2013.04.20 - Underworld Surgery

Roundabout room. It's dark, with old, rusted train cars lying about, presumed walled up and forgotten. Only, its not. Kurt has made this his home away from home, and given the length of time spent here? He's not made much of a presence here. Bedroll, backpack. It's a flashback to his former life, and he's used to it..
Kurt lies upon his bedroll, a dirty shirt pressed against his shoulder. Bleeding has stopped, seeping is all but done. A call, multiple calls, have been made- brief explanations.
Domino could have spent the last half hour railing on Kurt over the phone for letting himself be the backstop for a bullet, but what would it accomplish? She can do that later, after things are taken care of. She's still in town for another couple of days, this is just another reason why fate kept her within the city rather than joining Roy back out in Madripoor.
She's getting to be familiar with this part of the tunnel network. Trench in place, bag slung over a shoulder, pistol equipped with gunlight in one hand, she presses through the murky depths of the underworld in search of the other mutant.
It's kind of funny when she thinks about it. She's about the only person on the planet that knows exactly where to find this guy lately. She's highly driven by money. He's got a stupidly huge bounty on his head. All of the pieces are -right there,- and yet she can't take the job. How's that for luck?
"Hey, did someone down here order some Vicodin?" she calls out, her voice carrying into the distance as she comes around to the entrance of the tunnel. "Christ, Blue... It's -my- job to get shot, -not- yours," she says with a weary sigh, promptly stepping closer. "C'mon, let's have a look at you."
There were so many bullets flying around that he simply couldn't dodge them all! At the sound of approaching footsteps, Kurt is on the ceiling, hidden in the darkness so fully that even Wolverine wouldn't have been able to spot him. The announcement of your presence brings a sigh from the teleporter, and in the next heart's beat, he's on the ground next to you. Those glowing, yellow eyes look.. tired.
"There were a lot of bullets, leibling. I am good, but I am not that good." Kurt pulls the now ruined shirt off the wound, careful not to pull the fur around it.
"Yeah, well I'm gonna continue the trend here, because when it comes to pulling bullets I'm also not that good," Domino admits while crouching beside you and unslinging the pack. Away goes the gun, switching out to a much smaller flashlight that she can hold in her teeth while rooting around in her bag. "There's two ways we can do this, kiddo. First priority, the metal has to come out. After that, you can let me do the stitching or we can touch it closed with superglue. Option three being you getting this -properly- treated, of course," she finishes while dropping two pills from a blank prescription bottle into a palm then pulling out a stainless flask from an outside pocket. Both are handed your way.
Yep. Two Vicodin, mixed with a dash of rum. Thank her later.
"As you can probably guess, we're not going to do this in a proper fashion. Think less Grey's Anatomy and more House. The things they teach you in merc school, I tell ya," she says with a thin smirk.
Plastic bags are opened. Gleaming surgical stainless tools are laid out, sprayed down with CaviCide, rinsed off with bottled water.
Kurt leads you back to his bedroll and settles down, sitting cross-legged, his tail wrapping around him. "I don't think a visit to the doctor's is an option. Und you were the better choice to do this than mother. She offered..." and he left.
Those yellow eyes follow your hands, and he takes those pills and drink with gratitude. With a head-flip, he downs the vicodin and drink, a sharp exhale exiting after. "I figured you might have some experience with this.. " and he trusts you.
Domino pauses, looking down to you for a moment. 'Mother offered.' "Why am I not surprised that you got shot while in her company." She'll return the favor someday, count on that.
The trench and fingerless gloves are shed and discarded. Armored sleeves are rolled up a quarter of the way. Only then does she get to work, starting with the obligatory cleaning and disinfecting of the wound site. "Experienced is a word for it. I've pulled enough bits of undesired metal out of my own hide over the years. Less often on others, but the kinds of people I hang around tend to prefer their own medicine. I just get to sit around and listen to them bitch a lot."
