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RA: Part of a Chain (Chapter 4/4)

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Category: Action/Suspense/Friendship
Characters: C. Snippy/Sniper & A. Gromov/Engineer & C. Hatchenson/Pilot
Words: 10,000


"The fight isn't over yet, and nobody said it's gonna be easy."


Chapter 4: A Matter of Trust


Deep in thought, the engineer sighed and silently continued walking behind Pilot, alongside his new, taller companion. His wounded comrade lay in Stan's arms, blankly gazing up at the sky and trembling horribly with every breath.

"Stay awake, Charles, you hear me?" Alex reassured him, gently stroking his hand over Snippy's head. "We'll pull you through this. Just hang in there a little bit longer."

The sniper seemed to nod, but it was hard to tell as they walked.

As the storm subsided a bit, the dense air in the city finally began to clear, but the sky remained covered with thick clouds as always.

"Home in sight!" Pilot yelled suddenly, and picked up speed, but the heavy load on his back and the debilitating cold didn't allow him to run very fast, so the group trotted towards the entrance while Photoshop ran ahead.

Gromov let out a sigh of relief, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders as everyone gathered inside, chucking backpacks on the ground and leaning against the walls. The first thing he did was shut the door behind him to block out the cold. Safe at last.

Pilot eagerly began to unpack the bags, returning the contents to their usual places.

"Yes!! The mug has been successfully rescued! Now it can shine once again, restored to its former glory in its rightful place in Captain's base!"

Dead tired from the day, the engineer wondered where the other man had gotten all that energy from, hyperactive as he was all the time.

Putting his speculations aside for a moment, he looked over at Stan. The man knelt by the flat couch, scrutinizing the sniper. Snow lay scattered all across the floor and covered their clothes in a cold, white veil.

Quickly but gently, Stan ripped the cloth around the bullet hole open, probably to get a better view of the wound.

Even though anxiety held him back at first, a mix of curiosity and concern finally dragged the engineer over to him.

For a moment he turned his gaze to Snippy, whose condition seemed to have grown worse since they had left. His clothes were soaked in blood and he fought for every breath. As Stan stripped the goggles off the snipers head, his skin was revealed, alarmingly pale and clammy.

"Hey Alex... do you have any blankets here?" Stan asked over his shoulder, rousing him from his absent thoughts.

"Uhm yeah, why?"

"Bring them here," he uttered, stroking his hand over the sniper's head. "He's shaking badly... We need to keep him warm."

With a short nod, the engineer made his way to the other room. A minute later, a wobbly pile of blankets came walking through the door frame. As Alex accidentally stepped on one of the loose-hanging edges, he stumbled and face-planted towards Stan, hitting the floor with a yelp.

After helping him up, the brawny man took the two soft blankets from the engineer and carefully covered Snippy with them.

"Okay, he should be good with these," he muttered, looking down at the sniper. "Oh, about that gunshot wound... Give me a short break before I inspect it further. For now, the bleeding seems to have slowed down. Although I can't guarantee that it's going to stay that way. As for the bullet... Well, I'm not sure if-"

"What about the bullet?"

"We may or may not have to remove it. If it's not necessary, we won't," the man explained, and walked over to the table, taking a seat on one of the chairs. "But that depends on whether it's intact."

"What do you mean?" the engineer inquired, staying near Snippy.

"Usually, every bullet is sterile and doesn't need to be removed, but sometimes cloth comes along and gets stuck inside, causing a nasty infection. Sometimes the bullet shatters... which means it could cause further damage and pain if not removed. It may happen to sit in a bad spot near an ankle or even break a bone, if fired from close enough," the tall man explained. "Hell, there's plenty of stuff that could go wrong, and those are just a few of them... You'd do damn well to stay out of those gunfights, Alex."

The man chuckled heartily behind his mask, and the engineer couldn't help but form a small smile. From the corner of his eye he saw Snippy moving. The sniper reached for Engie and gently tugged on his trouser leg to get his attention.

"Hey Alex..." he said softly.

Upon hearing his voice, Engie's heart skipped a beat.

"How do you feel, Charles?" he hastily inquired, turning towards his buddy.

Gosh, Alex, was that the only question you could come up with? That was more than unnecessary, he thought to himself immediately, wondering why he would ask him about the most obvious fact there was.

"Horrible," the sniper stated with a hint of a smirk on his face, followed by a snort.

It's intriguing how he's still up for a laugh in his condition, Engie noticed, but couldn't help but feel glad about it.

"Would you bring me a small bottle of water, please? I'm parched..."

"Uh, sure thing, Snips," he said, turning away. "Hey Stan, will you be my guest? We've got water, coke and vodka."

"Coke for me, please!" Pilot called out from somewhere else in the building.

"Hey, get a drink yourself!" Engie snapped at him jokingly, and Stan started to chuckle as he got up from his chair.

"I'll come with you. We're going to need some water and alc for the treatment anyway, so while we're at it we can get drinks for everyone," he offered. "Show me where you store them, Alex."

Gromov nodded and waved for him to come along, before they left the room together.

After the engineer had lifted some containers from the shelf, it was Stan who initiated a conversation.

"You're so lucky to have Charles as your leader... He's a good guy, unlike my ex-boss..."

Alex continued to work, chuckling quietly over what the other man had said.

"What's so funny?" the taller man wanted to know, noticeably confused about his reaction.

"He's not our leader," the copper-eyed man explained calmly. "He's just our sniper... nothing more."

"What? But why...?"

"He only decided to take the role of a leader today because our real captain wasn't around. It was a lie to deflect your boss' attention from our leader," Alexander explained, and leaned against the wall with a sigh.

"But even if he was a leader... he would make a horrible one. Usually, nobody gives a damn about what he says, or respects him in any way. It's a miracle that he got Pilot to do those few things for him today..."

"I beg to differ," Stan muttered.

"Why do you think so?"

"Didn't he successfully guide you both past the army of my ex-boss and get you out of trouble alive and unharmed?" the brawny man reminded him. "Yeah, I'm damn sure a bad leader wouldn't be able to do that. And in the moment he told you to put the gun down... you trusted him, didn't you?"

"Eh... Perhaps he may be better at leading battles and with firearms than the rest of us, but that doesn't mean that I would accept him as a leader. After all, he used to work below me, before the nuclear fallout-"

"How can you say that?! Just who are you..." Stan hissed, starting to sound irritated.

