Jett crouched over the crumpled body of a Troit soldier, his breaths coming in harsh pants. A few feet away, a second man sprawled on the floor by the wall. His fingers still curled loosely around a gun.

A shudder wracked Jett's small frame, nearly knocking him over. His heart tried its best to beat its way out of his chest; whether from adrenaline or sickness, he didn't know. Warily, he shifted his gaze to the far wall, then across the floor. Blackened little pocks had been scorched in a jagged line across both surfaces, evidence of the gunfire that had nearly cleaved him in two.

It had been a close one.

These guys were the second batch he'd run into since he'd first entered the building. It was a small miracle that he'd managed to take them down without collapsing himself. 

You can do this, Jett tried to encourage himself. But even his mental voice sounded as lively as a four-day old corpse. Instead of feeling encouraged, it only made him feel more depressed.

With a soft, weary exhale, he rose. Instantly, he saw stars and his vision seemed to warp a little. Crap, moved too fast. It took a moment for his head to clear, but even then, he was still plagued by a persistent lightheadedness.

He decided to ignore the fact that his extremities started to tremor on their own. A small facial muscle near his left eye suddenly ticked, before tagging the cheek muscle just below it. It gave a weak spasm, which felt kind of weird. Jett didn't pay it much mind.

Frankly, if he was his own body, he'd be freaking out too. This whole mission sucked.

Jett continued down the hall, his steps somewhat erratic and wobbly. It couldn't be that much further. It felt like he'd gone through a mile of hallways already, turning left twice when they branched. He'd passed several unmarked metal doors, too.

He stopped, a horrible thought occurring to him. What if he'd already passed the cell door? Moxie said to look for a metal door with a small window and weird lock. And there was a whole lot of metal doors...

He sucked in a shaky breath, then turned to look at the way he'd come. It was a really long way. Turning back, he rubbed his forehead with thumb and forefinger, absently trying to ease the throbbing ache.

I'm probably just being paranoid. I'll go a bit further, and if I have to, I can turn back later. With that thought, he moved on, continuing on deeper into the building.

Shortly after, he came to a huge open door. More than twice the size of other ones he'd seen, it easily took up almost the entire height of wall it was embedded into. A pair of buses could probably drive through side by side.

Curious as to what such a huge door was for, Jett made a beeline towards it, intending to walk right through.

"Again?" A young woman's voice stopped Jett dead in his tracks. "You sure you're not cheating?"

Male laughter drifted into the hallway. "Sweetheart, I wouldn't cheat you. Promise."

"You expect me to believe that after you've swindled me out of eighty bucks?"

The man chuckled. "Tell you what, then. One last round. If you win, I'll give you back your eighty."

"And if you win?" The woman sounded a little wary.

"Then you owe me a small favour," the man easily responded, his tone warm and friendly. Maybe a little too friendly, Jett thought. This guy was clearly up to no good, and that lady would be an idiot to go along with it.

"Okay. Fine. One last round."

Jett blinked. She actually agreed? Incredulously, he leaned against the frame and carefully poked his head out so he could see just what kind of crazy this lady was.

The room through the door had to be a giant storage room of sorts, because there were racks lining the walls and forming rows like bookshelves in a library. Supplies filled most of them; there were everything from spare ammo clips to cases of freeze-dried rations. The center of the room was left open, and it was across this space that Jett found himself looking.

Against the far wall, just beside a normal-sized metal door, sat a small table. Two people were seated at it playing cards. The man leant forward, resting a chin on the palm of his hand. He was outrageously handsome, to the extent that he'd probably have to wear a bag over his head to avoid drooling stares when he went out. Looking at him made Jett feel like a plain piece of cardboard.

The woman, on the other hand, was huge. Even sitting down, she still managed to tower over the man. Her uniform was a size too small, so it ended up hugging her large frame in some awkward places. Her jaw was square, and her brow thick, giving her a rather masculine look. In an odd contrast, her eyes were stunning ice-blue almonds. They stood out against her olive skin and ebony hair. In her own unique way, she was definitely a striking woman. No wonder the man openly stared at her with that smug little smile.

