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It was dark. As if an opaque blanket was thrown over the world and forced the entire world to succumb to the void. It was eerie and painful, overall, the worst feeling someone could ever succumb to. Even the most stoic of soldiers wouldn't be able to handle such a vicious veil of darkness. It was awful.
Everything was too dark for Thermite's sanity. Not only that but it was too quiet. A silence that could drive anyone mad. And this silence was nerve-racking. Thermite wanted it to end. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare of emptiness. A world lacking anything. Voices, noises, scenery, air. Nothing. And it was suffocating. Where was the exit? Was there even an entrance? Where does it start, and where does it end? Could Thermite even get out? This feeling was unbearable and Thermite wanted it to end.
Was this what the afterlife felt like?
Then, he heard static in this harsh void of emptiness. A static that was familiar. A time of familiarity he couldn't quite put his tongue on but for some reason, he was grateful he heard something. Anything in this violent darkness. So, he tracked down the source. Hoping to find the area it came from. Maybe it might be able to help him in figuring out what this god-forsaken world was. So, he followed the source, but the closer he got, the harsher it became. As if the static shrieking got more vociferous and intense. It was unbearable. Thermite winced at the noise but he had to find the source. Maybe it could get him out. Until he found the source.
A radio.
A throbbing sensation raddled Thermite's brain before an agonizing wheeze escaped his lips. Gasping for air, he inhaled sharply before immediately regretting it once his lungs began to scream for air but also rejecting the intake of air. Coughing heavily, blood pooled from his lips as speckles of crimson shot up and sprawled out on the gravel beneath him. Blinking, he struggled to focus since his vision refused to render out the objects and colors in front of him. For a moment, it felt like blood was filling his eyes as he could feel the irritation in his sockets. It was an abhorrent feeling, but he tried to ignore it. He had to focus. He had to figure out what was going on. He had to figure out what situation he was in. He had to assess himself.
It took a few minutes for his vision to finally allow for speckles of shapes and colors to invade his vision. He saw snow. Clots of snow were scattered everywhere in the underground parking garage. And he was covered lightly in the speckles of snow. Reaching up to dust off the pieces, he noticed he couldn't move his arm. The action was made up in his brain since his brain believed his arm was moving. Yet it didn't move in sync with the illusion his brain made up. So he wasn't really focusing. How could he? His brain was on fire. Not only his brain but his body was screaming in discomfort. So, he pointed his head down slightly to observe the predicament he was in.
He was elevated upwards just slightly. At least thirty degrees off the ground level. But he was crushed. Pieces of gravel crushed his lower body and part of his upper body. The only mobility he has is from a bit of his torso and up. But even then, he couldn't move anything. His body felt cold. Shivering from the frequent gust of wind blowing down towards him from the hole above him. How was it caused again? Judging by the dust clouds in the air and the soot decorating the gravel and faint charring present on a few nearby bodies, it could be the result of an explosion. Did Thermite cause another explosion? Of course not. He was careful when it came to his charges. And this was too big to cause with just his exo-thermic charges. This was caused by something else. Something a bit more destructive.
But what?
Thermite didn't have the mental power to process this. He had to figure out his situation. But he couldn't really do much in his state. His chest felt so compressed since a bit of gravel was pressed down in this area. Wasn't entirely a lot, he had some mobility in his torso, but why risk it? He could push it off of his chest if he had the strength to do it. But it was better to save what he had leftover rather than risk it.
Plus, he didn't think he could move it anyways. It was better to keep this illusion than to try and prove he was strong when in reality, he was terribly weak. Extremely tired. And dehydrated. His lips felt so cold, but it could be because the shrilling winter wind kept whispering past his face.
Why did Canada have to be so cold?
Right! Canada! A mission. He was on a mission. This was a mission. A mission gone wrong. What was the mission? Defuse? Defuse something. Something had to be defused.
Thermite winced as he felt his brain screaming. He couldn't think right now. Thinking too much strength away from him. Right now, he had to relax. Yeah. Relax
No!
