/vt/ - Virtual Youtubers

Briefly forgetting about your orders to stay close to Botan if something happened, you make a run for it. You wanted to get a better look at whatever was evading your squad so easily, whatever had managed to bring down Johnson and Porter so easily. But you hadn’t even made it ten feet away from your squad leader when the sudden pinging of bullets hitting the ground catches you off guard. There was another ambusher, somewhere to your left. You shift around, shining your flashlight between the trees. You only catch a glimpse of the second gunman before your body is struck with a few rounds. One punches a hole through your left bicep, sending searing pains up and down your arm. Another one gets lodged in your shin, causing your leg to buckle underneath you as your body threatens to sway and drop. And a final shot punctures your side at a shallow angle, narrowly missing your ribcage as you find yourself overwhelmed in the blink of an eye. By sheer muscle memory, you try to shift your weight and throw yourself behind a tree for cover. But your body is unable to compensate for the sudden damage, and you end up lurching forward as you hit the cool, dirty forest floor.

In your several years of experience, you’d never actually been shot before.

Once your brain caught up with what happened to you, it felt as though you’d been punched with the strongest, spiked glove of pure iron. Again, out of sheer instinct, you try to stand up and drag yourself to cover. Your arm doesn’t cooperate. Your leg doesn’t cooperate. Your mind is sending off the right signals, but your body suddenly doesn’t seem up for the task. You have noticed, vaguely, that the hail of gunfire has stopped. You expected a fourth round to pierce your skull, but nothing was happening. They might have been reloading. Just as you were starting to wonder where Botan was, you felt a mighty gust of wind just over your head as something leapt over your body. You heard footsteps thundering into the distance, followed by a sound that was akin to a woman roaring in anger. Was that your squad leader, charging the enemy like a lion?

It didn’t take long for the sudden screaming and sounds of flesh being ripped to reach your ears. Botan didn’t sound like she was in pain. In fact, it was more like she was snarling. You couldn’t see what was happening from your position, but you hoped and prayed that she had the upper hand. A strange sensation of both warmth and coolness were filling your body. Hot blood was dribbling out from your wounds, staining your uniform and giving you the uncomfortable feeling of being wet. You supposed the cold clutching at your limbs was from the blood leaving your body as opposed to circulating within it. You suck in a deep breath, struggling to stay conscious, as the sounds of the fight die down. You were slowly becoming more and more preoccupied with the thought of not bleeding out, and that distracted you from how Botan had fared in combat.

A deep sense of relief fills you as you recognize her boots stepping closer and closer, followed by the familiar, heavy breathing she had after a fight. Botan drops down to her knees, carefully rolling you over as she starts to examine your wounds.

“I don’t hear anyone else,” she whispers, and for the first time, you hear a strange quiver in her voice. You can see the twitching of her lion ears. “But I need to get you out of here. It’s not safe.”

“Wh-what about our objecti-” you start to stammer, followed by a hot wash of shame - your voice has shot up several octaves as you fight against the throbbing agony that was your bullet wounds. But Botan pressed a couple of fingers to your lips, causing you to trail off in silence. You couldn’t help but notice that her hand was soaked in blood, and that she couldn’t stop trembling. There was a reddish gleam in her eyes as she seemed to be focusing more on your face than your body.

“Never mind that. I’m guessing you can’t walk… Hold still and keep your arms around me,” Botan instructs, slipping her arms gingerly underneath your body. You wince and hiss as she accidentally grazes the wound in your side, and you hear her mumble a tiny apology. With at least one functioning arm, you sling it across Botan’s shoulder and grip as hard as you can. Embarrassment briefly takes over, your cheeks turning pink as she easily hefts you into her embrace.