"Very good," the man drawled. He started shuffling the cards deftly, his gaze never leaving the woman. "I'm sure you won't regret it." His tone hinted otherwise.

"Tch. I'm watching you, Vyn. Try anything funny and I'll break your arms." The woman's dark brows drew together, her icy eyes narrowing. "All three of them."

Jett blinked. What did she mean by three? While Jett tried to figure that one out, the man shifted slightly, his smile morphing into a faint grimace. "Perhaps before we begin, we should check on the prisoner. Make sure -"

"Don't try and back out now," she reached over and snatched the cards from his hands. "I'll deal this time. You just get my eighty ready, you got it?"

Vyn sighed, yet there was a triumphant gleam to his expression. Jett could see it clear as day from where he hid. He knew very little when it came to card games, but he was pretty sure this lady was going to lose again.

Though he didn't much care about that.

What had caught his attention was what the man had mentioned. Prisoner. And then there was that metal door that was a few feet away from the two Troit soldiers. It looked a lot like the doors he'd seen before, except for the small box-like protrusion that sealed it shut on one side.

I'm guessing that's a lock, he thought to himself. This must be what he was looking for. The entry to the cells.

Now, all he had to do was deal with these two. Jett swallowed, feeling a little intimidated by them. The woman could probably take and give a good hit or two. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to take her down with his shaky strength. The man ... Jett didn't worry too much about him. He didn't seem to be anything more than a regular soldier.

He moved away from the doorway, taking a moment to steady himself. Each breath fluttered in his chest like a trapped bird before managing to escape in shaky exhales. For a precious few seconds, he focused on breathing, trying to calm his nerves. Despite it all, he couldn't stop trembling. Fingers twitched involuntarily, and his legs and feet felt oddly numb.

Forget it. Whatever was wrong with him wasn't getting better. Just get this done. You can die later.

"Heh." Jett found himself grinning somewhat sardonically as he remembered Gray telling him something similar when they'd first met. That flyer was the laziest person he'd ever met, and despite his absolutely horrible ideas on what constituted as training, Jett had grown somewhat fond of him.

The smile faded quickly, though. The next time he saw Gray, the man would probably try to kill him. Personally. Or at the very least, beat him to within an inch of his life. As lazy as Gray was, he clearly drew the line at betrayal.

Jett unconsciously clenched his hands. Let's not think about that. He took one last shaky breath. Then he charged through the doorway.

He went for the woman first.

Both soldiers noticed him the second he burst through, but by the time he crossed the floor, they had just started to react. The man shouted in alarm, while the woman reacted more aggressively. She surged to her feet, a snarl twisting her features into something terrifying.

Jett didn't try anything fancy. Tucking in his chin, he lowered a shoulder and tackled her right in the midsection.

"Geh~!" The impact forced the air from his lungs, while introducing him to a blinding flash of pain. The woman's body might as well have been made from brick, for rather than knocking her off her feet, Jett's tackle merely shoved her back against the wall. The chair clattered as it toppled over.

Even as she lost her balance, she reached down and grabbed at Jett's head. He felt her fingers touch one of his ears. A picture of her ripping off his head flashed through his mind, and he immediately dropped into a crouch. Fingertips ghosted across his cheek before she managed to snag the hat off his head.

Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap! If he didn't want to be flattened by this she-hemoth, he needed to take her out before she regained her footing. From where squatted, he shot a glance upwards. She towered over him, a terrifying giant.

Her cold glare turned towards him, catching him in her sights. The breath froze in his throat, and when he tried to move, he suddenly realized he couldn't. His legs gave way beneath him, and Jett sat on the floor like a kid staring up at a scary adult.

When he tried to move, his limbs refused to respond. Frightened, he tried harder. It only made the world spin around in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. He felt a thousand pounds heavy and as light as a feather at the same time. Panic screamed a wordless cry, and Jett's eyes grew wide with horror.

