"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
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((Peter Siu continued from May the Lord Accept This Sacrifice at Our Hands))

Peter might've gotten his hands bloodied a few times in the past week, but he was still a sucker for people calling for help.
Definitely a sucker.
Well, it probably also mattered that there was something that had sounded distinctly like a gunshot a few moments before he heard the yelling. That had very neatly woken Peter up from whatever stupor he had been in. Peter couldn't remember what he had been doing in the tunnels, but his best guess was that he'd needed some daytime rest and time to think over the announcements.

While Peter had been on edge when he heard the gunshot, the voice that followed put all those fears aside. He didn't know what it was he heard in it that made his blood freeze. Desperation. Fear. Need. How could he not respond to that?
It's the right thing to do.
His legs pumped as he ran in the direction of the voice. He was lucky there were no forks to decide between; the layout of the tunnels would've made it hard to pick out which way to go. Peter aimed his flashlight low, making sure to keep his step lit; falling down while running at breakneck speed was probably one of the more silly ways to end up badly injured or killed.

Another light up ahead diffused dimly through the dark cavern. He'd found them. Peter didn't know how long he'd run for. He still had his breath, so it must not have been that far. His footfalls slowed, although he still pushed on at a brisk pace. If whoever was yelling for help really needed it, then there would be time later for wariness. First things first, somebody needed help.

Peter froze midstep when he saw what he signed up for. Brendan and Steven looked a lot worse for wear since the last time Peter'd seen them over a week ago. Well, to say that Steven looked worse for wear was probably a massive understatement. There was blood pooling on the floor. So much blood. Tiffany hadn't bled that much. Neither did Lucas, and Peter hadn't stuck around long enough to measure how much blood Jessie had left on the floor of the church. Judging by the mess of crimson on Steven's leg, it didn't take much power of deduction to put it together.
Might also want to use those deductive powers on what caused this whole debacle.
What could he even do? With a wound in the femoral artery, there was only so much time until Steven bled out. At best, Peter could slow the bleeding and give Steven a few more minutes. Or he could just save them all the pain and finish it quickly. "What do you want-" Peter stopped his query when he looked at Brendan. So much fear. So lost. The poor kid probably didn't have the first clue about proper first aid, or even handling anything more than a papercut.

He didn't need to do this. There were no lives to be saved here.
There are no lives on this island to be saved.
But he had to try, didn't he?

"Okay. Everyone needs to stay calm here." Not that Peter could keep himself calm, but that was all in his head. He could at least act the part. "Steven, I need you to talk to me. Tell me some stories about the island, or about back home." Peter closed the distance as he gave his instructions, shrugging his backpack from his shoulders and leaning it against the tunnel's wall. He knelt down at Steven's feet to get a closer look at the wound.
I can save him.
A cursory glance told him everything he needed to know. Just a small hole in Steven's jeans, gushing out blood at a steady rhythm. Peter would need to do something, and do it fast, if he was going to make any progress. Brendan had left the contents of his first aid kit in easy reach. Peter ran a beam of light over the assorted life saving tools. Mixed among them was one decidedly non-life-saving tool. Peter knew it was what had caused this whole mess. He'd worry about it later.
I don't think Brendan meant for it to happen.
Triangular bandage and scissors were what he needed, and in a few seconds, he had both in his hands. The scissors were tiny, and denim was tough to cut, but there was nothing else he could use. As he cut away the pant leg, Peter listened to Steven talk, nodding and making non-committal grunts when appropriate. Focus on the first aid first, and he could talk later.
I remember every word, every nuance.
The seconds ticked past as he worked. Crucial seconds that meant the difference between life and death. Maybe he should've kept track of how long he took before he pulled back the bloodsoaked denim to reveal pale skin splashed with blood. The blood was still pumping out, still that steady rhythm. But each beat didn't seem to be oozing as much blood as it had not even a minute ago.

Time was not on anybody's side.

"This might hurt just a little," Peter murmured as he looped the bandage around the leg, a ways above the gunshot wound, and tied a quick half-knot. One deep breath to collect himself, and then Peter tugged at the loose ends of the bandage, crushing together as much fat and muscle together in the hopes of closing off the source of the blood. Peter prayed that it would be enough to save a life.
I want to, need to, make a difference.
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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Peripeteia · The Tunnels