Welcome to the Misfits

Rescue Mission

Chapter 17: Rescue Mission

Persica was sitting in her office chair, legs tucked under her, scrolling through the files the AR team had sent her, cup of coffee in hand. Her ear twitched as an alert dinged from somewhere beneath a pile of discarded papers.

She ignored it and kept reading, taking a sip of her coffee as she continued to scroll. Her other ear twitched as the alert dinged again. Another sip of coffee, another flick of the finger as she continued to scroll.

The alert dinged a third time.

Persica huffed as she sat her tablet and cup down. She knocked stacks of papers and empty coffee cups to the floor until she found the offending tablet. She held it up to her face to allow the facial scan to do its job.

Once the tablet unlocked she could finally see what the alert was.

*Project Phoenix Alert*

*Priority: DELTA*

*Subject Beta Vitals Critical*

*Recommended action to follow.*

Persica tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the old tablet to update.

Recommended Action: Activate onboard emergency medical program

Persica let out another irritated huff, "Can you stop trying to get yourself killed for five minutes?" She muttered as she scrolled through the options.

Activate onboard medical program?

YES / NO

She tapped Yes.

Verify Activation

YES / NO

She rolled her eyes and tapped Yes.

*WARNING! MEDICAL PROGRAM WILL RELEASE UNTESTED TECHNOLOGY!*

Possible chance of catastrophic failure, do you wish to proceed?

YES / NO

Persica let out a frustrated growl, "Outdated government funded garbage!"

She mashed Yes repeatedly.

Onboard medical program will begin to administer treatment.

Nanites released.

Subject stabilizing.

Note: This is not a replacement for proper medical treatment. Send Subject to nearest Medical Battalion at earliest convenience.

Persica waited for the activation code to flash before she tossed the old tablet on a desk behind her, picked up her coffee, and resumed going through the files.

"Can't go more than a day without getting shot," she murmured, "typical Americans."

- Sector 12 -

- Owen's Location -

Owen drifted in and out of consciousness. He felt woozy. He could hear gunfire, dolls shouting, and someone whispering to him. He strained to hear what the voice was saying but couldn't make it out. The voice sounded familiar. Maddeningly so.

Then another voice, a deep one. "What the hell?"

Another one, female, heavy accent, "His arm is… repairing itself?"

"Bones not the right direction for that." The male voice said.

"You're right, we'll have to rebreak it." Female voice.