"That's... not important!" Alex amended quickly, looking for a way to deflect the man's attention. "Come on, we need to bring these drinks to-"

Without giving him a chance to defend himself, Stan grabbed the engineer in one agile move and roughly pushed him against the wall, yanking his gas mask and goggles down.

"I should have known it was you... the signs were too obvious," Stan spat, voice dripping with contempt. "Dr. Alexander Gromov... you're the man responsible for all this. You murdered millions of people with your monstrous invention! I don't even know how you can sleep with that on your conscience..."

Gaze dropping to the floor, the engineer knew he would never get the other man's sympathy back again as easily as he had lost it. But telling him that Captain was the one who made his nearly perfect system go insane wouldn't make things better now. It would probably only make things worse.

"I didn't have a choice..." he began timidly, and put his respirator and goggles back on.

"Explain."

"Humanity was already lost before I sent my final orders to drop the bombs," Alexander confessed, and released a gloomy sigh. "What was left of mankind was nothing but mindless, empty shells, wandering the streets to destroy whatever was left of the world we knew. Their brains were fried by the shock waves ANNET sent out and the only thing that still kept them alive were their headsets, with only one purpose – to serve HER."

"See, that's just the reason why my ex-boss was against this ANNET project since we first heard of it," Stan growled. "He told us that this network would take over humanity by collecting our thoughts and robbing us of our privacy, observing our each and every step, even our thoughts. He knew that something wasn't right with your dumb machine all along. You brought nothing but chaos with your invention!"

"She was perfectly fine until a hacker disrupted her server. The attack made her completely insane and took her morality!" Alexander yelled, telling only half the truth. "She infected everyone she could reach. But those who she couldn't... they were nothing but fair game in her eyes. Subjects, merely existing to sate her thirst for blood and unleash her anger on, nothing more."

So many horrifying memories came back to him as he spoke, and he noticed that his hands had started to tremble. A queasy feeling overcame him as he thought back to the day he walked through the hallway to his office and passed all the dissected and decapitated bodies that seemed to stare at him through their empty eye sockets. They were people he had talked to every day, his employees, his scientists, his co-workers. Slaughtered by his machine, his beloved Annie...

"All I wanted was to put an end to this madness..." he confessed, voice shaking.

Stan stared down at him, but remained silent. Tension hung in the air, unpleasant and oppressive, making Engie squirm. The muscles in his back and neck had become so cramped from the mental pressure on him that he felt like they would snap at any moment. With every second, the sensation grew stronger, until he felt like he couldn't take it anymore.

Finally, the taller man sighed and let go, causing Gromov to let out a breath and relax visibly. However, the engineer didn't attempt to move and just kept staring blankly at the ground.

Old scars had been ripped back open and at that moment he realized that after all the time that had passed, he still hadn't come in terms with his traumatic memories.

"I didn't want it all to end like this..." he said slowly, sliding down the wall to crouch with his head in his hands, still trembling. "I just... I'm so sorry..."

A while passed before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his head.

"Hey... let's just forget about it," Stan sighed, and helped him back up. "Throwing all the hate in the world at you won't make things undone... even if what you did is unforgivable."

For a while Gromov stared at him silently and then looked down, sniffing behind his mask.

"Come on, let's bring these bottles to the others. They've probably started wondering what's taking us so long."

"Yeah. We shouldn't make 'em wait," the engineer agreed, and picked up the bottles, including a coke for Pilot and a bottle of vodka for himself. He'd definitely need it after this day.

Returning to the room where the others had been waiting, Engie spotted Pilot sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the couch.

Snippy seemed to have dozed off into a state between sleep and waking, his chest slowly rising and falling while occasional winces of pain interrupted their regularity. It seemed that the pain was keeping him awake.

As soon as Gromov put the bottles down, the aviator noticed him, jumped up and dashed towards him.

"Coke, coke, coooke! Did you get me coke? Where is it? Coke! Do you have it?" Pilot asked eagerly.

"Calm down and say please," the engineer teased, and held the bottle up in the air.

"You have it! Give it to me, Mr. Engie! Come on!" the other pleaded, trying to snag it from him.

"Hmm... no."

Alex felt Pilot's angry glare on him and his hypnotizing gaze started to unsettle him with every ominous second that passed, until it happened.

The pilot's elbow met with Engie's abdomen in a most unpleasant way, instantly making him regret his attempts to educate the lunatic child caught inside the body of a man.

The bottle slid out of his hands and was caught by Pilot midair, while the engineer fell to the floor, huddled in pain with his arms wrapped around himself.

"The glorious coke and I are finally reunited!" Pilot declared, and lifted his mask to chug from the bottle as he left the scene.

"Goddamn idiot! Oww my stomach..." Alexander groaned, and heard Stan laugh out loud.

"That was quite hilarious."

"Oh shut up! It's not funny," he grumbled, and pushed himself off the ground to get back up.

"You asked for it."

"Teaching him some manners is a physical impossibility. I just tend to give it a try every once in a while."

"I don't see the reason behind it, not in times like these," the tall man said, and took a few gulps from one of the bottles of water.

"I'm sure Pilot would save himself and the rest of us a lot of trouble if he only would listen to what we say. But that guy just never knows when to keep his mouth shut, even when we try to tell him to," Gromov explained, and picked up the small bottle of water from the table, staring down at it thoughtfully.

Recalling the memories of earlier today, he frowned. Pilot had been the one who started talking about Captain in front of their enemies, which had forced Snippy into his desperate decision to pass himself off as their leader.

Sighing, he twisted the bottle open and took a gulp of water, then his gaze fell on the marksman.

As he walked closer, Snippy looked up and their eyes met. He started to reach out for the bottle, but Engie pulled it back.

"Take your mask off first. You can't do that with a bottle in your hand, and I don't want you to use your right arm at the moment," the engineer instructed him.

Upon obeying unquestioningly, the bottle was finally handed to Snippy.

"Wait!" Stan yelled in a sudden,  and everyone froze in place.

Startled by the shout, the sniper just gave him an inquiring look, but before he could say anything, Stan started talking.

"Don't drink too much right now, you don't want to overload your stomach... have just enough to keep yourself hydrated, alright...?" he explained to the sniper, and gave Gromov a stern look, who slightly flinched back.

"Thanks, guys," Charles mumbled, took a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to the engineer.

"No problem," Gromov said and turned around.

"Hey Stan, I'm gonna prepare some stuff for the treatment," he informed the brawny man, who had taken a seat on one of the chairs. "If you see or hear Pilot return, warn me. I don't want him to touch anything."

