hermajestysfury | 420: Return

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420: Return

Nothing moves until Sir Nicholas' shoulder is firmly under the heavy weight of the man known as Rojhaz, as Steve Rogers, as Captain America.

Then lots of things happen. The scientists shout, one of them raises a gun, and Sir Nicholas - encumbered by the body of a man much larger than even his broad-shouldered and muscled frame - never the less springs into action. It's a blur, really, as he kicks the man with the gun into the other man before dumping Rojhaz on the gurney, then quickly, efficiently, kicks each of the staggering scientists in the jaw as they attempt to get up.

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Unfortunately her path takes her straight at someone leveling a gun in her direction.

There isn't time for warning, and there isn't guarantee that she'd react right even if he did, so Rojhaz is left to distract the others as she's hit by six foot two inch of armored man, pulling her tightly against himself and rolling so that the CA-RACK of the gun is secondary to the other shock.

And then Rojhaz is picking Sir Nicholas up as Sir Nicholas had him and shouting "Go!"

She doesn't have to worry about the doors anymore, though. The glass is gone from the number of bullets flying about.

(Also, Fury is roaring that he can run, but Rojhaz isn't putting him down.)

There are times when the brain simply refuses to process.

This is one of them.

If she took the time to process what was going on, she'd be dead. She doesn't know this (because that'd take time to actually realize), but some primal part of her brain that Globalsoft hasn't yet figured out how to breed out of the human race has decided that running is very good now, running away is very very good, and that is what should happen.

For once, her big, ugly, stompy boots hold her in good stead, and resist getting punctured by the broken glass as she scurries on ahead of Rojhaz.

When she gets time to think, that's when she'll go completely to pieces. There are benefits, sometimes, to not thinking.

Rojhaz, unlike the others, knows this world. This part of town. He knows who betrayed him, and how, and has suspicions for why. "This way!"

It takes a while for them to lose their followers, but eventually they're in a dirty, nasty part of town full of people who are staring at the two men and utterly dismissing the girl with them. Tattered, dark, grungy clothing is the norm around here. Sir Nicholas is finally set down and Rojhaz knocks on a door in a special pattern, then opens it.

"We'll be safe in here for a while. Fury, how badly are you hurt?"

Sir Nicholas grumbles something noncommittal. it would be more believable if it were not for the fact that the purple leather over his left shoulder is rapidly being coated in red.

Oh. My. God.

Ohmygod.

She. And then. He. And. The weapons. And.

She flails a little, to herself, as the events of the recent past start presenting themselves for review.

His armor is red.

It's supposed to be purple. Purple. With the pimp hat.

And. The glass. And alarms. And.

Blood is red.

And the yelling. And screaming. And alarms.

The thing about her dress is one less fold here or there really won't matter much. And it's relatively clean, considering her world isn't big on being outside ever.

Thus, there's a quick ripping sound, and then Fury has a pressure bandage (of sorts) held by one rather shell-shocked teen-aged girl.

She'll scream in a bit. Still processing.

"We need to get the armor off." Rojhaz says to Fury, who is a little busy saying, "I am fine, madam, really. I am fine."

"The hell you are, Fury, the bullet is still in there."

However hurt Sir Nicholas is, his right arm works just fine to grab Rojhaz' braids and drag him down so that he can hiss, hopefully too quietly for the girl to hear, "Reassure her, she has never seen a battle before."

Luckily for Rojhaz, she's not really hearing anything right now. She's just getting paler, and breathing a little faster, and her hands are shaking a little more, and she's getting a little more wall-eyed, and she's a little more (under pressure) lost, and a little more scared, and the fabric under her hands is slowly getting soaked, and...

They start is high-pitched keening noises that any terrified small creature might make, but they're rapidly progressing to full-on horror-movie-esque screams. She does have quite the set of lungs on her too.

"Shh, shhh, shhh." Rojhaz is pushed away roughly and Sir Nicholas turns to catch the girl as gently as he can, "Shh, I am alright, I promise. Mistress Sally, it is alright. Shhh."

She gulps, hard, shivering under his hands. This isn't right. This isn't right, people don't do this, this is insane, and...

And... they just did it, and she wants to go home. But home isn't here right now.

"Don't call me Sally." She retorts, not at all back to normal, but at least not shocky.

"That's my brave girl." Sir Nicholas says, "I'll get you back as soon as I can, I promise. I should not have brought you."

He runs one hand across her hair, like you would soothe a startled animal, and waits for her to stop shaking.

The bone-deep tremors, having nothing to do with cold and everything to do with fear and violence, slowly settle down as the world continues to fail to erupt in further fighting. She approves. Further fighting can just be put on indefinite hold.