Next step. If the displaying of tools isn't unsettling, the next bit, simple as it is, might do a better job. It's a wooden dowel, complete with teeth indentations. "Biting yourself hurts bad enough without fangs being involved. Take it or leave it. From here things only get more interesting."
"I was .. hired, along with others, to stop a man who was doing research on mutants," he says quietly, watching your 'final' preparations. "He was a mind -controlling mutant, so had a group guarding him. When they were handled.." Kurt takes a look at the proffered stick, and it takes him a couple of seconds before he takes it. "Mother discovered I was shot und she killed him.." is finished.
"The more time I spend in your company, the more I understand, leibling.. und not so much worry as.. look forward to seeing you again. Und, knowing you as I do? I knew that.. I couldn't imagine you not knowing what to do." Particularly on another. Self surgery? Not so much.
His shirt is off, and has been. If Kurt Is cold, he gives no indication, no complaints. He does look at the stick again, however, and before putting it in his mouth, warns softly, "No dog jokes?"
"So, motherly instincts coupled with murderous sociopath," Domino concludes on her own. "At least now I understand your religious angle." She pauses for another long breath, eyes momentarily closing as she thinks the situation over. "Listen..Kurt, I know this isn't the sort of thing you want to be told by anyone, but sometimes you do have to look at the bigger picture. Remember what happened to that -other- guy we came across that was doing research on mutants? He got a bunch of us killed with giant robots with energy cannons in their palms. If this guy hadn't been a threat you wouldn't have been sent to look for him in the first place, right? Speculating, of course," she says while gesturing with a hemostat in hand, "but, -maybe- she did us all a favor."
It isn't said for Mystique's benefit so much as for your own peace of mind. And her own. She knows you don't appreciate her usual level of violence when dealing with situations.
In the end that thin smirk returns, making the hemostat ends click together like a lobster claw. "I'm not sure this is a good excuse to make sure we spend more time together, Blue."
Right after saying that the light goes into her mouth. One hand bears down upon your shoulder, the pressure firm to keep you from squirming around too much as she digs into the wound with the sterilized hemostat.
"Nine millimeter. JHP. Distance approximately fifteen feet. Bet that one hurt like a bitch."
There's a slow, methodical -tik..tik- as she grabs onto the slug's jacket where it had separated from the lead core, making sure that she's got a good, firm hold of a part that won't be likely to break free.
"Hey Kurt. What do you call a dog with no legs?" She waits for a moment before answering her own question, "A Dalmation."
-YANK.-
Which is how Amanda knows that anything done to her son (like murder) would certainly bring her out. No question.
Kurt puts the stick in his mouth, nodding at your assurances. When everything lines up, he can see the logic in them. He just truly mourns the lost information, the lost research. That, he is aware now that you know his angle.. there, anyway.
Lying down, he brings a three-fingered hand up to cover closed eyes.The sound of the hemostats clicking echoes in his head. Kurt simply can't help it, though.. as your hand presses down to hold him still, his muscles tense.. and he tries, truly does, not to move. He growls in pain, however, his tail thrashing as you dig.. away from you. The commentary during is appreciated... sort of. Nodding his head, he comes out with a muffled, 'Ja'.. it hurt. A lot.
The yank of the bullet comes, coupled with the dog joke, and he tries very, very hard not to just teleport away, out from under your hands. But, with effort, he remains.. but that pull brings a new thrash of his tail and another growl. "Dog zhokes?" comes from around the stick,.newly imprinted with fang-marks.
Out comes the mangled piece of bonded metals, patched in red as Domino holds it under the light, slowly twisting it about as if in some demented form of admiration. To your question she lightly rolls her shoulders, "You brought it up. It wasn't supposed to make sense. I could have asked you 'why is the sky blue' and told you it's because of Leprechauns. Old trick, give the mind something to process that doesn't make any sense. Helps keep you from thinking too much about what's about to happen."
The bullet is discarded, then she's back to inspecting the wound for anything else that clearly doesn't belong. Pistol ballistics tend to not lead to the sort of fragmentation one gets when being shot by a rifle, particularly with modern bullet construction. The downside is that they also tend to leave bigger, nastier holes due to better impact dynamics.