A short time later, he set down a medic kit on the table and opened it, then lit a flame in the open oil lamp. A bowl of water and some clean rags and towels were placed next to them.

Snippy silently fiddled with the ends of the blanket in his hand as he waited, glancing over at his comrade every now and then.

Gromov had an uneasy feeling about what was to come, because he had no clue on how to handle a patient with a gunshot wound at all.

Damn it Alex, pull yourself together. It's just a little examination. The rest will be a piece of cake. You've wrapped a bandage heaps of times before.

But though he tried to tell himself that everything would be alright, he desperately hoped for some support from anyone with more experience than himself.

"You're very well organized. Are you the team medic?" Stan couldn't abstain from asking.

"Uh... no, not really. I'm probably just that lucky to be the only one halfway capable of doing the job," Gromov confessed, taking a gulp from the bottle of vodka in his hand. He sighed.

"But to be honest, I know nearly nothing about medicine and anatomy, just some very moderate basics. What about you?"

"Well, being part of a big group of survivors often brought the opportunity to watch some of our people undergo medical treatment, after they were wounded by monsters or in armed conflict with hostile groups," Stan said, getting up from the chair and slowly pacing over to the engineer, where he came to halt.

"In all that time, I learned a few things about gunshot wounds. I even had to assist in a small surgery once, although I've never done one all by myself."

"Well, in that case, it seems you're at least a bit more experienced than me," Gromov stated, wondering whether the other would notice his trepidation.

Trying to quell his nerves, he took another gulp of vodka.

"I guess I can give it a try," Stan finally offered. "Hey, would you stop drinking that stuff? You won't be any use if you're drunk!"

"I'm a full-blood Russian... a whole bottle of this will barely make me tipsy," Alex cackled.

"Damn Russian blood... sometimes I wish I had it," Stan muttered, and turned around to Snippy.

"Here, you're gonna need this," Gromov remarked as he handed the tall man a small flashlight. At Stan's surprised look, Engie had to smile. "Working batteries have ceased to exist, but being an engineer has proven to still have its advantages in times like these. I found a way to build my own."

"Clever," the tall man commented as he turned it on. "I'm going to take a look at your friend now."

As Stan brushed away the ripped shirt cloth to reveal the wound, Snippy turned his head away.

"This is just to exclude any danger emanating from the bullet," Stan told him. "Don't worry, it's not gonna hurt a lot."

Standing silently in the background, Engie watched Stan stretch the skin around the gunshot wound with his fingers, and it didn't take long for Snippy to react.

Jerking under the terrible pain the pressure on his shoulder delivered, Charles could barely suppress a yelp.

The little flashlight lit up the gory inside for a few seconds, then it was turned off and disappeared into Stan's big fist.

As Stan finally withdrew, the relieved sniper slowly started to recover from his torture, breathing laboriously.

"Damn it..." Stan muttered. "This is bad. Very bad."

"What's your diagnosis?" Gromov inquired, concerned, pushing himself forwards to see.

"The bullet is split and slightly deformed. There are two sharp edges sticking out from it that're causing him a lot of pain. Must have happened as it hit a bone or something..."

"Shit... so what are we gonna do now?"

"We'll have to get it out somehow, or it will do more internal damage to the tissue if he moves around. Get me some scissors," the taller man instructed.

Abstaining from asking any more questions, the engineer quickly searched the medical kit for scissors. As he had finally found a pair and handed it over, Stan literally ripped it from his fingers and pointed it at Snippy's chest, who already tensed up in anticipation of more pain.

To both Snippy and Engie's relief, the scissors turned out to be needed only to cut through the remains of the already tattered shirt that would have just been in the way.

Blood stained skin was exposed, revealing a bunch of dark purple bruises across the side of the ribcage, along with a horrible looking, open gash wound. Gromov was astounded how the sniper could have guided them through the mission with these injuries and played it off so well the whole time.

He could heard Stan taking a deep breath and wondered what was going on inside the man's head.

Does he feel guilty? Are some of these bruises his work, perhaps?

Gromov tried to recall the memories of earlier that day, but his head ached too horribly to dig for them and to be honest, he didn't really want to think about them anymore.

The man beside him shifted around to get one of the smaller rags, dipped it into the water and started wiping off the smeared blood from the sniper's chest. Charles tensed up every time his hand got too close to one of the wounds and tried his best to hold still as he dabbed at them.

"Alex, he's gonna require a morphine shot for what we're about to do," Stan demanded without turning around.

"We don't have any morphine or other pain killers..."

"Damn it! Have you got anything antiseptic at least?"

"Well... it seems all we got is alcohol."

"It will do," Stan declared, and glanced over at Gromov.

The engineer was still sipping from the bottle, lost in thoughts he hoped to wipe from his mind with vodka. Noticing Stan watching him, he gave him a weird look.

"What?" Alexander asked, shrugging at him.

"My god... How can someone drink so much," the taller man muttered in frustration, and sighed. "Give me that before you drink it all..."

With a jolt he rudely yanked the bottle out of Gromov's hand. The engineer wanted to complain, but held back as the other man gave him a death stare. Stan turned back around and Snippy eyed him suspiciously as he checked the label of the bottle.

As the sniper noticed what the man was up to, his eyes widened in fear. Every muscle in his body tensed up and a pained scream escaped him as the liquid was poured over the gash, burning like searing hot metal heated up in a fire.

"Goddamn it..." Charles groaned, gasping for air. "Warn me next time you do something like this!"

Needle and threat were quickly found, and after cleaning the tools with some more alcohol, Stan put the needle in his left hand and deftly sewed the gash shut with five stitches.

Then he reached for one of the big patches from the kit and carefully covered the wound.

Gromov just stood beside him, frowning and trying to think of a way to ease the whole situation for his comrade. As the sniper caught his glance, he swiftly spun around and paced across the room.

With a sigh Stan turned to the table and started searching through the med kit. Eventually he held up surgical forceps, scrutinized them for a while and finally held them over the flame to sterilize them.

_______________________

So this is it... I ended up as the lab rat of two wannabe doctors. But on the other hand, they're probably the only people who can help me right now, Snippy thought, rather despairing about the whole situation.

Slowly he looked down at himself to study the bullet wound on his shoulder for the first time. The horrible view of the bloodied, ruptured skin and exposed flesh made him cringe inside and a nauseous feeling overcame him.

Oh god... he thought, and looked away, closing his eyes for a moment as he tilted his head back.

Trying to forget about the pain and the horrible sight, Charles looked for a distraction.

