Chapter 3 - "The Body in Motion"

Natasha didn't care about much in life. Most of life's little pleasures weren't that pleasurable, and the hard times were just times when weak people couldn't cope. To her, life's ups and downs were merely dips in the road she ran on, too small to even notice, let alone take away her momentum. If you ignored them for long enough, you'd forget they were even there, leaving you with a clear and unaltered path to walk. She liked it that way, seeing where she was going, and knowing whatever challenge that came accross. Life was a cakewalk when you didn't care about much. Look after yourself, a few close friends, and let the rest look after themselves. Sure, it was selfish, but what good is taking care of everyone around you and letting yourself slide? Pretty soon you'd realise that you too had troubles, and you'd be too busy to tend to them. You'd slip further and further until you finally found yourself in a emotional pit that you couldn't climb out of. Then where would you be? Stuck in a hole surrounded by weak people who didn't know how pull you out. Screw that, better to leave them fend for themselves. They'd thank you in they only knew how much you'd helped them.

So all in all, life was pretty good for Natasha. She'd found her little secret trick to it. Try not to care about too much. So she didn't.

However, the latest events were cause to carefully reconsider that little trick. When the majority of your friends are slaughtered in cold blood, you tend to care. When the enemy shows itself to be a much more competent and powerful force than you ever imagined, you tend to care. Most of all, when the enemy completely annihilates you, sapping every ounch of your strength, having beaten you savagely and mercilessly, leaving you a worthless pile of flesh, no more a hero than the wall you just crashed through... Natasha cared. She cared a hell of a lot. Losses like this were rare, such a one-sided battle. Natasha had the weapon, Natasha had the power, the hero's pride and experience in battle. But she'd been tossed around and beaten like a rottweiler's chew-toy. A pathetic fight on her part, indeed. And she, a hero to these people, whose bodies now lay motionless in the streets of Rockford. What a pride-diminishing thought.

"Hero."

It was the only thing that stuck in her mind. Everything else in life she could count on. That little 'not-caring' trick had worked all these years, from her bullied childhood days, to the battle-ridden life she now led. Her belief that letting people fight their own emotional battles was the only successful way of helping them. Everything, she knew she'd got right. But now, the word 'Hero' had reared it's head again. And she knew why. She was supposed to be these peoples' Hero, the one who protects them from danger, the one who vanquishes the evil foe and comes home more victorious than ever, the blood of her enemies smeared across her hands, a powerful grin and a equally powerful stride. A Hero. She had failed these people. They had all been killed because she wasn't enough. Their "Hero", their inhuman, powerful protector was thrashed and beaten as though she were no more powerful than them. beaten like a carpet, then left on her back on the stone cold floor of someone she couldn't save. She had been useless.

"Jay, open your eyes, buddy!"

That was Sam. Sam was here, thank God! He was the only doctor in town, and as such, the only person who could help these people now. She had to get to him and help.

"C'mon, Jay, wakey-wakey!"

So Jay was still alive? She'd never have guessed it. The way she'd seen those two cut through people she'd have expected no life from even Jay, who'd proved himself a worthy warrior on more than one occasion. But apparently he'd survived, that she was glad of. But it sounded as though he didn't have a lot of time left. Poor Jay. Tasha hadn't managed to see how he'd been injured, she'd been too busy fighting off the Silver-haired girl, but she could only imagine he'd be in great pain. her mind flicked for a moment to dwell on Jay's family. Though he wasn't much older than her, Jay was already married, and had a son named Joseph... That's if they were still alive. The pain he must be going through right now. All Tasha could do was hope that the rest of his family were okay.

"Keep your eyes open, Jay! C'mon, open up... Hey! open your eyes, Jay!"

She remembered how Jay was a cautious man. His Mother and Father had been victims of a town razing, just like this one, and as a result, he'd always been careful to have some sort of hiding place or escape route for his family, just in case it ever happened again. People used to laugh at his over-protective manner and jested at his jumpiness... She guessed now they'd be wishing they'd done the same.

"Dammit, Jay! Breathe!"

Sounded serious. It was torture to her ears. Everything was silent, the opposition seemingly long gone. The only sounds were the scuffing of Sam's knees on the dirt road, and his panicked voice, trying to coax Jay back to reality. It was horrible. She couldn't move a muscle, decked out uncomfortably on the stone floor, bits of broken log surrounding her, blood seeping from various wounds, listening to one of best friends slip away into the darkness not thirty feet from her. She heard Sam start pushing down on his chest, trying to restart Jay's heart. This was crunch time for Jay.

"Come on, Jay" Tasha mouthed.

"Breathe, Jay! Come on!" Sam was becoming more and more desperate as Jay refused to respond to anything. "Dammit, breathe, you stupid fucker! Breathe! Aron, quick!"

Aron? He was alive, too? Wait, of course he was. Aron went hunting today, he'd have been out searching game when they attacked. Aron wasn't cautious at all, choosing to be everywhere at once with no plan whatsoever. Though it usually got him into trouble, his quick thinking usually got him out of it again. It also meant he was good in battle, resourceful and cunning. It wasn't much use in this case.

"Yes! He's breathing! Aron, apply some pressure here." Sam was relieved, Jay wasn't quite giving up yet.

"Is he going to make it?"

"I don't know, he's in pretty bad shape. Where the hell is Tasha?!"

She tried to move her arm to get up, but it refused to move, opting instead to lay limply on the ground, another five minutes of sleep. She urged it again, straining excessively to get some feeling into it. It got some feeling into it alright. As soon as it moved she screamed in pain.

"What the hell?" Sam exclaimed. He was shocked. "Aron, stay here, I'm going to check that out."

Natasha didn't hear them. It was overwhelming, clouding her brain with continues pangs of sharp, burning pain, like someone had ripped it clean off and spat alcohol on the wound. Tears came ot her eyes and she couldn't help but whimper a little. It hurt so badly she thought she'd pass out at any moment.

True to her thoughts, things started getting blurry, that familiar black fog clouding her periferal vision. Her head reeled, the pain from her arm making itself known in bolts of electricity into her frame. She kept her head up just in time to see Sam enter through the hole in the wall, a wide-eyed look on his face. He was all blurry and wobbly, and darkening quickly as her head fell backwards. She heard him speak, but it sounded like he was trapped in jello and distant. She never heard the end of it, anyway, as she slipped peacefully into a silent blackness.