"You're bleeding." She's naive as hell, easily frightened, and entirely out of her depth, but she's not stupid. "When you tackled me..."

"It is nothing."

Rojhaz's face says that he does not agree in the slightest.

"I promised you that I would not let you be hurt, child."

Fury is really scary. Really, really, terrifyingly scary. To the point she wasn't sure back there if following him or running the hell away from him was the best idea. But he protected her.

And now he's being an idiot. Sir Nicholas Fury earns his second 'you are being such a dur-brain' stare of the day. It's not quite as impressive as the first, but it's recognizable.
"Sir Boyzone here said you needed t'get the armor off, sunshine."

She isn't okay. She won't be okay for a long while. But he can't just sit there and bleed at her. That's stupid.

"Rojhaz."
"Steve Rogers." The two men speak in unison, look at each other, and shrug.

Sir Nicholas follows the shrug up with a wince, and starts slowly removing his armor, "I have been harmed worse, I do swear."

The fact that both of them knew who she was talking about tells her she pegged it in one. Never mind that there was only one person in the room besides her and Fury. It still worked.

"And I do swear if you don't get on with it I'll..." There's a brief, blank pause as she remembers just what Fury has done recently and her mind shudders away from that track altogether.
"I don't care."

"I am getting on, I am getting on." Sir Nicholas protests, peeling the armor off. His doublet is a complete mess and he will need a new one. And there is a small, round hole from which the blood is pouring. "I will not take offense, madam. And I will not harm you. My word."

He might need to repeat that later. She didn't quite register it, because she's too busy staring in shock at what the bullet has done to him.

She doesn't even know what a gun is, or a bullet for that matter, or why they make little round holes, or why he's bleeding so much from a little round hole, or...

Or why she doesn't feel that good as she stands rooted to the spot, her dark eyes wide and staring, hands (one a little bloody already) over her mouth. She'd be deeply mortified if she knew she was falling into the 'tragic weakling female heroine lead' role, if, you know, she could focus on something other than the damage done to Fury.

...

Here's hoping she doesn't get as far as extrapolating what a 'gun' or a 'bullet' might have done to her, if Fury hadn't been there. No one needs that screaming again.

"You don't want to watch this, ma'am." Rojhaz says, turning her away from the sight of the bleeding Fury.

Who hands over a small, thin knife which had been strapped to the inside of his arm before removing one of his leather gloves and biting into it hard.

He grunts while Rojhaz digs the bullet out, but that's all.

(Any universe that has a Nick Fury knows that he's far too badass to scream.)

She stays turned. She thinks she should stick it out, be stubborn and watch because he got hurt protecting her, but...

She stays turned. She's not at all sure she could bear watching. She is, in fact, pretty sure she couldn't.

So she just stands there, arms folded tight over her chest in a strange, protective sort of hug, waiting for it all to be over.

"The doublet's done for, Fury."
"I know. Use it for bandaging." comes from behind her, eventually, followed by, "It is over, child."

Sir Nicholas would like to think that he's too old for this shit. He'd like to think that it would make him tired to be doing this all over again.

He hasn't felt this alive since the queen was killed.

Slowly she turns around, quiet and subdued. Distantly she notes he didn't scream. She screamed, and nothing actually happened to her. He had... has? Still has? A hole in him, and he's just sitting there, looking a little goofy with purple shreds of cloth wrapped around his shoulder.

Shamefaced, she ducks her head. If he would think less of her for not going out in the mud...
"Sorry."

"There is no need to apologize." Sir Nicholas says quietly, "I have done this all of my life. You have never seen anything like before."

"Even if you were trained for it, ma'am, the first time out is always horrible. I get the feeling that you haven't had any training at all." Rojhaz agrees, "We're a couple of old soldiers, this is what we do."

After a moment she nods her understanding (that's one thing she's got down pat on this trip, she can nod like a pro). Since they don't have any complaints, she doesn't have much to berate herself for (other than, you know, coming through the door - she's still thinking that might have been a mistake, right there).

"Emphasis on the old." She offers tentatively, looking at Fury.

"Very old." Sir Nicholas agrees, "And getting older every day. Some day I hope that you will forgive me."

"..." That earns a blank stare while she tries to puzzle out what he's driving at. When she fails to come up with a reasonable answer (for tackling her? Um, that makes no sense), she informs him of as much.

"For...?"

"Bringing you here." Sir Nicholas states, "I should not have brought you into a place where violence was a guarantee, and I hope that one day you will forgive me it."

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