Thread: Lost Kitten (SexyXWolf)

Hiko held her eye open. The pupil got smaller as he shined the flashlight into it. She was so far along, he wondered if she was a lost cause. His expertise was in the lab, not the clinic. He knew she might not be able to make it, and it was probably better to find a different subject for his test, but he had the compassion in him that had long since been weathered out of his colleagues in the clinical branch of the sciences. He decided that her weak, tangential responses would have to suffice as consent. He huffed darkly to himself, wondering if that same mentality went through the minds of soon-to-be rapists. But no, this was different. He was trying to save her life, not hurt her. He looked around, but there was nobody around to help him. He slid his arm under her legs and then slung her arm around his neck. He hoisted her into his arms, surprised by how light she was. The illness had ravaged her body and left her slight and wasted away, a shade of what she must have formerly been. He had to get her back to the lab. Hiko took off at a brisk walk back toward his home. His company's lab would be better equipped for a treatment like this, but he didn't have the time to get back there. Rather, she didn't have that time. Gauging from her vitals and her shallow breath, she wasn't more than a few hours away from death. Her body felt remarkably hot against his, even in the sauna-like heat of this their city. He started moving even faster, realizing that she was a light enough burden to bear. This scene, he was sure, wasn't unfamiliar to the residents here. Someone barreling through the streets with a sick or dying cat person in their arms. It wasn't like the hospitals could do much for them, but at least they could ease their passing. Hey, stay with me okay? Hiko muttered, really hoping he wasn't carrying her back to his lab only to arrive with a catgirl's corpse instead of a living, breathing creature. He fumbled to open the metal grated entrance to his complex and then hurried up the two flights of stairs to his floor. He opened his door and laid her unceremoniously down on the couch. He took the vial of now-liquid D-67 from his pocket and set it on the counter near his computer. He threw open his fridge and began scooping ice into plastic bag, ziplock containers and whatever else he could use. He lifted her head and set a bag of ice under the back of her neck. He also parted her legs and set an ice bag between her thighs and then covered her forehead and chest with ice bags too. He knew from his limited clinical training that the best bet was to place ice in spots where the most blood flowed. Her femoral arteries in her crotch, her heart and lungs, and her head were bound to have lots of blood coursing through them. There. he said Hopefully that will cool you down for a minute or two. I'm going to prep a syringe. he told her. He fumbled with the remote and turned on the TV. Pay attention to it okay? he said. Don't close your eyes and don't stop listening to the TV he instructed. He had to keep her conscious. Hiko hurried to wash his hands, arms and face and then put gloves on before entering his lab, kept from the rest of the flat by a double door and a makeshift decontaminating chamber. He searched quickly for a syringe. His eyes had grown hard and determined and he thought with a cool, collecting deliberateness. He couldn't find any kind of syringe in his lab. Of course, why would he have a syringe? He was a biochemist. He growled in frustration, but hurried out of the lab and into his bedroom. In the pocket of the jeans he'd worn yesterday was his EpiPen. Hiko was suspected to be allergic to bee stings, but he'd never had to use the EpiPen. He ran back into the other room, shaking the catgirl to make sure she was awake. Keep watching! he said sternly. He went into the kitchen and in 5 minutes he'd figured out how to get into the chamber that would hold the liquid. He carefully emptied it and filled it with the D-67 protease. Making sure there were no air bubbles, Hiko leaned down and pushed the needle into the catgirl's arm, letting the protease flow into her veins. He pulled it out and found a bandage in his bathroom to cover her arm with. He tossed the EpiPen onto the coffee table and exhaled heavily. He also went to his medicine cabinet and helped her drink down a dose of fever medicine. He wasn't about to lose her to her overheating body if the protease was actually working. He sat down on the couch at her feet and committed himself to keeping her awake and responsive. Now all that was left to do was wait and hope that he wasn't too late, and that D-67 really would debilitate the virus that was quickly attacking her system. So what's your name? he asked.