Stay awake. He had to stay awake. This weather was unforgiving. A moment of weakness and the blizzard would take him away. Luckily, he had some winter clothes, but it did nothing. His uniform was charred from the explosion. Right. It was an explosion. Suicide explosion.
Pieces began to formulate as Thermite remembered the alert as he tried to defuse the explosive. Then, as quickly as it appeared, he was falling. That pasty white suit frightened him as it approached him so quickly. Deep breathing heavily before the blast went off from the suicide bombers device. And that bomb activated the major bomb and before Thermite realized what was going on, he fell through the floor. Nearly six, maybe five feet under. Debris, metal, everything was on top of him. Crushing him. His lungs burned from the weight and the icy air he inhaled. His body was on fire. And he was in pain. Agonizing pain.
How long has it been since he was down here?
Seconds? No, it has to be minutes. Maybe hours. Who knew, time was elusive anyways. It's not like Thermite could see a clock right now, let alone tell if it was day or night. All he knew was that he was cold. Cold and on the verge of collapse. His body was failing him. Shivering from the cold and powering down from the lack of blood. Minor and major injuries were sustained from the blast, but he couldn't address anything. Let alone hold his wounds to stop the bleeding. So for now, he just has to hope he could stay awake before the cold takes over. Or outlive the concussion. It was a long fall. And he did hit the ground pretty hard. Landing on a few elevated pieces of debris in such a manner he thought his spine was fractured. Maybe it was.
He couldn't focus on his injuries, not yet at least. He has to figure a way out of here. That was until his hearing decided to function correctly. The awful ringing ended and he was left with a vicious shrill from the windstorm. This was a blessing since his hearing was finally coming back to him. He didn't hear a constant ringing rattling his brain. He actually heard the snowstorm just outside the building.
Grand
Which meant he could possibly call out for something. Someone? Maybe he'll talk later on. His throat felt dry. Almost burning in an icy hot mixture. An awful mix that left him breathless. It was because of this odd mixture that he was left motionless. His body was fighting with the sensation of feeling extremely hot or terribly cold. It was hard to pick a side. But then, his ears detected something. An almost jittery noise. Static? It sounded like static.
Wasn't this the same static he heard in that awful void? Where nothing was possible?
But there it was. Clear as day. Directly within view of his line of hearing. It was there. That radio from his dreams. So, he followed the source. His movement was slow. Painfully slow. If he moved any faster, he'd get a headache and his vision, including his hearing, were going to fail him. So, he had to take it slow. Allow his ears and eyes to render out the world slowly before moving to continue. But none of it was in vain. He found the radio. Broken, and barely producing a perfect signal, yet it was receiving one since the static was proving that it worked. Great. Now, he just had to reach for it. It was within arm's length, luckily. But his body didn't move.
Thermite groaned in anguish as he tried to focus all of his strength on his right arm. If he could just straighten it out. Reach for the device, everything else would be fine. He'll find a frequency that works, radio for help, and get evac. That's a good plan, wasn't it?
If only his arms decided to work.
Focusing every last ounce of strength he had reserved, Thermite was able to shake his right arm away. Perfect. It moved. Meaning he wasn't paralyzed. Amazing. Now, all he had to do was move towards the device. It was a struggle. An aching struggle. Each inch towards the device made his body scream in discomfort. As if he was tearing something. Almost as if he was tearing his arm off. Until he finally reached it out enough to touch the device. For once, he was shocked that he didn't feel the device. He couldn't feel the cold metallic touches or the ridged patches from the keypad.
At first, he wanted to blame it on the burns tainting his arms. Of course, he lost feeling in certain areas. But this was different. He didn't feel it at all. He didn't even realize his hand clenched around the device and pulled it towards him. His brain was short-circuiting as it was falling behind the movements he performed. A type of lag. This shouldn't be possible. He was trained to have a sharp sense of awareness. Then he caught on to his situation. Right, he was trapped. Concussed, bleeding, and cold. His brain was going to lag a bit.
