it is over.

“I need you to smuggle something out of here. To the capital building. I hear you’re good at that.”

The words freeze Mila up as listens in while she works, eyes trained and focused while she threads a needle and gets some gauze ready. Her gut is telling her that something else is wrong, something way past a graze from a bullet, and she thinks she knows what.

“Like I said, you’ll be compensated. There’s a stash of guns and ammo from a recent shipment with an associate of mine, I can take you there and show you.” None of this is far from where they are. The quarantine zone she’s relatively sure that Rohan and Damien reside in is just about twenty minutes away, and the shipment is not far from there. “I also hear you don’t work alone.”

Rohan wants to ask why Sam can’t ask anyone else, after all there are plenty of smugglers out there, but she already knows the answer. Whatever the job is, it’s important and its obvious Sam only wants the best for it. Wants to make sure the job is seen through properly and completed. She came to the right people. Maybe.

The thought does, however, make her slightly hesitant. What could possibly be so important?

Sam starts to talk about compensation, reminding Rohan why she’s going through all of this in the first place. If only that goddamned, lying, scheming son of a bitch didn—

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes out mid thought. The mention of Damien was a slap across the face. She had almost completely forgotten about him throughout this little adventure. He was probably wondering where she was – she wasn’t supposed to be out this long. Just a simple savaging job. 

Her jaw clenches as she works things out in her head. Nothing is set in stone. Rohan can still walk away and hopefully never see these two women ever again unless it’s on Wanted posters. And yet, regardless of the storm that was currently brewing, Rohan has to at least try. This wasn’t just important for the two women–Rohan wonders what their story is–but it was important for her and Damien too. Whether he’ll see it that way, however, is debatable. Actually, no, no it’s not—he’ll never see it that way.

“I can’t promise you that he won’t try to kill you on sight,” she mentions casually.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

“Not dead yet.” And Sam intends on staying that way. She has built too much up to fall like this. Her, Cal, and countless others. Even Mila’s doing her part… even if Sam doesn’t know what that might mean, exactly. They’ll figure it out when they get there, and right now, that’s the biggest battle.

The obstacles stay tame. A tripwire, some rough terrain. Posters with her and Cal’s faces on them litter the walls and the ground, but Sam’s become so accustomed to them that they don’t even faze her. They’re nearly there, and that’s all that matters. She’s worried about her blood loss, about how much dark red her shirt is starting to sop up. When her pace gets too quick, she can feel her skin rip and tear in protest. Just as so many other people in this world do, she bites back any show or sound of pain.

Her heart leaps into action when Sam hears the same thing that Rohan does, and while it’s unlike herself to stay out of the action, she does as she’s told. One wrong step from her could put them in a lot of danger, and Sam doesn’t need any more risks today. She stays behind cover, quietly armed with a knife just in case, and stays there until Rohan returns. She doesn’t bother asking who, or what. It just doesn’t matter.

Right now, she focuses on quiet breaths. Deep in and deep out, with more pressure on her wound. God damn guards. They’re so self involved in their martial law, so desperate to stay in control, that they can’t even grasp that the Firefly’s cause was never out to get them. These days it remains warped, turning into more of a war, but what isn’t?

At least Rohan comes back without too much time wasted, and Sam staggers back up onto her feet. “Thanks,” she says in a breath. “I’ll be just fine. We’re almost there.”

If she says it, she must believe it. If she believes it, she can make it happen. Just a little bit further.

The clickers she could have done without, but it doesn’t matter. She can see the safe house just up ahead, something so unsuspecting but it’s always been a half-way house for the Fireflies. It’s a safe place to hole up for a little while, in between quarantine zones, camps, and bigger bases.

When Rohan pounds on the door, Sam’s features pull in some annoyance. “Hey, c’mon,” she mutters, before taking over herself and doing a series of knocks that Mila knows.

Who is, and has been, on the other side of the door. Despite being on edge, Mila’s followed orders and stayed out of sight. Her fingers are tracing the outlines of deep bite marks that are starting to heal over, but she pushes her sleeve down the instant she hears the pounding. It startles her— until the familiar knocks replace them.

