Private Pulled from the Ash

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin //:
//: Bespin Gas Company Locker Room - Arena, Ruusan //:
//: Attire //:

The hiss of a shower stall echoed across the tiled locker room. Hot. Everything still felt hot. CT-312 dragged herself into the Bespin Locker Room. Every breath that passed through her helmet’s filters. Metallic. Shallowed and strained. Where was she?

Oh yeah. A Kaggath tournament. Round Two. Her eyelids heavy as the memory hit. Platform. The first grenade with the mist made her sick. The second one. Incendiary. CT-312’s world became swallowed in heat and screaming sensors. Fire. Phantoms in the blaze. Ghosts around her. Centered in the flames that erupted from the grenade. The bell sounded. Round Two was over. She was ‘alive’. Somehow. For now… ‘Ha.’ A sound rasped out of her. Dry and cracked. A single painful breath that tried to be a chuckle and failed on the way out. It hurt. Everything hurt.

CT-312’s boots thudded with deadened weight. Thud... thud... thud… Each step echoed in the tunnel of the arena as she headed back to the locker room. Her combatglove hissed faintly as it discharged the last of its internal Bacta stim. CT-312 felt it surge through her body. It wasn’t relief. But obligation.

It was strong enough to keep her organs and body from collapsing. From going into a shutdown spiral. Unfortunately she’d injected too much since during her match. Too quickly. The chemical recovery had dulled. Slowed. Sluggish healing. Diminished return. Barely enough to keep her upright.

Entering the locker room, CT-312 peeled her armor off piece by piece. Chestplate slipped from her now shaking hands. Clattering on the floor by the door. Pauldrons dropped in the middle of the room. A trail of blackened armor was left on the ground as she headed towards the individual stalls. The furthest one in the locker room.

Hiissss. Water from the shower head came pouring out. Set to the coldest. CT-312 stepped inside. Closing the curtain. Turning, she pressed her back against the slick tile wall… and sank. First to a crouch. Then to the floor. Her legs gave out. Extended as she sat. Her head drooped forward. Breath rasped inside the helmet. Fogging faintly around the edges. Her right arm laid at her side. Gauntlet still attached. Barely functional. Struggling to take the bracelet off on top.

The rest of her armor from the waist down was still equipped. Blackened. Scorched. As the water hit her with a steady hiss. Her body no longer screamed. It whispered. Throbbed. A low slow pain pulsing. CT-312 didn’t know how long she sat there. But the ‘rain’ didn’t stop.

As the water hit her helmet, dull thuds and thin streams echoed inside like soft drumbeats. CT-312’s eyes watched as the water streaked across. Her cracked visor displayed a distorted HUD. A red smeared bleeding red blur. Icons blinked. Warning flashed and flickered like emergency beacons no one would answer.

[SYSTEM CRITICAL FAILURE]
[WARNING: FRACTURE RIGHT FOREARM DETECTED]
[WARNING: INTERNAL BLEEDING DETECTED]
[WARNING: OVEREXPOSURE TO HEAT]
[WARNING: HEALTH STABILITY CRITICAL]

CT-312’s used whatever strength she had to tilt her head back. Her helmet clunked softly against the tiled wall behind her. Letting gravity hold her up for once as a dull thok echoed faintly from the curtain of falling water. She didn’t blink.

She was in a sick kind of limbo. Too alive to pass out. Too damaged to stand. The healing would work. Eventually. But not soon… and not without scars. Her hand twitched once. Then stilled. And above it all, the sound of water kept falling. Staring half lidded into the ‘rain’.

Silent. Burnt. Alive.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: CT-312 //:
//: Attire //:

She had seen all of it. Every moment that exploded in that arena.

Three she knew, all had lost, but the one she cared about could not do what the others could do. They were force users, possessing the ability to heal and move on from this fight. 312 was different. The trooper was unstoppable and, as far as Quinn knew, unkillable.

Until now.

Quinn moved through the crowd as they prepared for the next fight. There was a lot of excitement lined up for the crowds going into the semi-finals. Quinn had wanted to watch Mercy and the Sith Champion, but all of that went out the door when she could feel 312 struggling.

Panic made her move faster, fluid through the crowd as she ran towards the Bespin Gas locker room. A guard tried to stop her, but she pushed through him, and he fell onto his side. The door shut behind her as she stepped over the scattered bits of armor. She could feel the heat radiating off of them. The armor was obviously designed beautifully, but 312 pushed it to its limit.

Looking around, Quinn didn't see where the trooper was. "312!" she shouted and put her arms up, holding her head as she tried to think where else the trooper could be hiding.

The water.

It echoed in her ears, and she quickly turned towards the showers. It was there she saw the small trooper looking smaller than she had ever seen her.

"312!" she shouted again and ran towards her, sliding quickly to move closer and climb into the shower. The moment she got close enough, that sickening feeling pulled at her stomach.

Quinn gasped, knowing exactly what caused the feeling. She remembered that the trooper had bits of armor that nullified the Force. Quinn pulled at the bracer, unlatching it and burning the tips of her fingers doing so. Despite the water, the trooper was still burning up.

Tossing the bracer aside, Quinn reached forward and brushed the girl's hair from her face.

"312, what the fuck were you thinking?!" Her voice panicked as the Force came back.

Quinn could feel her heart starting to give out; she was cooked from the armor and the explosives.

She cursed again as she placed her hand on some of the more grievous wounds and channeled the Force. She would need a minute to recover from the nullification field, which had dulled her for a second. Still, right now she needed to maintain her focus.

"You can't die, you idiot — why did you do that??"