The last invader fell over, and everyone stared in silence. Angela dropped the gun and made a heavy gasp for air. She had not realized, but she had held her breath since beginning to line up the shot.
Helmet slowly crossed the ground on shaky legs and held a hand to Glasses. He let the young boy lean on his side, and they checked Slacks and Bandana.
“Let them sleep for now,” the older man said after seeing each weakened man. He cleared his throat as if he noticed his shaky voice. While Helmet held his single hand over his torso, the duo made their way to Angela as she tried in vain to push herself up.
Glasses grabbed her by her shoulders as carefully as he clearly could and pushed her to a seated position.
“Wow, you’re heavy,” he muttered. She frowned and pushed his hands away before her arms fell low and hung under the weight of the cords beneath her skin.
In the distance, Bandana coughed, and Slacks stirred. Both, likely believing they still might be in combat, jumped up as fast as they could, which for both was slowly and shakily rising from the ground like they were in a zombie film. When they deduced the enemy was defeated, looking back and forth several times for new foes, they hobbled over to the others and collapsed.
“So, now what?” Angela muttered after the group sat in silence for several minutes. She looked at her hands as the wind gently tickled them.
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Bandana covered a bloody cough and waved his hand like it was nothing. Slacks rolled his eyes and wiped some blood from his lip. They nodded to Helmet, who closed his eyes and took a deep but strained breath. He sat his hand on Angela’s head and looked at the section of cord still sticking from her back.
“Slacks, are you able to set our boy's leg?” The bald man got to work without a reply, and Helmet continued. “Bandana, I have an idea. Can you hold Angela in place for a minute?” Before the girl could protest, Bandana weakly held her shoulders, and Helmet grabbed the protruding cable in her back. “This will probably hurt, even if it works, but I think it will; our opponents aren’t nearly so graceful to design otherwise.” He said before pulling with all his might. Angela clenched her teeth tightly, but the cord slowly pulled out.
To the girl, it was the most disgusting feeling she had ever experienced. The wires that had always squirmed inside her were slowly receding; a slimy whine or gurgle reverberated up her body to her head as cable covered in blood and goo emerged from her back—she could feel it run down her skin. Helmet pulled it out a significant amount, as far as she could tell, before he had to take a breather. Slacks and Glasses joined him after a rough cast had been set on the younger boy’s leg.
Glasses assisted Bandana in holding her in place, and Slacks lent his hands to pull the cord out. Angela wanted to scream as the discomfort grew with every tug, and her eyes rained like it might flood. After far too much effort, the ends of the tendril cord—resembling branches of a horrid tree—emerged and fell to the ground with a heavy clunk.
Angela lifted her arms with ease, her face blank with shock as she freely wiped the tears away. Slacks quickly stitched the hole closed and zipped her coat close.
“Now,” Helmet said before anyone else could speak, “Let’s see if that bottle of wine survived.