Curious for anything that would be more interesting than staring at the ceiling above him, he peered around the room to see what the others were doing.

Stan was still preparing some tools on the table while Alexander just watched him from his chair, where he sat almost like a king on his throne.

I really wonder what's going on in Gromov's head right now. It almost seemed as if he was mad at me for some reason.

As he looked over to him once more, he suddenly realized that the engineer was staring right at him. Just as their eyes met, the man looked away, got up with a sigh and paced over to the window, gazing out of it thoughtfully.

That guy is a mystery, Charles thought, and decided to let the guy be for now.

After a while he found himself staring at the ceiling again, failing to find a distraction in it.

Goddamn it, my shoulder's killing me!

Quickly, he shook off these thoughts.

Looking through the room again, he hoped for something to happen, something to make this horrible moment pass.

"Engie! What are you guys doing?" Someone yelled, and a gleefully jumping Pilot appeared in the door frame.

Alexander spun around and approached Pilot as if he wanted to shove him out of the way like a roaming snow-plough.

"What are you playing, Engie? Can I join?" Pilot asked, but he was promptly pushed away.

"We're just fixing Snippy. It's a boring game."

"You mean Stan is fixing Snippy, while you're just looking out of the window."

"What! How did you- I didn't-" Gromov stuttered, and turned an interesting shade of tomato-red. He quickly caught himself again. "I mean... I helped him earlier!"

"Shame, Engie. Captain won't be proud when he hears of your laziness."

"This is none of your business," he hissed, and continued his attempts to push him through the door frame.

"You won't let me join your game and you're being lazy. Once I tell Captain of your unfairness, he's gonna degrade you!"

"Whatever. Why don't you piss off."

Pilot gazed at him for a while, then he slowly lowered his head, turned around and walked away with a sniffle.

Wow, Gromov. What turned you into such a coldhearted asshole? Snippy thought, and wondered why he felt so disappointed in him.

As the engineer turned around, he found the other two staring at him.

"That... wasn't okay," Stan remarked.

"Congratulations, Gromov," Snippy muttered. "You managed to make him cry. I hope you are proud of yourself..."

Alexander said nothing, but then Charles realized that the engineer was silently fighting a certain tension in his chest.

I know him... He's not like that. Deep inside his heart, he probably already regrets his words and wishes he could undo everything.

"I'm going to talk to him," Engie finally said in a tone that sounded more concerned than annoyed. "See what I can do to cheer him back up."

Hearing this took a load off Snippy's heart.

Guess he's not such a bad guy after all, he thought contently, and smiled. Even if he seems selfish sometimes... at some level, he still cares.

Now that Engie and Pilot were gone, Charles watched Stan sorting out things from the kit, and something came to his mind that made him ponder.

There was something about Stan that had caught Snippy's attention earlier and nagged him ever since. Since they had arrived home, he had never seen Stan using his right hand unless he absolutely had to. But Charles was 100% sure that the man wasn't left-handed, and that fact worried him.

After a while he suddenly remembered, and everything became clear to him.

Right... that gash on his lower arm. How could I forget? Pilot struck him quite badly there, as far as I remember. He is wearing a bandage, so he must have nursed himself in the time he was gone.

The sniper let out a long sigh and looked at the man.

That wound looked pretty bad... Oh god, I seriously hope he's alright. He's either very tough, or very good at hiding his pain. How did he even carry me through that storm with that injury? I don't even...

A surge of pain in his shoulder cut through his thoughts and made him cringe. For a moment he paused and slowly caught himself again with shallow, cautious breaths.

Trying to catch himself again, he took another look at Stan.

Just look at how brave he's been. You should take a leaf out of his book, Charles. Stay tough and take it like a man... Everything will pass.

_______________________

It's already been an awfully exhausting day, and as if the shock from Snippy almost biting the dust today wasn't enough, Pilot has to get on my nerves now too.

With a mix of frustration and worry on his mind, Engie strode through the short hallway, following the soft sounds of crying to a small storage room littered with wooden crates of supplies. Pilot huddled on top of one of them, hiding his face in his arms. His shaky sniffing instantly stopped as he spotted the engineer, and green eyes locked him in an angry glare.

Okay Alex, you know what you're here for. Talk to Pilot, and don't mention anything about the surgery. Children don't understand the word "no" and he is like a child, so you shouldn't even think of it. You don't want to give him bad ideas. So go up to him, say sorry, clear the problem and most important: don't mess up, he told himself, and slowly approached.

"Pilot, I-"

"Talking about teaching manners when you don't even have any yourself... go away, you dumb shoe," Pilot growled.

"Ugh..." Gromov uttered.

What the... okay, keep trying. Don't give up just yet.

"Yeah, about that... Sorry, I couldn't-"

"You couldn't control yourself? Why?"

"Stop interrupting me!" Alexander yelled.

"Stop being mean to me!" Pilot yelled back in the same tone.

For fuck's sake! Arguing with an idiot doesn't get you anywhere. Alright, Alex... you don't want to sink to his level, so don't let him drag you down there. Be rational. You can solve this like a grown up man.

"Okay Pilot, look: I won't be mean to you anymore from now on," Engie suggested, and this time Pilot seemed to listen to him. "But you also gotta promise to stop hurting me in any way, and that includes punching me to get what you want. It's not nice!"

"You started it!"

"What? How?"

"You didn't want to give me my well-earned coke!"

"Ugh..." the engineer muttered, resisting the urge to face-palm.

This is gonna be more complicated than I thought.

For a while, they just stared at each other blankly, both waiting for the other to say something.

"Let's just forget about this," Engie suggested.

"No," Pilot said dully. "I'm going to tell Captain."

"Wha-?"

"I'm going to tell him that you apologized. He will be proud to hear that your manners have improved."

How dare you, you damn, sly little bastard... Engie thought, and clenched his fists, trying his best to hold himself back from yelling all sorts of swear words at him. He took a deep breath and looked back up at the other man.

"How about you draw him a nice picture instead. You know how much Captain appreciates your drawings."

"A gift drawing? Yes, a very good idea!" Pilot cheered and jumped off the box. "It will be the best welcome gift for Captain!"

Good. Now, all I have to do is-

As Pilot brushed him while passing by, a part of his belt hooked through the buckle on Gromov's sleeve. The engineer was spun around, lost his balance and fell on his backside in a rather undignified manner.

"Oww!"

"Sorry, Engie!" Pilot's voice yelled regretfully through the corridor. "I'll go find my chalks!"

Whatever, Alexander thought, and got up, dusting off the back of his pants. Time to return to the others and see how far Stan got.