I ... I can't move? He struggled, yet the only result was a frightening numbness spreading across his body. His vision dimmed even as he shrieked internally. No! She's gonna kill me! I can't, I can't, I have to ~ !

Everything went blank.

He was suddenly squatting on packed dirt, staring up at black orb set in a giant mechanical monster. Metal legs thicker than his body flanked him, joints squealing as motors strained to move the massive weight above him.

I know this.

It was silent, this place. Even though he knew the war machine looming over him was currently spitting out death in all directions from its guns, there was not a sound. Men and women were undoubtedly falling every moment, dying to its deadly spray. Yet he heard nothing but the steady thub-thub of his own heart and the soft exhale of his own breath.

This place. This moment. I remember.

The machine wanted to kill him, too. It hovered above, whining and groaning like a dog straining at its leash.

Too bad for it, he was in the only safe place. It could see him; that black orb was like a giant eyeball, housing most of its sensory equipment. Still, it had no guns beneath its cold steel belly.

Its weakness was so glaring obvious, it was almost a pity. Almost... too easy. Jett laughed, and the cold, detached sound of it sounded foreign even to his own ears.

I've faced you before. I know you.

He lunged towards the nearest leg, feeling nothing but an icy calm. When he collided, it was the leg itself that gave way. Metal shrieked, an ear-piercing sound that almost sounded like it a being in pain. Jett smiled.

Sounds like victory. You fall.

I rise.

His surrounding grew darker as something fell from above. He cast a glance upwards, saw a giant mass of metal hurtling towards him. It would crush him.

He wasn't afraid. There was only calmness.

Then he was back in the warehouse with a huge woman toppling over him. His body moved on its own, diving away from her.

 Gone was the panic, the fear, the feeling of sickness,  leaving behind only an icy numbness. Nothing else mattered but the opponent before him.

Jett's cold gaze never left her. You're just a human. So fragile compared to those machines.

He leaped to his feet, charging in for another go. She rose to her knees, and managed to get one arm up to guard her face. Jett slammed into her, momentum and body weight knocking her flat once more.

This time, he stayed with her, brutally punching down at her fragile throat, her nose, her ears - anywhere he could reach. To her credit, the soldier was a tough one. She managed to block most of his punches, minimizing the damage he was dealing.

This isn't working. Fists alone wasn't going to take down this brute. He thought of the two blade hilts holstered against his hip, hidden within the coveralls he wore. Not something he could easily grab in the middle of a fight. Should have had them ready before charging in. Idiot.

Something within squirmed uneasily, but it was quickly smothered. There was only a focus on the task that lay before him. Anything else was not important.

She bucked beneath him, and the hand that was not guarding her face came around. It reached up, grabbing for him. Jett leaned backwards, watching her grasp nothing but air.

Just as he moved, he heard the high-pitched blast of a gunshot. Ice kissed the side of his temple, slicing free a few tufts of black hair. His world tilted, vision full of stars, yet he focused on those dark strands, watching as they floated above him like feathers amongst the stars.

His shoulders smacked into the floor, his head bouncing off it once in the process. It jarred him back to his senses, to the realization that he had just made a horrible mistake.

He'd forgotten about the man.

A shadow fell across him. Jett looked upwards, saw that the man pointed a gun straight at his face.

Don't think so. Jett rolled, got his hands and feet beneath himself, then lunged at the man. His movements were quick, but the man didn't falter. The gun's muzzle followed Jett, spitting out a series of rounds in a staccato burst. Little glowing bullets hit the ground, creating sizzling little pockmarks.

The clip went empty. The man cursed, backing up as he fished for a new one. Jett didn't give him a chance. He leapt, punching a knee right into the man's torso. The armor absorbed most of the blow, so the soldier merely staggered backwards. Jett spun and drove an elbow up towards the man's chin. His aim was off a little, so he ended up clipping the side of the solder's jaw.

