survivors_of_new_york: (faye lau)
Division NPCs ([personal profile] survivors_of_new_york) wrote 2016-07-11 10:06 pm (UTC)

When they lift him, the only response is a low moan in pain. His head droops sideways onto Rabbit's shoulder. The kid's eyes are glassy. He's either going into shock or the pain is catching up to him. Or both are happening at the same time. The dressings on his chest are stained red and getting darker by the minute.

"You're in luck, Rabbit." There's no smile in Faye's voice. She doesn't really do much of that lately. But there's the slightest hint of encouragement when she talks. "The platoon's almost there, ETA two minutes. We've got a medic with them. Just hold on."

Indeed, from behind them, back through the building, there's the tell-tale crunch of snow under boots. Someone's radio goes off in a muddled burst of static. Gear jangles. Someone coughs once, a clearing of the throat against a whiff of smoke.

"Hey." That'd be Lindianne, on the other side where she's supporting the Cleaner's weight. Snow covers her shoulders like a layer of dust. There's the slightest tinge of blue to her lips from the cold. "We got this." She flashes a brief, almost hesitant little smile in solidarity.

"Patching you through now." Faye's voice stops. A new one comes on the radio. Male, gruff, with a nasally Brooklyn accent. "'kay, hotshot, where's the patient at? I can take over. Just lemme know where's he at."

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