He was losing this battle. First, it was the lack of feeling he received, now, his brain was falling behind. Great. Guess this was a bit more serious than he originally believed. He had to get out of here before nightfall. Or was it already nightfall? Didn't look like nightfall since he saw a bit of light radiating from above him. Maybe it was from the lights in the building, regardless it was soothing to know that some light was still noticeable. Even if the garage held faint traces of parking lights, he had a major source above him.
Shaking his head faintly, he held the radio up as he tried to find a frequency with one hand. It was difficult. He dropped the radio a few times and had to struggle to pick it back up, but eventually, he was able to finally get it back into his hands and find a channel. His head began to scream from the voices invading the channel. Everything was so loud. But he didn't hear static anymore, so that was a plus.
"Come in! Thermite! Pick up the damn radio!"
"Thermite! Radio us back in! Pick up now!"
"Thermite!? Buddy are you there?! Come on! Answer us!"
"Radio silence isn't funny anymore dude. Answer the radio! Come on!"
"Jordan...please, give us a signal. Show us that yeh 're still alive. Please"
His friends were so loud. Everyone was screaming through the radio, desperately trying to get a response out of him, but one voice stood out over all the others. He knew that British voice. He knew it well. That thick, yet stern accent held warmth behind its tone. Yeah, he knew that voice well. If only he could respond to him. Thermite didn't have the strength to speak. His throat felt hoarse and he tasted blood on his tongue. But everyone was desperate. He could hear his friends becoming panicked. But what made it worse was the fact he could hear the heartache in Thatcher's voice. The Brit didn't want to bury another body in the ground. He didn't want to add Thermite to the collection of another soldier he lost in battle. Another body he couldn't save. Another dog tag to add to his collection.
So, Thermite mustered up his strength and tried to speak. Yet his hand was numb. He couldn't push the buttons. He had to think of a way to activate this radio without using up too much strength. Because this was costing a lot of energy. Looking around slowly, he found a wedge not too far from him. Maybe he could wedge the device between them so that it would always activate the button to allow for easy communication. He used all of his remaining energy to wedge the device inside the cracks and then a buzzing noise emitted from the radio. He got it. It was on. He could speak.
"Jordan!? Jordan?! Are you there! Your signal is getting through!"
"兄弟?! You there?! Jordan!?"
He had to speak. He had to say something. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats. Waiting for him to come through. Waiting for someone to come through. Anything. Anything but this violent shrieking from the windstorm just outside. Laying his head back against the speckles of debris, he tried to find the words, but nothing came out. He couldn't speak even if he tried. And this frustrated him.
"Give me the radio...Jordan, can you hear me? If so, try to reach for the 1 on the radio. If you can talk, press 2, if not, then 3" Doc's voice filled the frequency as he was the only logical one to think of other possibilities than him being unconscious.
Thermite did as instructed. Lightly pressing one just enough to send the signal out. And everyone rejoiced. He could hear most of them breathe a sigh of relief in the action. Thermite's heart fluttered as he gave a weak smile. At least he eased the tension off of them. Then, he pressed the third button. Communication was hard for him. He couldn't speak. His voice refused to work. Regardless, he could tell that some of the operators were actually frustrated by this gesture. Not at him, but that his predicament was so critical that he couldn't speak.
"Okay, good, you can hear us. Great. Now, what I need from you is for you to tell us your predicament. Since you're moving, you are not paralyzed. Okay, are there any critical wounds? Press 1 for yes, 2 for no" Doc informed.
Thermite pressed the first digit. He had a gash wound that was oozing rather quickly. But he couldn't address it. Yet for some reason, the debris that was crushing him was compressing the wound. Stopping the bleeding slightly but not by much. And the new wound he felt was a rod impaling him. He felt it penetrating his hip bone. A serve location which also affected his legs slightly. But he knew his knees were crushed.
