Poison Ivy Ch. 01

Her knees almost buckled. Sensing her unsteadiness, Officer Muscles released her chin and gently gripped her shoulders. Well, as gently as a man his size could, she supposed. Is that what he had been doing, when he had come right at her like a lightning strike? Had he scented her from across the tent?

Gross.

She stared straight ahead as he continued to rake her with those awful stormy eyes. After a moment, he straightened and released her shoulders. "Choose a replacement," he said again to Prescott. "Send her to me after formation with all her gear. I'll expect your decision within the hour."

Traitorous, burning tears threatened to spill over as she watched him spin around and walk out, Prescott following close behind, like a chastised dog with his tail between his legs. When they were gone and the flimsy screen door had slammed shut, her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the ground. She felt a hand gently land on her shoulder and looked up to find four pairs of sad eyes watching her.

"That's fucking bull shit, Poison," Toad said, pushing his thick rimmed glasses up his nose for the thousandth time that day.

"Yeah," Q agreed, his kind baby blues starting to glisten. "He can't just do that." His voice shook.

"Shit, don't fucking cry on me, Q," she said, rolling her eyes and ruffling his fluffy auburn hair. Completely out of regs. He needed a haircut, like, yesterday.

Bear just gave a gruff grunt of agreement, a bulky man of few words and the oldest medic among them. Kentucky squeezed her shoulder. She couldn't stand look at him. "That Alpha bully wouldn't know his mouth from his asshole, Poison. Figure out what his fucking problem is, and then fix it. You'll be back in no time."

"Thanks guys. Really. But I think we all know it's over for me. He's a goddamn Lieutenant General. I might be the first person to have talked back to him in, like... well, forever, I guess. I'm fucked." Ivy sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "That doesn't give any of you fuckers an excuse to slack off," she continued, her eyes narrowing at she looked at them all in turn. "And I'm still your boss until after formation. So quit blubbering about it and get back to stocking the packs."

Action was always better than inaction. She just had to keep busy, and she could bite back the storm of emotions threatening to bust out of her like a can of biscuits until she was alone.

Growing up with a high-ranking Beta for a father meant they were constantly on the move. She'd have just learned where everything was supposed to go in a new house or apartment when it was time to move on again. She used to comfort herself with the thought that no matter what, she'd have a bed to sleep on. Beds were universal. The setting might change, the type of mattress might vary, but there was always a place where she could lay down at the end of the day.

The Army was a little different. There wasn't always that comforting constant presence of a familiar piece of furniture. During long convoys, she might have to sleep on a cot or even on the ground. She might not be able to sleep at all, depending on the mission. It always left her a little uneasy when she didn't know where the day was going to end.

That same unease had started to claw a hole in her stomach. What was the big bully going to do with her? Would she be able to work in the main base's medical tent? Would she be pulled for temp duty? Would she be scrubbing toilets in the barracks or washing dishes in the mess halls? Or, even worse, would he send her home, reassign her to a non-deployable command?

And really, what the fuck was his problem? She hadn't done anything that had warranted her being pulled from this post. Sure, she might bend the rules a little when it came to procuring medical supplies. What other people might call "stealing", she just called creative acquisition.

Abandoning the pile of folders she no longer had any reason to work on, Ivy sat on the floor with her boys and helped with the packs. She was grateful for the work. With how often she was in them, picking out what was missing and replacing low items was a mindless task. They were just finishing, zipping them up and refilling their canteens, when the high-pitched whine of the raid alarm went off.

Two disasters in one day? Fucking perfect.

"Torrins," Toad breathed. She almost felt sorry for him. The runt of the litter, Toad was always skittish and scared to go beyond the gates.

Less than a minute later, four boxer-clad Betas charged into the tent, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and scooping up gear from out of their lockers.

Four medics always stayed behind to man the tents for when the injured started pouring in. The other five would put full gear on and head out of the gates, ready to triage and tend to any injuries that happened in the field and needed immediate treatment. Team Leaders always went to the field.

As medics, they were always somewhat protected by the rest of the grunts, but there was also always a risk, and over the years they had lost more than one of their own. If she wasn't already required to move out with the combat unit, if she could have taken Toad's place, she would have.