With that on his mind he strode through the corridor. In the corner of his eye he saw the two displays he had attached there and stopped to take a look at them. They were part of a new installation he had built in the last few days.

Good, the battery still has enough power for the night. The air filter system won't let us down for now, and as long as we keep the door shut, we should have fresh and clean air in here.

He looked at the modified window with a blowing fan and a filter of its size in it. With confidence he pulled his mask down and took a slow breath, feeling the clean air filling his lungs. It felt good to breathe without a respirator again for once.

The goggles felt uncomfortable on his face, so he shifted them up to his forehead and rubbed his face with his hand.

As if it hadn't been there before, an old leather wallet on the drawer caught his attention and he went to pick it up.

Gosh, I almost forgot these things existed. It's been so long since people used coins and paper money to for purchases. Now this old piece of thick leather could probably come of use one last time.

Taking the few remaining coins out of it, he stored the wallet in the pocket of his jacket and returned to the others.

As he entered their room, he saw Stan sitting huddled on a chair next to Snippy's couch. They both stared at him, probably because he wasn't wearing his mask.

"I'm back," Engie announced to break the silence. "Pilot is fine now, and I checked the ventilation system. The air in here should be filtered now, so we can take our masks off for a while."

Without a word, Stan took his face-gear off. With closed eyes, he ran his hand through his blonde, short-clipped hair and over his face, taking a deep breath, before he returned to his huddled posture.

"So... what's new?" the engineer inquired, hoping for at least some good news.

"Well, Alex..." Stan began, then glanced down at his hand and frowned. "I contemplated our situation here and came to a decision."

"Yeah?"

"You're going to perform the surgery on your friend."

The shock hit him like a blast wave.

"But why?" the engineer cried, confused. "You've done very well so far, and you have more experience than-"

"I can't use my right hand," Stan interrupted, and moved his hand over the bandaged part of his right arm where he'd been wounded by Pilot. "And I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to do so again."

Gromov fell silent and noticed Snippy shifting nervously.

"Most of my arm's tendons were ruptured when your swordsman attacked me. Luckily, some of them remained intact and I can still move my middle and ring finger. It allowed me to pull the trigger to save the life of your friend," he muttered, and glanced down on Snippy to talk to him.

"Don't worry, you'll be in good hands. This man is a master engineer, he's been doing delicate handwork his whole life."

"This is different...," Alexander hissed at him coldly. "I've never worked like that... on a human."

Frowning in despair, Gromov glanced over at Charles, and their eyes met, but this time neither of them looked away. While Alexander slowly approached, Snippy didn't take his gaze off him. Beside anxiety and pain there was nothing to be found in his blue eyes.

As he stood by him, he stared down at his wounded crew mate, who patiently waited, looking up at him.

What now... if I take one wrong step, you're going to die and it will be my fault. What was Stan thinking when he gave me this task? I can't shoulder such responsibility.

Unable to bear it anymore, Alexander shut his eyes and covered them with his hand, turning away in resignation.

"I... I can't do this. You picked the wrong person for this task."

"You're the only person left who can do it. Have confidence in yourself..." Stan reassured him, and took hold of Gromov's shoulders. "I'll tell you what to do; you can rely on me. I won't let you down."

"But what if something goes wrong? I can't take the risk..."

"You want Charles to live, right? His life is in your hands now, and if you refuse to help him... he won't make it through the night."

His life depends on... me?

That phrase – it sounded familiar. He had heard it before, not that long ago, which made him ponder. As he recalled the memories of the day, he realized that it was Snippy who had said it.

Gromov fully remembered that scene now. It was right after Pilot had put Stan to rout, leaving him behind with the sniper. Oh how terrified he had been... he remembered wishing to faint and wake up from the horrible nightmare.

But in the end it was Charles who woke him up and brought him back to reality, soothing his horribly frightened mind. Merely thinking back on it sent a cold shiver down his spine, and as he looked down at the sniper, Alex felt a sudden sadness spreading inside him.

Finally secure about his decision, he gritted his teeth and let go of his fear.

"No. I don't want him to die..." Gromov began shakily, and straightened himself. "Tell me what must be done, Stan. I'll do my best and give it a try."

"Alright, Alex," the other man sighed, seeming quite delighted with his words. "But first, calm down and take a deep breath, before you faint from agitation. Hehe."

Just as he was told that, he followed Stan's advice. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen his tense muscles, then he finally looked back at him.

"Good. I've already prepared everything. Now, let us begin, shall we? First off, take your gloves off and sanitize your hands with this," the man instructed, and handed him a cloth.

The soft cloth felt moist on his hands and bore a slight scent of alcohol.

As soon as Stan handed him the surgical forceps, Alex's initial fear returned. He swallowed, knowing that this would be no easy task.

"Wait a second..." Snippy said nervously. "You're going to do this without any sort of anesthetization?"

Engie frowned, gazing down at him for a while and sighed nervously, before he finally answered.

"We haven't got anything pain numbing we could give you."

"Not even some of your booze?"

"Believe me..." Stan talked. "The thinning effect it would have on your blood right now would mean your death," he paused. "But we'll give you some after this is over."

"Wow, that's fucking great," the sniper hissed irritatedly.

"Look, I'm really sorry, but this is all I can give you for now," Gromov spoke, and handed him the leather wallet. "You're going to want to bite down on this... to help you endure the pain. I'll try to make this quick... Try not to faint."

Charles took the old piece of leather and glowered at the two men.

"I hate you so much right now.... both of you."

"Perhaps you should be a little more grateful," Stan advised him. "I've encountered groups of survivors that leave their wounded comrades out in the cold to die, because they simply don't care enough or don't have a clue on how to treat them. You're lucky we're not like them."

The sniper sighed. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbled and turned his face away.

"Stan, I think we're all ready now," Alexander changed the topic. "How should I proceed?"

"You watched me examining before, right? You will do the same now in order to look for the bullet before you start," he explained. "It is very important that you know its position before you dig for it. Go on, give it a try."

Engie nodded and gazed down at Snippy, who pouted at the fabric of the back rest of the couch. Still with the same look on his face, he glanced at him for a second, before he continued looking at the fabric.

"Just do it," he mumbled quietly, and put one side of the leather wallet in his mouth.

With hesitation, Gromov slowly moved his hand over the bullet wound and he did as he was told, pulling it open more with his fingers, he felt a wince and the breathing of the sniper sped up.

