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The others had gone to bed… not to keen on trying to slip through the gaps Dr. Gibson had found to get into level three of the office sector, and possibly beyond. She stood off of her makeshift bed and grabbed her pack, heading out of the cafeteria and toward the tangle of ventilation shafts she’d found.
She tied her hair back and crawled in, climbing a vertical shaft with relative ease and clambering out the top. Steel bars blocked the way forward, so she went the only other direction. Left.
“Choo!” Gibson sneezed; it was rather dusty in the vents- Surely that couldn’t be up to standard. Something to note when this mess was cleared up, she thought, literally and figuratively… maybe she’d get the person responsible for all of this to do it with a toothbrush. A faint light glowed up ahead, and the hum of computers told her she was approaching a lab of some sort-
“Who’s there?” A harsh voice barked.
“… depends. Which of you dang researchers is that?” Dr. Gibson deadpanned.
“Researcher? Filthy Promethean-“
Dr. Gibson’s heart skipped two paces- She hadn’t heard that kind of language used in years. Not since she last saw her uncles… carefully, she crawled out of the ventilation shaft. Leaning against a whiteboard ahead of her, was a soldier belonging to The Order. Something she was all too familiar with. He was injured, wearing Triarii armor, but a Legate face mask. His hands clenched over a wound in his side, bleeding profusely despite them.
“If you know what’s good for you, for everyone, you will not open that portal.” The grunt snarled.
“I’m not here to open any portal- Hold still.” The doc demanded as he tried to get up. She moved to his side and pushed him back to the floor. Gibson grabbed her pack off of her back and reached in, shuffling through quickly.
“What in the-“ He blinked, but was cut off by her flicking his nose.
“Shut up and breathe slow. You lose blood faster the faster your heart rate.” She huffed, finding the bandages she was searching for. His face went incredibly confused as the woman pried away his hands and started packing the wound. The Triari took a slow, deep breath and looked aside, his face scrunching up slightly as she worked. “I know it’s tender- But if I’m going to keep you alive-“
“Why? Don’t you know what we’re here for?” He growled.
“I have not a darned clue, you’re the first Order soldier I’ve seen here.” Gibson shook her head, focusing on stopping the bleeding. It was at least slowing down now.
“We… we were sent to kill you… to clear out you filthy Prometheans.” He huffed.
“Well… that changes my plans for the future a bit, but I’m still going to help you.” The doctor deadpanned, finally stopping the bleeding. “Look, the whole thing between G.A.T.E. and the Order… it’s a heck of a misunderstanding. I was trying to work something out before this happened… Kinda screwed me here.” She sighed. “Now, do you have any other injuries?” She asked as she wrapped his torso in bandages.
“I… I’ll be fine.”
“Broke something?”
“No-“
“It’s your leg isn’t it-“
“Are you listening to me?!”
“No, I’m not. Because you’re probably lying, because you know if you’ve got a broken leg I’m going to insist on helping you further, and how would that look to your Legate?” The Doc deadpanned. “… he doesn’t need to know I helped you. I can help you limp as close to them as possible without being noticed, then split before you call them over. Alright?” She sighed.
“… Alright... at least I'm not under Messor Tria.” The Triari conceded
“I'm going to assume he's an ass... I’m going to splint it first, then we’ll get you up.” Dr. Gibson warned, grabbing a splint from her bag and shuffling backward to get a look at his leg- “Ouch. Yeah. That’ll do it.” She cringed, only now seeing the bone poking through his armor. “Deep breath, don’t punch me if you can avoid it.” He nodded, then snarled as she set his leg, splinting it to keep it in place. The woman got under his shoulder and helped him up, not letting him put much weight on his bad leg.
“More than an ass... he's committing atrocities. It's disgusting... You’re stronger than you look.” The male grumbled.
“Noted... and I grew up around only guys, except my mother who worked on a farm most of her life.” Gibson chuffed. “Now, slow and steady, tell me where I’m going.”
The soldier guided her through level three, and to an elevator with restricted access. Pulling an electronic device from his pack and putting it on the keypad seemed to unlock it. The pair carefully limped in, resting against the wall as it took them down into manufacturing.
“There, just set me against the wall of that building.”
“The one with a machine gunner on top?” She deadpanned.
“He won’t notice, he’s been dead-set on getting the guy in the crane for a while now.”
“Good flucking luck with that.” Gibson snorted. They got to the outside of the building and she let him down, having him sit so as not to disturb his leg. “Now. I’m going to get out of here, whistle for them, do not get up on your own. If you do, I will throw a wrench at you.” She huffed.
“Fine, fine… you’d be a decent Exsurgo.” He blepped.
“I was always more interested in being an Inquisitor.” She chuffed, turning and walking away… when she was out of sight, he whistled long and loud. Two Triarii looked at each other, then headed toward the sound with their rifles raised.
“Sinagra?! What happened to you- Your squad said you were dead!” The taller yelped, hurrying to him. “Go get the Exsurgo-“ He ordered his ally, who nodded and sprinted off. “Who… who patched you up?”
“I don’t recall… seemed like an angel made of fire.” He muttered.