Her night shift boys, Brody, Lucy, Turbo and Icepick, pulled on partial gear and started preparing the tent for an influx of soldiers, retrieving the extra cots and setting out medical supplies. Ivy and the day crew pulled out their own heavy gear and began grabbing med packs. Ivy was reaching for one when Kentucky grabbed her wrist.

Her eyes flicked up to him, narrowed with irritation. "You shouldn't go, Poison," he said softy, looking at her sympathetically. "You heard the Alpha."

Brody's giant ears pricked up like a German Shephard. "Alpha?" he asked nervously. The three other night crew boys turned their heads toward where she and Kentucky stood over the packs. Ivy roughly tugged her wrist from his grip. "Yes, Alpha," she growled, glaring at Brody. She turned back to Kentucky. "I heard him just fine, jackass. He said I was being replaced after formation." She poked a finger at his toned chest. "Until then, I'm still your Team Leader, so gear up, move out, and mind your own fucking business."

Kentucky looked stricken and backed up. "Roger that, Corporal," he mumbled. He grabbed a pack and rushed out of the tent. She turned around to the wide eyes and shocked expressions of her night crew.

"Replaced, Poison?" Turbo asked, his voice squeaking when he got to the end of her name. Her heart broke a little. Turbo towered over the rest of them by a good 5 or 6 inches, and long hours spent at the gym had him beefed him up and filled out a little since he'd shown up to Rico battalion skinny as a fucking string bean. But he was also the youngest of the medics, and it came out in small ways that he tried to cover up. Fuck, she was gonna miss these guys.

She nodded, strapping her holster and checking the locks on her rifle. "An Alpha officer barged in here and apparently doesn't want a female any further than five yards from a kitchen," she muttered darkly. "So, I'm being taken back to main base for reassignment." She kept her eyes on her gear, checking and double-checking straps and locks and buckles.

"Shit, dude," Lucy, a beach bum if she'd ever seen one, blew out a long breath. With his naturally curly blonde hair and tan complexion, coupled with his blasé attitude about... well... everything, he looked like he could have been coming back from a long day of sun and surfing. "What the hell."

"Yeah, well, one thing at a time," she said, finally looking up at the gloomy faces of the soldiers she had grown to love. "Finish prepping the tent, then run over to the mess hall and grab some clean towels and steak knives." She paused. "Just don't let anyone see you."

A corner of Lucy's mouth turned up as he snapped to attention. "Roger, Corporal!" he shouted. Ivy grinned and rolled her eyes. "All right, suckers. See ya soon," she called back, already jogging out of the tent to catch up with the rest of her combat unit.

............................................................

The butt of her rifle tucked into the crook of her arm, Ivy stalked through the shadows of the towering pines with deliberate, measured steps as she scanned the woods around them. It was beautiful, really, the Chid forest. A bed of pine needles hushed their careful footsteps, afternoon light filtering in from between thick limbs. If she hadn't been so on edge, scanning the area around them for enemy fighters, she might have enjoyed the tranquil landscape.

From what she had gathered, Torrin guerrilla fighters had set fire to a pile of dried pine needles just outside the base perimeter. When the soldier on watch noticed it, he sent two men out to investigate. Shots were fired, and Torrins had crept out of the woods, advancing on the perimeter. One of the soldiers on watch had been shot and killed, and the rest had retreated. The perpetual enemy had claimed another victory. The base's perimeter had tightened by over 20 yards.

Which had landed Ivy, her medics, and her unit back into the middle of Chid forest, slowly moving forward and attempting to take back lost ground.

They moved out in four strategic teams, each manned with at least one medic. Ivy had ordered Toad and Kentucky to pair up, knowing Kentucky would watch out for the runt should the shit hit the fan. Ivy stayed in the middle of the men in her unit, her shoulders and lower back aching from the med pack she carried on top of her regular gear.