"Wait a moment... I'll hold the light for you," Stan said, and turned the little flashlight on. "There. Can you see the projectile?"

"Yeah. What now?"

"Try to reach it with the forceps. But be very careful not to cut any veins on the way."

Doing his best to mentally prepare for what was to come, Alex took a deep breath before he moved the surgical forceps over the gunshot wound.

"Alright, here goes..."

As carefully as he could, he took the tool right to the bullet. Once there, he spread the forceps and tried to grab the projectile. But as the metal touched the tissue at the side of the hole, Snippy jerked unexpectedly, which made Engie pull back.

"Damn it..."

"It's okay, just try again, Alex," Stan noted. "You did great so far."

"Alright. Hold still this time, Charles," Engie said, and lowered the forceps to the wound.

The sniper gave a snorted sound of agitation and glared at the engineer.

"I know it hurts, but you gotta try."

"Stop talking and do it already..." the sniper hissed at him around the edges of the wallet in irritation and turned his face away.

With that, the engineer gave it another try. This time he slowly moved the forceps over the sides of the bullet, but as he tried to grab it, he slipped off.

Snippy bit down on the leather and let out a groan, but Gromov didn't let loose this time and tried once again. As he finally got a solid hold of the projectile, he wanted to pull it out, but all attempts to move it failed and only resulted in inflicting more unnecessary pain on his crew mate.

"I can't get it out!" Alex cried to Stan.

"Try to turn it and grab it from a different angle," the other man suggested.

Trembling horribly under the torment, the sniper breathed heavily and couldn't hold back a cry of pain as the engineer attempted to turn the deformed bullet around.

A tear ran down the tormented man's face, and Alex was sure that it came from an excessive amount of pain and the resignation; but he knew that it wouldn't be over for him anytime soon.

Even though it tore his heart to torture his comrade like this, the engineer pulled all his courage together to keep going. If he stopped now, there would be no hope for Snippy to survive.

Blood slowly kept flowing from the open wound and the situation seemed hopeless, but Gromov wasn't anywhere near giving up. After a few more attempts, the projectile was finally loose, but as a result of that, the blood flow increased.

Making haste now, the engineer deftly extracted the bullet and threw it on the table along with the forceps. Looking down at the blood, he began swearing in despair and turned to his teacher.

"Crap, he's gonna bleed out! What should I do?!" he yelled to Stan, fighting not to burst into panic.

"Apply pressure and keep him awake while I get some bandages," Stan said shortly, turning back to the table.

Pressing both his hands against the bleeding wound, Gromov felt his stress levels rising rapidly and could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Below his hands he saw the blood slowly seeping through.

"Hang in there..." he muttered shakily, not taking his eyes off Snippy.

Breathing heavily, the sniper let out a weak groan of pain.

"Alright, let's finish this," he heard Stan say, appearing next to him with a bundle.

Alexander instantly let go and made space for the other man.

"Come and lend me a hand, Alex," he told him over his shoulder. "We need to bandage the wound with these. They will repress the bleeding."

Without further ado, he came to Stan's aid. Together they started to carefully wrap the pressure bandages around the sniper's shoulder, making sure they weren't too tight or too loose.

As they finally finished, Engie dropped himself into a chair with an exhausted sigh. Snippy took the wallet out of his mouth and wiped over his forehead with his sleeve, before flinging that vile tasting bit of cow hide to the floor.

"Well done, Alex," Stan said, and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Keep an eye on him for a little longer, and don't let him pass out. I'll be back in a few."

Too weary to really bother replying, the engineer just nodded and watched him leave.

"I did it..." Alexander quietly muttered to himself, looking down at his hands.

Naturally, he hadn't expected the surgery to be easy, because it certainly had not been. But Alexander knew that with his commitment to keep Charles alive, he had finally paid his debt to the sniper for saving his backside so many times.

Hearing a quiet groan coming from said sniper, Engie silently turned his gaze to his crew mate, frowning with worry.

Even though his breathing had slowed down, he still sucked in a breath sometimes and contorted his face as he gave a wince of pain.

"Gromov... I'm seeing.... funny colors..." the sniper suddenly mumbled absently.

"This is bad..." Engie whispered to himself as he strode towards him. "Stay awake, Charles!" he told him, but it was already too late; the man didn't respond anymore, his head tilted to the side.

With a hefty slap he tried to wake him up, but without success.

"Goddamn it Charles, don't do this to me...!" he hissed and searchingly scanned the room for something useful.

As he spotted the bowl of water on the table, he formed his hands to a bowl and plunged them into the container that held the liquid. The moment he emptied his hands over the snipers face, he woke with a start and gasped. A second later he groaned up and brought his hand to his bandaged shoulder.

“What... When... Why did you do this?!” he uttered confusedly and glowered at Alexander who had started to elevate Snippy's legs.

“Shut up, moron! You passed out, okay?”

A silent moment passed, and Engie broke the silence with a long sigh.

“Oh...” Snippy mumbled after a while. “I remember now.”

“The loss of so much blood must have dehydrated you... Here, drink something,” he said and handed him the water. “Try to stay awake. I'm sure Stan will be back soon...”

As he spoke the engineer glanced to the door.

“Where did he go...?” the sniper asked in a low voice and took a swig.

“I don't know; he didn't tell me. But he looked pretty devastated as he left.”

“Ugh...” Snippy sighed and lay his head back.

Gromov knew that it wasn't time to lay off worry about the sniper's condition yet. The fight still wasn't won... Not until Stan officially told him that there was no more reason to worry.

With a sigh, the engineer, let go of Snippy's legs, stood up and retrieved his bottle of vodka. Trying to ease his frayed nerves, he opened the lid and took a few big, well earned swigs before he returned to his seat to watch over the sniper.

As the engineer glanced at him, he searched for something appropriate to say, but he just couldn't think of anything.

"Hey Snips... You're still awake, right?"

"Of course I am," Snippy muttered weakly and cleared his throat. "Uhm, Gromov..."

"Yeah?"

"At one point... I thought you wouldn't pull it together enough to do that surgery."

"Oh shut up..." the engineer snorted, and pouted at the ground.

"But in the end, you really did it," The sniper said slowly. "Thanks for that."

A bunch of scattered thoughts circulated through his mind, but his head felt so empty at that moment and the engineer missed the right words to say.

"Hey... you're welcome," he finally uttered and smilingly ruffled through Snippy's hair, which put a smirk on his face.

As he waited for his 'teacher' to return, Gromov made himself comfortable on the chair and took a few sips from his alcoholic beverage.

