Writer: Rob
Characters: Eric, Paul
When: Day 3, Mid-Afternoon
Location: The Infirmary
The pleasant darkness was interrupted by a keening wail. The infernal noise
vibrated every sore, tired and aching bone in Eric’s body, causing brilliant
blue sparks of pain to dance across his vision.
With a groan, Eric opened his eyes. His body *was* vibrating – he could feel
the tickling sensation pushing his upwards. He struggled up onto his elbows,
and gasped at the sight in front of him
A number of chrome-plated arms, which had descended from the ceiling. They
were embedded in his knees. He could see flashes diving in and out of the
joints; feel them pushing him upwards ever so slightly.
But there was no pain.
“Hey!”
Eric turned to look towards the voice that called out. A figure,
indiscriminate in mint green surgical scrubs, complete with a hood that
covered everything but the eyes, approached him. With harried hand gestures,
the male voice insisted “You gotta lay down, pal! You shift the axis of
application, and I’ve got to regen the bone and start all over again!”
Disoriented, Eric obeyed, lying back on the table. The man appeared next to
him, sticking fingers and a metallic probe into his joints. “Whew!
Everything looks okay. You just relax.” He paused for a moment, reading
information from an instrument in his hand, before peering back at his
patient.
“Eric, right?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Then, “You’re a Hunter, aren’t you?”
A nod. “How’dja know?”
Eric could see the grin forming behind the man’s mask. “You folks *always*
come in with the most torn-up corp’s that we see.”
Eric nearly sat up, but for a restraining hand holding him back. “Whaddaya
mean, corpse?” he demanded.
The comment won a chuckle. “No, no. Not ‘corpse’, like dead bodies. ‘Corp’s’
is our lingo for corporeal bodies – what your soul wears when you’re here in
Purgatory. Sorry ‘bout that.” He ducked his vision again to the handheld
unit, then back to Eric. “Finished. Lie still, and let the synthetic skin
grow. You’re *awful* hard on your corp, Eric. You’ve got a lot of scars.
And,” the technician punched a couple of buttons on his unit “it says you
refuse to have them removed.”
Eric nodded again. “They’re all reminders of where I’ve been – and why I
went.”
The technician shook his head. “You Hunters... Well, you up for a visit from
one of your fellow psychotics?”
Eric chuckled. “Yeah. Send ‘em in.”
After a brief pause, Paul’s face appeared over Eric. “Hey, old man. How'ya
feelin'?”
Eric grinned. “Actually, pretty well, considering all the body work the
Infirmary’s had to do.”
Paul winked. “Well, I’m here to collect you and deposit you in your bed. You
live above Molly’s, right? With that Best Shot guy?”
“His name’s Dannon. And yes, he’s letting me stay there.”
“Riiiight. Dannon. Well, the Great Masked One has pronounced his blessing
over your battered ugliness. So, whenever you are ready, we can go.”
Eric sat up gingerly in the bed. He expected soreness and pain, but only
noticed a very mild stiffness in his joints. Happy with the results, he slid
off the table and grabbed the leather pea coat Paul held out to him. It was
the one Eric had been wearing when the hangover had started it's roller
coaster ride. The thick leather was scratched, and had enough blood on it to
make him look like he’d been slaughtering cattle in the coat. He nodded his
thanks to Paul, and shrugged into the coat. The two men exited the building,
and began to walkdown the street towards Molly McGuire's.
Following Eric in through the back entrance of the apartment Dannon and Eric
shared; Paul studied the small, neat home. It was totally unlike his; no
dishes piled in the sink, not an article of clothing strewn on any
furniture. Neat and clean. He nearly ran into his partner’s back, not paying
attention to his Eric’s stop.
Rubbing his shoulder where he'd clipped it into the wall, Paul grumbled
“Dude! What is it?”
Eric frowned. “That *bitch*!”
“Any bitch in particular? Or just *that* one?” Paul chuckled at his own
joke, but Eric merely narrowed his eyes at him. He reached out and snatched
a black-sheathed sword, and started back out the door.
“Whoa, whoa! Hey – what the Hell do you think you’re doin', Eric? You’re
*supposed* to be lying in bed!”
“I’m going to get what belongs to me!”
Paul stared at Eric’s back as the stairs jolted from staccato steps.
“What-*ever*...” he sighed, following after a minute. He trotted a few steps
to catch up with his partner, and shook his head.
~The man is becoming nuttier by the minute...~ Paul grumbled to himself.
Related Entries:Posted by Iki at December 31, 2002 08:37 AM (795 Words)