The long-forgotten events that had raised tensions between their two countries had settled into the obscurity that was the distant past. There was talk about political representation, and control of a strategic trading port, but for the most part, the sentiment seemed to be that it was above her paygrade. Which really wasn't fair. After all of the soldiers she'd put back together over her years with Rico Battalion, not to mention all the soldiers she'd had to watch die, she thought she deserved to know why they were expected to kill Torrins in their own country, even as her own men were dying at alarming rates.

A shadow darted past the corner of her eye, snapping her out of her thoughts, and she swung around, her rifle aimed at where she thought she had seen movement.

"You all right, doc?" someone asked behind her, a gunner whose name she couldn't quite remember. She peered through her scope at the area around her sights, but saw nothing out of the ordinary and slowly turned back, nodding her head. "Fine, just thought I saw something."

The soldier grunted behind her as they resumed walking. "These woods will fuck with your head," he said. "Just keep a sharp eye out and try not to get spooked."

Ivy grumbled under her breath. Did he think this was her first fucking time outside the gates? She knew what she was doing. He was greener than she was, for fuck's sake.

Another quick movement caught her eye, and she spun to the other side, watching as she stepped forward carefully. Something was wrong. Why hadn't they heard any gunfire? Come to think of it, why hadn't they heard anything? The forest was chillingly silent except for the sounds of their own muted footsteps and heavy breathing.

Clunk.

Something pinged off her helmet and onto the ground in front of her. Something shiny and metal. Wait, metal?

Ivy looked up into the thick branches and froze.

"TRAP! IT'S A TRAP! EVERYBODY GET BACK!" She screamed, motioning to the men behind her to fall back. Gunfire rained down from above as Torrins rappelled from the branches in a synchrony that was almost elegant. She grunted as something hit her shoulder and grabbed the kid in front of her, shoving him back. He couldn't have been older than 19. She turned and ran back to the last place they had established cover, a giant felled tree providing temporary, if insufficient, protection. Jumping the massive log, she took inventory of the Betas already behind her. Three had bullet wounds, one to the stomach and two to the legs. One idiot had fractured an ankle falling over himself in his rush to get back. All four were stable and could wait.

She turned her attention back to the men still in the fray. A Beta she recognized was on the ground, clutching his side and moaning in pain. Four more were staggered across from each other, returning gunfire and covering for those who were falling back. She groaned as she spotted the 19-year-old sprawled over a flat rock, his eyes wild with fear, his helmet cracked and thrown three feet away from him. A wound to his head was gushing blood, obscuring his eyesight. Ivy chewed her bottom lip and tried to think. She could probably reach the kid in time to drag him back before the men returning fire reached him. The soldier clutching his side was closer, but looked heavier and more difficult to move.

She had no time. She dropped her med pack and rifle. Rushing forward, past the safety of the impromptu barricade, she ran to the kid first. She reached under his arms and locked her hands together, gripping the opposite wrist across his chest. "Grab my hands for me, kiddo, and just don't fucking die," she hissed into the ear that wasn't covered in blood. His hands flew to tightly grasp hers, and she struggled to her feet, dragging him back with her. Sweat poured down her face in rivulets as she walked backwards with her heavy load. She reached cover just as a bullet tore up ground behind them, and two sets of hands took the kid from her arms and heaved him over their makeshift barrier and into relative safety.

She turned back and spotted the Beta clutching his side. Recognition pulled his name from her busy mind. Ruckus, an infantryman. Rushing back out without giving herself time to recover, she threw herself to the ground as soon as she reached him and began bundling him up to move. The bullet had torn through his flank and it was bleeding steadily. Another explosion of artillery fire lit up the ground around them and she ducked, throwing her upper body over Ruckus. She cursed loudly. They had to move.

"Ruckus, right?" she breathed, looping her arms underneath his. "Can you do something for me? Grab my hands and tell me the names of the guys in your barracks." If she could keep him talking, keep him conscious, she could focus on stabilizing him after they were out of the direct line of fire. Ruckus grabbed her hands, moaning as he did so.

"That's it, now tell me their names," she whispered, dragging him backwards as she watched the men returning fire shoot blindly into the thick line of trees ahead. The Torrins knew this forest far better than they did. They could melt into the shadows effortlessly. They had to get back to the gate. How far was that?