Quite some time passed before Stan came back and checked on Snippy while Engie sat on the chair, about to doze off, the bottle placed in his lap.

With a tap on the back the blonde man woke the engineer up from his half-sleep and asked him to assist him in changing the bandages of his crew mate one last time. As they removed the pressure bandages, the brawny man paused.

"Good, the flow's stopped. Looks like your friend is gonna be alright," Stan finally reassured Alexander while fixing the new bandage.

With that said, the engineer felt relieved of everything he had still worried about up to that moment and sighed, letting go of his anxiety.

"Give him a few weeks of rest and he should be fit again; until then he shouldn't move his arm too much or do anything strenuous. It would be better for him to completely cease using any firearms for the time being, even after the wound's healed."

"What if we get attacked again...?" Engie asked worriedly.

"You have a great swordsman, and I taught you how to use a gun," Stan reminded him and paused for a moment. "You'll manage somehow. And hey, it's only for about a month, then you'll have your sniper back."

"I'm not doing this again..." Snippy said with a smirk.

Upon that, Stan started laughing gleefully, while Gromov merely pulled a smile.

"Here, you should keep yourself hydrated," Stan said as he handed the sniper the small drinking bottle. "Don't chug the whole bottle down.... be cautious about drinking for now. Tomorrow we'll see if we can get you some pain killers."

"Thanks...," the sniper muttered and gladly took the bottle.

Willingly, the blonde man helped Engie clean up the room and together they put away the rest of the things that lay on the small table.

As they finished, Gromov put the lamp down on the dining table, took a seat on one of the many chairs that stood around and offered the other man a glass of vodka.

Resting their bare feet on the remaining chairs, they sat and relaxed while exchanging a few words and sipping from their glasses.

"Hey Stan, look... it's finally over."

"What is?"

"Everything. We've finally got a moment to relax, I'll say we deserve it," the engineer muttered tiredly. "Hey, want some canned rice mix? I'm really hungry and I'll have to go get some more drinks too anyways."

"Sure, I'd love to eat some," the brawny man replied. "But I'll stay here. Somebody's gotta stay near Charles, just in case. By the way, you should ask him if he wants something to eat as well."

"Right. Hold on a minute," Engie said and went to the couch.

Snippy lay still with his face turned away, chest slowly rising and falling. As Gromov peered over him to get a closer look, he noticed that the sniper was already fast asleep. Carefully, he pulled up the blanket to cover him, looked over at Stan with a shrug and left to the storeroom.

Moments later he came back with a bunch of stuff and deposited it all on the table in front of Stan. Before he sat back down, he looked through a few drawers and came back with two forks in his hand.

Eagerly they opened their cans and started eating.

"Is he alright?" Stan inquired, munching his mixed rice with relish.

"He's fast asleep. We'll see how it is tomorrow, I guess."

"At least he can sleep. It's all thanks to you."

"Well... without your help, I couldn't have done it," Alex pointed out. "I really can't thank you enough for that."

"It goes without saying. I owed it to him, because he saved my life," Stan explained briefly. "So I paid my debt in saving his life in return."

"That's an honorable way of thinking," the engineer admitted. He refilled the glasses and raised his. "Let's drink to that."

"Cheers," the other man said, and clicked glasses with Alexander.

After that, they lost themselves in small talk. Engie found out that Stan had lived in Austria, until he moved here with his father after his mom died. He also told Gromov a few words in German, which made him giggle in amusement over the sound of what was to him a foreign language and upon that, Stan demanded a demonstration of his own mother language in return.

Then Stan started telling him stories about people in his ex-crew and somehow they moved on to talking about Pilot and Snippy. At one point, Engie began to talk about Captain, but even though he had worked and lived around him for quite a while, he still knew nearly nothing about the commander, which opened space for various speculations and theories.

Time was lost to them as they talked. Glasses were refilled and stories were told, until Stan suddenly stopped in the middle of a sentence and froze with a blank stare at the space behind the engineer.

Looking at him, he could literally see the fear in his widened eyes and began to worry that something terrible had occurred.

As quickly as he could, Engie spun around to face the terror and jumped as he saw a tall figure standing right behind him, but seconds later he already recognized the man.

"Good evening, mein minion."

"Wha- Seven?!" Engie spluttered and almost fell from his chair, drunk as he was. "I- uh-  I mean... Greetings, Captain!"

"So this is your Captain?" Stan inquired hastily. He got up and walked over to the man, reaching forward for a hand shake. "I deem it an honor to meet you, Sir. I am Stan."

"Greetings, Mr. Stan. I presume you are a friend of Mr. Engie? Guests are always welcome in my house," Captain said, and turned to Gromov. "Mr. Engie! I'd like to know about your progress so far in fixing the objects I ordered from you."

"Uh..." the engineer said and flailed his hands in a series of gestures as if he was trying to tell him everything but didn't quite know where and how to start. "Well, the thing is... the mug... Stan is... and then Snippy..."

Eventually, he had to stop and started coughing, because through his nervousness it seemed he had forgotten how to exhale. Briefly he looked over at the door, just to check if Captain had closed it behind him after entering, and was relieved to find that he had.

"What do you mean? Cut the nonsense and tell me what happened!" Captain urged him.

As Gromov finally caught himself again, he gave it another try.

"Okay... It was as follows: Thieves burgled our house, took our stuff and stole the mug."

"The mug!! Where is it?!" Captain yelled at him, and Engie tried to calm him down.

"Shh, it's right here," he said and pointed to said object. "Now, where was I... Yes, the thieves. We managed to free ourselves thanks to Pilot, fought back and followed them to their base. Then we retrieved the mug and everything else and fought against the enemy force, but Snippy got hurt in the process. Luckily, Stan came to the rescue and we returned home."

"Wow, you just made that sound like a children's tale," Stan mumbled, but Engie instantly shushed him.

"Excellent job, mein engineer," Captain praised. "But where is the rest of my crew now?"

"Pilot is upstairs, and Snippy... well..." he glanced over to where the sniper was sleeping. "He's asleep; it's probably better to not wake him up right now."

"He's getting some sleep? Great! Then he can work better when he is awake! Now, I shall go see what my other minion is doing. Mr. Engie, would you be so kind as to find a place for Stan to sleep? Our guest shouldn't feel neglected in any way!" The commander told him before he danced out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Alexander let out a long sigh.

"He has a... strange way of talking," the blonde man noted. "Almost sounds like as if he doesn't really give a damn about any of you."

"I know."