"Bon sang...Can you feel anything? Is the cold affecting you too much?"
Thermite pressed two for the first question. He couldn't feel anything. He didn't even know if his fingers were moving. They just reached out and touched the radio. He didn't even tell his hands to move. His brain was lagging so much it wasn't even funny. What made it worse was that his vision was fading in and out. Doc asked two questions correct? What was the second one? Accidentally, he pressed zero. Was that one or two? What were the numbers again?
"Jordan?" Pulse questioned with concern in his voice
"He might be majorly concussed. We need to move quickly. For once, I guess you'll be working with me Ace"
"Awe, I knew it you loved me"
"Don't push it connard" Lion snapped back, invading their conversation.
What was going on? Lion was attacking who? Thermite blinked as he tried to adjust his vision to render out the radio but he couldn't comprehend the device nor the numbers on the gadget. The voices were becoming hard to understand. Who was talking?
"Jordan! Jordan, listen to me. Pay attention to me right now. It may seem inviting but yeh can't go to kip. Not right now. Stay awake" Thatcher informed as the faint shrieking of propellers could be heard over his voice. Were they coming to get him? Really?
"B-but...I'-I'm so...tired" Thermite mustered as he lowered his head.
He felt it sinking down from fatigue as his vision finally decided to give up. All he had was his hearing. But even that was failing him. His head was getting heavy, and he couldn't keep it up nor could he stay awake.
"Listen to me, I know it's tiring but yeh need to stay awake for us. For me. Come on, we can talk the whole time. Just...don't go to sleep"
"Di-did yo-u cl-ean th-the s-tove...af-ter...th..that me-eal yo-u tr-ied to-to make me?" Thermite asked, deciding to indulge in Thatcher's suggestion. Keep him talking. Keep him awake. Keep his mind off of his situation.
"yeh were the one to nearly blow up the kitchen. But yes, I got it cleaned. Next time, leave it to me to make meals okay?"
"Whe...res the fun...in-in that" Thermite coughed terribly as his lungs burned from the action.
Blood spilled from his lips as he spat out the clots clogging up his throat. Everyone heard the moist cough leaving his lips, and everyone could tell that it was hurting just by the way he wheezed afterward. He tried to open his eyes, but he wouldn't be able to see anything. Nothing would render in. So, he was forced to succumb to the void.
"I-If i-I die here...I-I just wa-wanted to s-say...th-that you-you ma-ke me...happy"
"Don't talk fancy that Jordan. Yeh won't die... y'r just cold...I promise we'll get yeh out of 'ere and I'll let ye sing that horrible country song to me on repeat...as much as yeh want...just don't leave me"
"S-Seamus s-said you-you li-liked t-tha-t so-ng"
"Of course...just...stay awake" Thermite hummed a shallow response. One that was barely audible.
Blood trickled from his lips as he hung over watching it form into a puddle. Strange. Was it always this color? It held traces of saliva making it a bit clearer, but he still saw the red swirling around in the pool. All of the voices became distant. Once calm communication turned into frantic commands. Thermite couldn't move to reply. He couldn't strain his voice anymore. But his hand was still close to the radio. So, he went back to square one. Pressing the one button. He just kept pressing it. Not repetitively, but constantly to tell everyone he was still active. He couldn't sleep, not yet. And that was enough to keep everyone hopeful.
What felt like hours, turned into minutes as Thermite heard voices above him. He couldn't move. He was constantly pressing one to give everyone reassurance. But once he heard that familiar British accent, he rejoiced internally. So they didn't forget about him. He wasn't going to be left alone here.
"Jordan! Still with us?!" Hibana called out.
Fearful for her friend's life. The concern in her voice is a similar fright his sister and mother had once they discovered what happened to his hands. Of course, Hibana would be fearful for him. Thermite treated her like a sister, and she treated him like a brother. But she was here. Hoping he would give her a sign. When did it get so dark? Did the power cut out? No, it was always this dark. His brain plagued him with the illusion that it was bright so he would feel some form of comfort. His brain really was powering down. Using such a small ounce of power. Lights went off as Thermite could see the blinding searchlights inspecting the area for him. He wanted to yell, wave to them in the void so that their search could be easier, but all he could do was lay there. Motionless.
