"Dammit, Euro!" Chance said aloud, though the Raptor was already gone. "I'm a chemist, not a brain surgeon! How the hell do you expect me to save her life when all I have is First Aid training?"
"Can you do it?" asked the fluffy white dragon as he stood guard.
"How the hell should I know?"
"Geez. Just asking, is all... get a grip," the dragon mumbled, his feelings hurt.
The strain was getting to Kristofer Schanz. Ever since he'd arrived in this world he'd been changing, growing more melancholy, more... gloomy. If this situation had happened on his world, he'd have stepped up to the task with determination and relied on his minimal army medic training and especially his tremendous luck to guide his hands. But things seemed so much simpler in his world -- so much more black and white, though also, paradoxically enough, so much more colourful. This world he found himself currently in was so much darker. So much dimmer. Most of the so-called "heroes" of this world were scarcely any different from the so-called "villains".
Chance had never been depressed in his life until he reached this world. And since then he'd found himself almost constantly worrying about his troubles with finding a way to restore Pete to life again, and his lost relationship with the Shirley Francis of his world. What was going on with him? This world was somehow remaking him in its image. No longer was he the shining example of a hero he had been on his world, the born leader of the MBL. No. There were too many shades of grey in this world for his liking. One couldn't tell the difference between good and evil much of the time. And it really threw Chance's best instincts off. Even his luck hadn't been working as well for him in this world, or he wouldn't have found himself in the position he was in just a short while ago.
And now, as he did his best to patch up Ameristar's headwound, he couldn't help but think how ironic it was that her life was completely in his hands. She who had believed him to be in league with the Hoods and thus a traitor to the entire human race just a few months ago! But he would be able to do nothing for her but patch up the wound and bandage her head. There was no bleeding any longer, and he hoped there would be no permanent brain damage.
"There," Chance said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'm done. As long as she doesn't start bleeding again, she should be fine until we can get her to a doctor."
"Good. Uh, so, I thought you were in charge of this mission, for some reason," Drax said.
"Yes, that's right."
"Well... then how come the Raptor is giving all the orders, here?"
"Good question," Chance said, a trace of anger in his voice. It was that damned sword! It was changing Euro somehow -- making him more like a Viking warrior of olde than the thoughtful Italian hero he knew him to be. Something had to be done about it... not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but soon. Very soon.
"Drax, I'm sorry about this, pal, but I'm going to have to ask you to keep watch over Ameristar by yourself. If we're ever going to find that map in this huge place, we're going to need more than a little bit of luck."
"Aw, man..."
"Cheer up, buddy. Things could be worse -- at least we haven't had to contend with any rival teams after the same thing we are," he said with a wink at the dragon just as he left.
Drax couldn't help but think of one of Murphy's Laws just then: "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong."