She rushes toward the door, unlocking it only to find two surprises: an injured Sam, and a stranger right alongside her.

“Sam? Christ! Are you okay?” Mila only eyes the other woman, trusting Sam’s judgement on whoever this is.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine. You still got a steady hand, right?”

Mila nods and retrieves the first-aid kit.

“This is Rohan,” Sam starts, her voice trailing off. “She’s an… ally.”

Rohan’s eyes roll dramatically as Sam takes over knocking on the door. Of course they have some oh-so-special knock. God, what was this, the girl scouts? Regardless, Rohan pays attention to the knock. Repeats it over in her head a few times. It could come in handy later down the road.

In preparation of what lies on the other side of the door, Rohan’s hand rests upon her pistol, the other grabs Sam’s free arm. She loves hostage situations. They tend to be the best leverage.

To her utmost surprise, a girl stands on the other side of the door. She has to be at least in her early 20’s. “Christ,” Rohan mutters to herself as she pushes Sam through the door. She keeps her eyes trained on the younger girl. Her fingers tap against her weapon.

As the girl goes to grab the first-aid kid, Rohan lets go of Sam’s arm, leaving traces of blood from her earlier kill, and starts surveilling the area. Checking for hidden weapons, people, anything that would tell her that this was a trap and to shoot them both.

She finds nothing.

“Hah,” Rohan peers out the window –checking for potential threats– before turning back and correcting Sam, “more like a mutual means to an end.” Rohan crosses her arms and leans again the wall. Her eyes stay trained on the girl. If she didn’t trust Sam, she trusted her little friend far less. “Can we hurry this up? I don’t have all day.” In fact, she doesn’t have a day at all; the sun is set and the sky darkens by the minute.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

During the moments that time seems to stand still, Sam desperately tries to consider what her other options are— even if she has to make them up. If Rohan turns her back on this deal, she still needs to get back to Mila. From there, maybe she can managed to get patched up before they track down some other local Fireflies. Most of them have cleared out of this area by now. There’s not much left for them here, and now they have bigger problems.

But for now, this is Sam’s biggest problem. She’s almost certain that Rohan is going to turn her down and disappear, but the weight is lifted off her shoulders when she actually relents. A sigh escapes Sam’s lungs, shaky but as quiet as she can make it. God damn, this thing hurts.

“I hear you,” she says. They don’t have a huge ways to go, but they do need to manage to sneak around patrols. They all know her face and won’t hesitate to shoot on sight, but Sam imagines that Rohan knows that already.

The help is unexpected, but not turned away. She shifts into it, trying to ease as much pain as possible. “There’s a Firefly safe house not far from here, that’s where we need to go. I’ll explain everything there.” Or, well, as much as Rohan needs to hear.

Mila might not be too happy about it, but they’re out of options and running out of time.

“We’ll take some side routes. This way.” She hurries despite her injuries, leading Rohan toward an alleyway, pushing through a gate and continuing on forward.

Rohan attempts to keep her pace fast, but steady enough that Sam doesn’t drag them both down. Luckily, she has experience with holding and injured someone up while traveling and Sam keeps up well enough on her own.

“Not bad for a dead girl,” she comments as they push their way past a gate

Leaves of dying trees crunch beneath their feet as they move and the wind chills their skin. It’s dreadfully silent and every breath seems too loud. Every heartbeat feels as if it will announce their presence to listening ears. The sun is setting.

The two women step over a trip wire and continue down an empty background behind abandoned buildings. There are Wanted posters decorating brick walls and surely enough Sam’s face inevitably pops up on one of them. However, it’s the ones a couple of buildings down that causes her to stop.

On the wall there are only two posters remaining, the others having been ripped down. Sam’s face looks back and them and next to hers. Above each poster, someone took the liberty of spray painting a crown resembling that of a king and queen. Underneath the posters is the infamous quote: Look for the light.

Just as Rohan is about to open her mouth she hears the faint sound of a clicker. Within just a few seconds the sound is ceased. “Someone’s here,” he says quietly as she rushes the two of them up behind the first concealable object she finds and releases Sam. “Don’t move.”