One step at a time. Get this dying asshole behind the barricade, worry about the rest later. Ruckus started talking, his voice shaky and weak. "Blake. Pinky. Markus. Boris."

"Good," she breathed, her legs shaking and burning with strain. "Keep going."

The soldier directly in front of them caught a bullet to his chest and collapsed.

"Fuck," she hissed, just as she reached the log and practically threw Ruckus into the waiting hands behind her. She turned, about to run back to get the last injured soldier, when steel arms closed around her waist. Her world spun for a hot second, a solid brick wall slammed against her back and her feet lifted half a foot off the ground. And then she was being carried in the exact wrong direction, back to the safety of the main gate, without her unit.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" she screamed, clawing at the massive arm banded around her waist. "Let me go!"

A low warning growled against her ear made her skin prickle and burn. A distant part of her brain acknowledged that it might be smart to stop thrashing and fighting against whoever had made that sound, but there was too much adrenaline pumping through her veins and too many bloody, injured soldiers they were leaving behind.

Her hands found the knife in her breast pocket, and clicking the blade into place, she slashed down at the arm holding her. A barked sound of surprise sounded from above, and she was dropped to the ground. She scrambled up and sprinted back to her unit. The cute kid who had caught a bullet to his chest, Markus, another infantryman and Ruckus' bunkmate, still lay sprawled out several yards from the log. Not glancing back, she ran straight toward him, falling to her knees as needles were kicked up around her. Gunfire rang out and she ducked just as a bullet pinged into the ground beside her leg. A quick glance at the gory wound in his chest made her stomach clench in sympathy. No time to think. Just act.

Just when she had looped her arms under Markus' and stood, ready to drag him back to cover, a steely arm scooped her up by her waist and pulled her back into that fucking rock wall, hard. If she hadn't been so pumped up, it would have fucking hurt! The Alpha's other arm came down and fired off a few quick rounds with the 9mm he had in his hand. He'd positioned her on the side of his body and then rotated, shielding her from the incoming bullets. She heard bodies falling from where the Torrins had been launching their attack. Distracted, she looked down frantically at Markus, blood gurgling in his mouth.

She thrashed and bit at the arm that held her as he continued to fire off shots. Somehow, every one of his bullets were hitting their targets. Torrin men fell to the ground as others scrambled from the shadows. "Markus!" She screamed up at the giant immobilizing her. "I have to get Markus! Get the fuck off me!"

Another low growl stilled her for a moment. She stood pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around her chest, and felt spiders crawling across her skin. With sharp, precise movements, he holstered his gun and grabbed the fallen grunt by the scruff of his uniform, pulling him along as he walked them both backwards. Once behind the log he released her and pulled two more guns from a holster around his waist, firing rapidly into the woods around them.

Ivy crawled over to Markus, her wide, glistening eyes scanning his body to assess the extent of his injuries. Fuck. Dark red blood seeped from the wound like a faucet, and his lips and fingers were turning blue. He was losing so much blood, too much blood. They'd never get him back to base in time. Death looked out from behind his eyes, and he nodded to her, reaching out with ice cold hands to grasp her fingers. He knew. They always knew.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping his hand in return as he struggled to breathe with wet, gurgling gasps. "I'm so sorry. I'm here. I'm with you. I won't leave you."

It didn't take long. She watched his eyes fade and dull. He jerked once and shook, then finally stilled.

She swiped renegade tears from her cheeks, smearing Markus's blood across her face like war paint as she crawled over to the next injured Beta, the kid. A bullet had just grazed his skull. It seeped blood, but it wasn't going to kill him. She pressed a sterile dressing into his hand. "Hold this tight against your head, kiddo," she instructed, and moved on.

The sound of gunfire echoed through the air around her as she made her way over to Ruckus. He was groaning and clutching a hand to a bloody, messy wound in his side. She rifled through the contents of her med pack, cursing under her breath at the mess it was in after the other injured soldiers had ransacked it for dressings and splints. Her fingers closed over a distinct grey and red packet and she yanked it out and tore it open with her teeth. The dude was shaking uncontrollably. He was going into shock.