As the soldier grunted, then swayed, Jett reached out and snatched the gun from the man's loose grip. He used it as a blunt object and smacked the man's face a couple of times. Something gave a faint crunch and the soldier dropped like a lead weight.

Air rushed at him from behind.

Jett twisted around. The giant woman came at him like an angry bear. Despite the raging beat of his heart, Jett still remained calm. Focused.

He knew what he had to do. What he'd been trained to do.

Scrambling over the man's motionless body, Jett grasped at the man's hip. He found the standard-issue belt, and pulled free one of the spare ammo clips. Then he rapidly moved back, trying to keep some distance between them while he reloaded the gun.

Guns were not his forte. He'd always favored the blade, finding them much more suited to his style than the awkward gun. Although, at the moment, he found himself appreciating the drills he'd gone through as a flyer trainee. As he kept his eyes on the growling brute of a woman, he finished reloading.

She was not happy. That much was clear. She roared like a beast and reached out with two big hands, fingers curled into claws. Jett watched her coldly. Then he raised the gun, and emptied the clip.

He wanted to aim at the center of mass, since that was the best place to shoot when one had to take down the enemy fast, but something within absolutely refused that idea. So he dropped his aim and shredded her legs.

The scream she gave was absolutely horrendous. She fell hard, wheezing and grunting and making pitiful little sounds. She curled, hands grabbing at her bloody legs.

Jett lowered his hand to his side. He did not let go of the gun.

He stared at the woman. She would probably never walk again. At least, not with her original limbs. The thought should have bothered him. Yet he only noted it in a distant, logical sort of way.

Looking at her, Jett frowned. There was a small tickle within, like an irritant that needed to be scratched. Then he leaned down, and dealt her a solid blow. She stilled instantly, her cries silenced. Her chest still heaved, showing she breathed. Though if she didn't get help soon, there was a chance she'd bleed out.

The itch was less now, at least.

He went to the metal door, ignoring the two fallen soldiers. Reaching up, he tapped the earpiece he'd been given.

"Moxie," he said. His voice didn't sound quite right, though he hardly cared at this point. "I'm here. What do I need to do?"

***********************

BONUS BLOOPER

(This is entirely the fault of  @ToriHope-  I take no responsibility for this. Yes Tori, I'm throwing you under the bus for this. xD)

Jett rolled away from her, staring at her. Then he was back on his feet, charging in for another go. She rose to her knees, and managed to get one arm up to guard her face. Jett slammed into her, momentum and body weight knocking her flat once more.

This time, he stayed with her, raining a series of blows down on her face and neck. To her credit, the soldier was a tough one. She managed to block most of his punches, minimizing the damage he was dealing.

This isn't working, he thought. Fists alone wasn't going to take down this brute. If he wanted to beat her, he had to do it. The attack. The one thing that guaranteed him a win, but at a horrific cost. Although, he wasn't sure if he was willing to pay it.

The soldier bucked beneath him, then rammed her knees up into his back. Gasping at the pain, Jett fell forward, closer to her face. This was it. He had to do it. Or she was going to turn him into a small puddle of meat paste.

Steeling his resolve, Jett lashed out towards her face with a 2-pronged finger attack. His hand slipped past her guarding arm, then plunged deep into the caverns of her nostrils. He felt the warm squelch as much as he heard it, and cringed with every fiber of his being.

It was awful. The feeling, the sound - he wanted to curl into a hole and die. Yet, he had to finish it what he started.

The woman grunted, twisting her head from side to side. It was enough to dislodge his fingers, but by then, it was far too late. Grimacing, Jett leaned forward, and smeared his coated fingers down her face, from eyebrows to chin. A huge, globby coating of snot was left behind, creating a most gruesome sight.

The woman froze for a second, probably in complete shock and horror. Then she started to wail, curling into the fetal position as she did so.

Jett just sadly stared down at her, feeling the deepest loss of his pride and dignity as a man. The Snot Attack™ took its toll, from both the victim and the user. Like the poor woman, he would never ever be the same.