“Did ya get ‘em?”
With his thick accent, my goblin partner, Trouble, could be difficult to understand. I usually understood him, after knowing him for so long, but this time I needed a moment to decipher the short phrase in my head. I watched the tarmac below us. There was no sign of movement from our target, but we would need to go down there to verify his vitals.
I looked back at Trouble. His green screen looked paler than it had when we had fought with a few guards to get to the top of the highrise building.
“I got him,” I said.
The goblin nodded. Then, he collapsed, his hand falling from his blood-soaked jacket.
I pressed two fingers to his little throat. He had a weak pulse. My heart picked up speed as I peeled back his clothes to find a deep knife wound in his ribs. They had fought just over fifteen minutes ago, and the injury would be at least that old.
“You idiot,” I muttered under my breath as I searched his pockets for his first aid kit. Between the two of us, he had the most medical training, but none of that mattered while he was unconscious.
I pressed a bandage to the wound and taped it to his graying green skin, leaving one corner open for air flow.
Satisfied there was nothing more I could do, I pulled out my disposable phone, and my hands shook as I typed in the right number.
“Man down,” I said when I heard a click on the other end. “Requesting help.”
“Roger,” a modulated voice said before hanging up.
With a sigh, I tossed the phone over the side of the building. I sat back and waited for someone to arrive.
Stephanie Rita Clark is an aspiring author from a small town in the Midwest of the U.S.A. She loves anime and video games, and she spends a little too much time on YouTube. Receive a free dark fantasy short story by signing up to her newsletter (here), and you can also stay up to date on all of her works (including upcoming urban fantasy, dark fantasy, and the occasional horror).
This post was simultaneously posted on my Medium blog.