But he had a light himself. With what little strength he had left, he reached for the broken light on his chest and hoped it still worked. It flickered weakly, but it gave enough light to alert everyone in his direction.
"Down here! I found him!"
"Doc! He's over here!" Ash ordered motioning for Doc to catch up.
Ropes were soon dropped as bodies eventually glided down to Thermite. He didn't see anyone. He couldn't see anyone.
"Told yeh lad, we'll find ye" Thatcher smiled as he fell slightly into Thermite's vision.
The American smiled meekly as Doc soon approached the scene. Gently, his head was lifted up as a flashlight shined in his eyes. His pupils don't dilate like they were supposed to. He didn't even flinch when the light shined in his face. He was truly numb to everything.
"He has a subconjunctival hemorrhage in his eyes, and is on the verge of a stroke. We need to move him quickly" Doc ordered.
"We're going to use the litter to get him out" Ace informed as he gave the order to the soldiers above.
Thermite watched them move around as they each rushed from one place to another to remove the debris on top of him. That was until it came down to the last major piece that crushed his legs and impaled him in the hip. The moment the debris was lifted into the air, an excruciating shrill left Thermite's lips as it was slowly being pulled up. His brain was on fire and the voices began to fade out. Eventually, a dark void swallowed his mind and he was eventually forced to succumb to it. No matter how hard he fought, it wasn't going to work. He lost. At least he got to see Thatcher one final time.
The void felt like it was going to stay forever. But luckily, this time, it wasn't as unbearable as the first time. There was a bit more of life here. But Thermite didn't want to stay. And before long, lights began to fill the void as faint voices began to invade his ears. He knew these voices. Blinking, he tried his best to adjust and this time, it was a bit easier. Still harsh colors and unusual shapes, but he pulled through.
"Jordan?!"
"I'll go get Doc!" Mute panicked as he scurried out of the room leaving Thatcher alone with the American. It was an unbearable sight indeed, but Thatcher was glad he awoke. Those shimmering blue eyes surveillanced the area before catching his own eyes. A goofy smile found its way on Thermite's lips as he tried to show he was doing good.
"Do somethin' fancy that again, and I'll kill ye myself..." Thatcher mumbled as he tried to return a smile but it was hard.
Especially when he was fearful of what Thermite might do again. Since his agonizing shriek from a few days ago left everyone in shock. He blacked out so quickly that no one was able to fully understand what the problem was. Was it them removing the debris? Or did something bust internally and just now caused him pain? Question
"Wow...missed...you too" Thermite croaked as he gave a weak smile
"Damn it Jordan...I thought I lost ye"
"Still alive...tak-takes mo-more than that to take me out. I'm like a cockroach"
"Ye nearly gave me a heart attack! I nearly had a panic attack when we found ye! Pull some type of stunt like that again and I'll beat the shit out of ye! Never dae that again, and never talk like that again... ye fucking idiot ye damn fool. Fucking blood pressure was rising because of ye" Thatcher barked as he laid his head on the bed.
Tightly squeezing Thermite's hand. Hoping none of this was a dream. Thermite returned the gesture softly since he didn't have full strength to return it in full force.
"Doc did say...you...need to-to learn to...relax more"
"How can a man relax around ye"
"You love me"
"Sadly" Thermite snickered as he lightly bumped Thatcher who merely chuckled.
Not being able to be mad at Thermite for too long. Something about the American always brought a smile to his face. Always made him feel excited and jittery. He'll never let this feeling go. No matter what. Squeezing Thermite's hand again, he gave a weak smile to the cheerful American who was still rendering out everything. Even in the darkest of moments, he found a way to smile. Never again. He'll never let something like that happen again.