Reaching down into her boot, she pulls out a hunting knife and moves forward, staying crouched. Following the previous sounds, she grips her knife tightly and after a few minutes sees a man in obnoxious camouflaged cargo pants. He’s talking into a walkie-talkie before he sets it down.

Rohan sneaks up slowly behind the man, careful not to make a sound. As she gets close she notices a gun in his hand; it’s equipped with a silencer. Incentive. The moment she gets close enough, she reached out, and in one smooth motion, thrusts the knife into his throat. Her other hand wraps about his mouth to stop any sound in the case he isn’t alone. His hands grasp desperately at her arm but soon they give up and fall. Easing him to the ground, she feels his body relax and become heavy. She pulls her knife out and drops his head to the ground. 

Her hands are covered in blood. She wipes them off on her jeans and puts her knife away.

Before she rushes back to Sam, Rohan clips the walkie-talkie to her jeans and stuffs the silencer in a pocket. Sam looks worse when she returns. “You know, I really hope you have medical aid at this little safe house of yours, because you look like a fucking corpse.” Rohan helps her back up and continues on the path that Sam maps out for her. 

About ten minutes and three clickers later they reach the moss-covered building hidden in plain sight and Rohan pounds loudly on the door.

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

Resources become scarcer and scarcer in this world, so Sam has to trust that her offer is one that can’t be passed up. With the Firefly’s being so widespread, they have supplies to spare. She is sure that Cal won’t mind passing up a small arsenal and a couple big boxes of ammo just as long as everything continues without a hitch. At least without any hitches that are any bigger than the one Sam already got herself into.

She doesn’t expect to be trusted outright, but at least they’re still on similar pages. “Does it look like I’m in any position to be playing games, here?” Sam knows when she is outmatched. With an injury and a weapon that isn’t even drawn, she knows that Rohan could end things right here and now. She has to have some faith that it won’t come down to that.

“Look, I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t serious.” Her hand presses against her wound again, and Sam takes in a sharp breath. “You don’t know me, and I don’t really know you. That doesn’t mean we can’t help each other.”

Cautious as always, Sam rechecks her surrounding. There’s still no sign of anything but them and the wind.

Her eyes shoot back toward Rohan, holding her gaze. “What’s it going to be?”

Damien would have shot her. 

He might not have killed her (a few years ago, maybe), but he definitely would have contributed and been on his way without a care in the world. Or so he’d say. However, that’s where the two differ. Rohan hadn’t been a part of the Hunter’s for a good few years before she met him. It wasn’t as easy for her to kill someone for no reason. Survival? Battle? Not a problem, she was made for it. Shooting a woman who is already in critical condition and surrendering? That was another story.

Rohan’s index finger twitches toward the trigger, feeling an invisible pull. She hears a voice inside her head that tells her to end it. No negotiations. No blind trust. No mercy. It sounds a lot like Damien.

 Her hands start to shake and she hates it. She can’t do it. She’s not him.

“Fuck,” she mutters angrily as she drops her stance and seamlessly places her pistol back into the holster securely wrapped around her thigh. “I swear to god the minute you so much as breathe the wrong way I’ll drop you in a ditch and let you bleed out.”

Rohan takes Sam’s unoccupied arm and places it around her neck, her own arm going around the other woman’s waist in order to support her. “Where are we going?”

[thexsurvivors]

leadmehcme:

While Sam has never met Rohan Patel, or her partner, Damien Thorn, she knows a fair bit about the both of them. The Fireflies make it a priority to know who’s who in their area of operations, and two people so prominent are difficult to miss. With frequent trips outside of the quarantine zone, and a couple of run-ins that other Firefly’s have had with the two of them, Sam knows how formidable they are. Two smugglers… even just one could be exactly what she needs.

So she holds her ground and does as she’s told. One of Sam’s hands are up, weaponless, while the other is pressed firmly against her wound. It aches and burns, but shouldn’t be a problem unless she stays like this too much longer. “I come in peace,” Sam insists. It will probably take a lot of convincing on her part.

