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Getting shot in the foot is not a great way to make friends.
Getting shot in the foot by the woman of your dreams, though, makes for a great story—How did you two meet? She shot me in the foot and led a full-fledged assault against my base with every intention of killing me.
If they ever get off this frozen wasteland of a planet, that is. No one around to tell that story to.
Oh, and the fact that they’re still in the Ohio is trying to kill me phase is a bit of a hang up as well.
Sherry doesn’t believe for a second that Ohio, Iowa, and Idaho are actually trying to kill her and her teammates. And if they are, they fucking suck at their job.
But Sherry is great at reading body language, and the entire campaign against her base has been a series of pulled punches, dodges, and retreats, meaning they’re squeamish, not serious, or both.
And Sherry’s had a lot of fun playing along.
Midnight raids, afternoon skirmishes, mid-morning bombings—Sherry hasn’t had this much action for years. She thinks she could go on for decades, and while Terrill and Darryl might not feel the same, they definitely seem glad for the change of pace.
Today is no different—the three of them barely have time to scarf down their MREs before an explosion rocks their base.
“We’re under attack!” Sherry cries, leaping from her chair and yanking her helmet onto her head.
“We noticed,” Darryl says, but he rises from his chair and pulls his helmet on as well. Terrill’s already in his helmet. Barely takes the thing off.
“Battle stations!” Sherry cries, ignoring her teammate’s sass. The three of them sprint from the mess hall in opposite directions.
It sounded like the explosion came from the hangar, even though it’s the most strategically useless places to bomb. No ships. No jeeps. Nothing.
Sherry heads in that direction while Terrill heads to the control room and Darryl makes for higher ground.
“One hostile up ahead, Sherry,” Terrill informs her over comms. He must’ve made it to the control room already.
“Roger that, Terrill,” Sherry says. She checks the clip in her rifle. Full. Touches the spare ammo attached to the left hip of her armor. Secure.
Sherry reaches the hangar in record time and lets off a warning shot.
“Wherever you are, you better surrender now, or your ass is grass!” She yells.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you!”
Ohio.
The shout comes from somewhere to Sherry’s left, but she can’t see anything beyond the cloud of smoke billowing out of… a Warthog?
“Terrill, you picking up anyone else?” Sherry asks.
“No, it’s just the one,” Terrill’s voice crackles over the radio.
No. Way. Ohio crashed the Warthog.
“And I thought Iowa was bad at driving!” Sherry taunts.
“Hey, fuck you, that was all part of a… part of my plan!” Ohio shoots back. Her voice is closer now, and Sherry pivots towards the sound, rifle raised.
“What plan was that, exactly? Destroying the last mode of transportation on the planet?” Sherry asks.
“I—just—you know, fuck this!” Ohio lets out a shriek and before Sherry can react a blue blur bursts from the smoke and she’s knocked to the ground.
Pinned, Sherry tilts her head to look up at Ohio, who is heaving like she’s just run a marathon.
“You come here often?” Sherry asks. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees her rifle, wonders how long she can keep Ohio distracted before Darryl gets into position.
“What?” Sherry doesn’t know what Ohio looks like under her helmet, but she imagines that her face scrunches up, and she bets it’s adorable as hell. “Are you—are you flirting with me?!”
“That depends,” Sherry says. “Is it working?”
“Look, we’re at war, I don’t have time for a relationship,” Ohio says.
Oh, ho?
“So you do like me!” Sherry cries, triumphant.
“I n—” Ohio doesn’t get to finish. A shot rings through the hangar and Sherry’s attacker lets out a scream of pain. “FUCK!”
“Success!” Darryl cheers over the radio.
“Did you get her?” Terrill asks.
“Heck yeah I did, I think this calls for some drinks!”
“White Russians?”
“Naturally.”
“Shut up both of you!” Sherry snaps.
By this time, Ohio’s already started limping towards the hangar doors. Looks like Darryl grazed her thigh. Payback’s a bitch, Sherry wants to say. Instead she grabs her rifle and fires at Ohio, missing by several meters.
“Hey come back, I didn’t get your number!” Sherry calls after her.
Pausing just before she reaches the snowy wasteland outside the base, Ohio looks over her shoulder at Sherry.
“If you want me, come and get me!” she yells. Then, lifting her pistol, she fires off six rounds, most of them aimed at the sky.
Sherry hits the ground, grinning as she watches Ohio shuffle out of the base.
If you want me, come and get me.
Sherry is tempted. Sooo tempted. But when the woman of your dreams shoots you in the foot, declares a war doomed to deadlock, and crashes a Warthog into your base, you’ve got to be patient. Why the rush?
Besides, Sherry is having the most fun she’s had in years, and it’s time to prepare for the afternoon skirmish.