The spotter stares with wide eyes at the sight of the soldier walking down the steep tunnel floor, with the medic aiding him, arms slung around his shoulder, leading his foot with hers. It's clear that there are several broken bones on the man, in the manner of his walking: a wince every step.
"Holy ****! What happened?"
"He got bruised up a bit covering our exit. It's okay, I've got the stuff to fix him up until we get to a hospital."
"It's nothing, trust me. I've been through--ah!--worse."
The spotter follows up on the other side of the soldier and helps him limp to a rock. He sinks down on it with a sigh of exhaustion and pain. The medic turns and grabs her laptop, and taps the power button. She hums as it begins to boot up.
Sounds of the continuing battle outside echo down into the tunnels. As the medic begins typing up the program for the Patches, the soldier turns to the spotter with a glare.
"What the **** happened out there? Didn't you have enough information before beginning this-this-this.....war?!"
The spotter stammers and mops sweat off his brow. Despite his Russian-sounding name, the man contains a Middle-Eastern appearance. His large nose twitches nervously, and his larger eyebrows glisten with sweat.
"I-I-I don't know! We had it all set up, th-the SWAT Team, the Mechanics, everything! There were only supposed to be about a dozen of his top men in the building with him, and they should've surrendered at his deletion..."
"What makes you so--ah!--what makes you so sure that that...silohuete in the window was even him?! It could've been anyone! He could still be alive. Hell, he could be leading his troops out there!"
The air shimmers, and blood on the soldier's face begins dissipating. Only the medic, with her Pather-sanctioned eyepiece, can see the healing effects of her coding.
"No, Ice Man, the window curtains weren't shut until just the--"
"Stop calling me Ice Man, **** it," the soldier growls fiercely.
A shadow crosses the medic's face, and she suddenly leans towards the soldier's face, until their noses are centimeters apart. Their glares matched, eye-for-black-eye.
"Hey, buddy, you got a name we can call you, a nickname, that's fine with me. Otherwise, shut the **** up and let me finish patching you up."
She pulls away and continues tapping away at her keyboard rapidly. The soldier's glare holds for a few seconds, but it wavers. A few seconds later they shut as he leans back into the tunnel wall, fast asleep.
The medic and spotter trade continue working...
The medic continues rapidly punching in commands on her laptop.
The spotter takes out his cell phone to place a call.