"Actually, I find it kinda hard to believe that you accept him as your leader, but would refuse to follow Charles."

"Shut up... I have my reasons," the engineer muttered. He paced over to the door and beckoned for Stan to follow. "Come, I'll show you a room where you can sleep."

The man followed Alex to a small room lined with shelves that were packed with crates and a lot of stuff laying around on the floor, including an old mattress.

"Guess we will have to move a few things..." Engie said as he saw the chaos and began to move a few crates aside. "Can you muck in?"

Stan looked down at his injured arm and frowned, glancing at the engineer and silently indicating that he would rather not lift anything heavy right now.

"Oh, your arm..." Engie began and looked at it for a while in silence, wishing he could help him somehow.

"I looked at it earlier, when I left you alone with Snippy. It looks pretty bad... and I know if I don't get proper treatment soon, I won't be able to use my hand ever again. Sadly I have no idea how to treat it," he told him, and Engie noticed a glint of desperation in his voice. "I'm going to leave tomorrow morning. See if I can get hold of one of our doctors."

"Wait... doesn't that mean that you'll have to go back to that large shopping mall base?"

"It's alright, they know me there. I have hope that our medics will be able to help me."

"You... know you're risking getting attacked again... right?" Engie pointed out. "Your ex boss is probably waiting there, and you're not exactly in his good books right now."

"You're over exaggerating, Alex," Stan said with a laugh, and sat down on the mattress. "Charles took out most of the gunners and the few survivors are probably in medical treatment right now. I'm pretty sure that they have bigger problems to worry about than me."

Feeling overwhelmed with tiredness, Gromov sighed and turned to the door.

"They sure do. After all, they just lost their whole army..." he muttered, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a part of them right now.

Probably a lot less pleasant than we have it here, he presumed.

"Anyways, it's gotten pretty late," the engineer yawned sleepily. "Good night."

"Good night," the blonde man mumbled in return while snuggling down into the mattress.

"And if we don't get a chance to talk again..." Engie uttered. "Take care."

With that, Gromov left and headed to his chamber, everything inside of him craving for sleep.

The next morning dawned with a bright, yellow sky.

With tired eyes and a horribly aching head, Alexander shuffled down the stairs and stretched himself with a big yawn, cracking away the stiffness in his joints and rubbing his eyes.

As he looked through one of the windows, he saw Captain standing in the snow, staring straight ahead. Watching him for a while, he couldn't help but feel glad that he was finally back with them again. Horrible things tended to happen when he wasn't around.

Suddenly Photoshop dashed past the commander with Pilot in pursuit, waving a long, red ribbon in the air.

Silly Pilot... he's trying to attach that thing to the monster worm, but it's obvious that it doesn't like it, Gromov thought.

As he entered the living room, the first thing he saw was Snippy, sitting on one of the chairs around the table, calmly eating from an open tin can.

"Morning," the engineer mumbled sleepily and took a seat somewhere near Snippy.

For only a short moment, the sniper glanced at him with tired eyes.

"Hi," was all the blue-eyed man brought forth, before he continued eating.

The sniper looked quite devastated in Gromov's eyes, but he really couldn't blame him. That man had been through a hell of a lot the day before and would need a lot of time to recover from everything that had happened to him.

"Uhm... where's Stan?" The engineer inquired curiously.

"He's gone. Said he'd go back to the hostile base to find a doctor..." Snippy muttered. "Before he left, he thanked me for everything and told me to greet you from him..."

A conspicuous piece of cloth that hung over the chair suddenly caught Engie's attention, which he soon determined as Stan's coat.

"...But why did he leave his coat behind?"

"He took the bloodied soldier-coat with him instead. You know, the one he had covered me with. He told me it would serve as his camouflage."

"I... don't get it," Engie muttered after a while, and frowned as he raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe he's gonna try to sneak through, pretending to be one of them in order to get near a doctor," Charles explained. "And with that mask covering his face, they probably won't be able to distinguish him from the rest until he reveals his identity."

"Clever guy..." Gromov gasped, quite amazed at Stan's ingenuity.

Snippy nodded. "But his arm... it looked pretty bad. Do you think he'll be alright?"

"I'm sure he will," he reassured the sniper with a smile. "But... what about you? How are you feeling?"

A short moment of silence followed, then Snippy raised his left hand and waved it about a bit.

"I'm feeling better than ever before! In fact, I feel so good that I could go outside right now, pull a traffic light out of the ground and crush it with my bare hands until it turns into a chunk that fits into this can!!" he declared, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"...What?"

"Not really. I'm gonna head back to bed and hope I don't die on the way," Snippy grumbled gloomily and put the fork down beside the half-empty can.

Slowly he got up from his chair, leaving a despondent Engie behind.

Unnoticed, Gromov's eyes followed the wounded sniper as he shuffled across the room. But as he suddenly started to stagger and seemed to start falling to the side, the engineer jumped up and was with him within the second, supporting him.

"Oww..." Snippy breathed, face twisting in pain. "Ah... Goddamn it."

"It's alright, Snips... it's alright..." Engie soothed him, and felt the other man tremble in pain. "You're not alone. We'll do this together, just like we did before, do you understand?"

"Gromov..."

"You spoke the truth all along, but I didn't want to believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. The whole mission yesterday proved something to me. None of us is gonna make it far if we don't stick together.

We all have our different duties and abilities to compliment each other, because we are a team.

And each one of us... is part of a chain."
"The fight isn't over yet, and nobody said it's gonna be easy."
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Chapters:
Previous :reading: remake
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The final chapter of my RA fanfic novella 'Part of a Chain'. With 10,000 words, this is my longest chapter and story so far; The whole story counts a total of 30,731 words and therefor is the longest story in the RA archive. : )

Contains some half-hearted attempts to cheer the situation up a little, and a surgery.

Story on FF.net
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Special thanks to eight0fhearts for supporting me with proof-reading thorough the whole story!

Also thanks to my followers and all the people who keep reviewing, supporting and sharing my stories!
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Questions:

1. What does your character Stan look like? Pictures are here and here.
2. Where are Snippy's injuries? Ref sheet
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Romantically Apocalyptic belongs to alexiuss
Character Stan belongs to me
Preview image by me, stock image from google (tell me if it's your pic and I'll give credit)



© 2012 - 2024 Sol4rpleXus
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DarkWolf44's avatar
In the whole story, Snippy is like the most badass motherfcker I've ever seen xD
Also favorite quote: "I'm a full-blood Russian... a whole bottle of this will barely make me tipsy"
Dayuuummmm!