Maybe even more when Rohan notices her Firefly pendant and yanks it from her neck. She’s not shot on sight for it, so Sam takes that as a sign that Rohan doesn’t hate the Firefly’s or their cause, unlike some of the ‘military’ around here. With the way it’s thrown back at her feet, maybe that’s a sign that she doesn’t exactly respect them.

Or maybe she doesn’t care one way or another. Sam can work with that.

“I want to make a deal.” Her voice comes out smooth and confident, but pain nearly wavers her words. “I need your help.”

She pulls her hand away from her wound for a moment, looking over the sticky wet blood that coats it. It’s not what she needs help with, but why. “I can make it worth your while. Guns, ammo. Ration cards if you want them.”

Rohan’s grip on her pistol loosens, but only slightly, refusing to let her guard down. She has to stay on high alert in case this turns out to be an ambush. For all she knows that Firefly pendant was stripped off of a dead corpse – after all, she’s done that herself. In fact, the only thing that’s kept Rohan from pulling the trigger is the fact that her face seems familiar. As if she’s seen it plastered on walls with countless other wanted posters.

“You’re in no position to make deals,” Rohan states obviously. Still, she hears her out, interested to see what her so called “deal” consists of.

It’s a good deal, one that’s hard to pass up. Especially after the events of the previous few days that left her and her partner Damien short on just about everything – especially guns. And their jobs were more or less impossible without weapons. Surviving was more or less impossible without weapons.

They need the guns but—

Damien.

Damien would never go for this.

They have both done a lot of irredeemable things for questionable people (especially Damien), but the Fireflies? Damien hates them and Rohan’s never quite figured out why. Every time she’s asked she’s been left with very vague, very monotonous answers.

Still.

“And I’m supposed to what? Just take your word for it?” Her arms are starting to burn, but she doesn’t relent on her position. She would stay like this for hours if she had to, however, it doesn’t seem like Sam has that many breaths left in her.

[leadmehcme]

Today is not her lucky day. Her own blood on her hands, lungs on fire from running, and worst of all, she’s just an inch away from failure. How’s she supposed to get Mila anywhere like this? How is she supposed to get back to her like this?

They are both outside of the quarantine zone walls, Mila stowed away back at a half-way firefly safehouse, but that doesn’t mean guards aren’t roaming. They know her face and one of the more trigger-happy pieces of shit managed to fire a bullet that dug a pretty painful flesh wound. Sam knows she will be okay if she gets back to her people, but if she doesn’t?

The thought doesn’t linger long before she hears something, or someone, else. Sam takes care to duck behind some cover, holding her breath and pressing against the wound that soaks blood into her shirt. It’s no infected, not a runner or a clicker, and maybe her luck starts to change by the time she peeks around the corner and sees just about the last person she was expecting.

With the strength she’s got left, she pulls herself back up and approaches unarmed - a sign of peace. “Rohan Patel, right?“ But Sam already knows that she is. Rohan and her partner have definitely made a name for themselves.

[thexsurvivors]

At the first breath of noise, Rohan pulls her pistol out of her holster – with the kind of swiftness and finesse that comes from years of experience – and turns to face the source. With her gun at the ready, she eyes the woman in front of her, first and foremost noting that her hands are up in surrender. Rohan doesn’t lower her weapon. 

Her eyes narrow, and her grip on her gun tightens, as the woman addresses her. Rohan doesn’t respond, rather she quickly examines the woman standing in front of her. Her eyes catch on the chain around the woman’s neck which disappears beneath her collar.

“Don’t move,” she orders as she starts to walk towards her, keeping her gun on the other woman the entire time. Rohan stops only when she gets close enough to reach her hand out and yank the necklace from around her neck.

Dangling from the chain was the notorious Firefly symbol.

Rohan turns the pendant around and can barely make out the name through all the scratches and dirt that cover it. She barely makes out the name “Sam” from the fading letters and then looks back up at the woman. Her name, attached to the Fireflies, sounds familiar, but she can’t place it. Rohan tosses the pendant to Sam’s feet.

Slowly, and prominently, Rohan shifts her line of fire from Sam’s face to her injury. She had noted it the minute she saw her and was prepared to use it against her at any means necessary. “What do you want?”