She could talk about the subject for hours. What it means for you is that she doesn't need to tear anything else out of your shoulder. Lucky you. She sets the hemostat aside and pulls out a fresh cloth, shifting that firm pressure over the wound directly to staunch the flow of blood.
"Try not to make a habit of this, alright? You're a teleporter, teleporters aren't known for catching bullets. I've tried. Doesn't happen."
The piece of wood is removed, a gentle tug given to one of his canines to pull it out completely. "English is not my first language, leibling. It could have made perfect sense to you und I still would not have understood it.. perhaps." His words are tight, and as you lean on the wound to staunch the blood, Kurt hisses a breath. "There were a lot of bullets flying. It is to my credit that only one found a target. Six men, emptying pistols in a small room. Even you would not have emerged uninjured.."
As you lean, his hand that was covering his eyes rise to touch your cheek briefly. "Danke.. und I promise it will not happen again."
"Your English is fine," Domino counters in a tone that would suggest it better to not argue the point. She's still all about the tough love, though when you say even she would have gotten caught in the crossfire she passes a toothy grin back down to you, teasing "Don't be so sure about that."
When you promise that grin is gone in an instant, shaking her head while looking away. "Don't promise what you can't keep." You may have just struck a nerve. Either way, she pushes past it as quickly as possible. In one hand is another hemostat. In the other, a small bottle of superglue. "Pick your poison or I'll pick it for you, Blue."
The painkiller is beginning to kick in, and he lowers his hand, fingers flexing as the feeling begins to leave them. Kurt watches as you turn away, his expression pained for that flicker of time. As you return to face him, he's ready, his tones.. dragging a little. "Glue.. though mind the fur. I don't think-- no.. stitches. No glue on my fur. It will pull worse.. ja?" He's not feeling any pain, and the pricking of a needle won't hurt anywhere near what the poking around did. "I won't even complain if there is a scar. They are.. well.. chicks dig scars? In case the fur und tail doesn't catch their attention."
There's no nod nor sign of acknowledgement from Domino, she simply puts the glue aside and pulls out the kit. "It's gonna pull either way. No part of this process doesn't suck."
There's a quick squirt of a disinfectant foam to the inside of the wound, then she goes about threading the needle. "That's good, because there's -going- to be one. Not a plastic surgeon. Be glad that I've got what gear I do, flash cauterization is so not fun. Now, try not to think about the happy fun moment we're about to share. If you're ready to pass out then go ahead, you'll be doing both of us a favor."
Vicodin.. such a lovely drug! Two, mixed with rum even! Kurt is feeling no pain, and to show off that fact, he thwacks his tail into the ground.. hard with no reaction. Other than a slightly.. slurred, "I can't feel my tail.." Probably not words that are expected, but this is the fuzzy elf!
Those yellow eyes hold no pupils within, which may be a good thing. But, it is becoming more obvious that the drugs are taking effect. He doesn't flinch quite so much in the direct sterilization.. and he smiles widely at the acknowledgment of a scar. "I will have to think of a good story. One that will sound better than, 'I missed one..'"
"Yeah--hold still, wouldya?" Domino hisses when you slap your tail against the ground. "You might not feel this now but if you want me to stitch the -wound- then you need to relax!"
As she focuses on her work she can feel the energy slipping away from you, drifting into that dark, cloud-like bliss that modern pharmaceuticals can be so good at. Eventually she pauses, peering down at you for any sign of a reaction. "Kurt?"
Nothing? Good.
The rest of her work goes swiftly, no longer worried about you yelping or twitching as the needle weaves through your tortured skin.
Once the work is completed she packs up her gear and gets back to her feet, ready to make the return trek back to the surface so the rest of her day can continue. Yet, she hesitates. The sight of you lying there, now completely vulnerable from the pills. She couldn't just walk off and leave you to the good graces of hungry tunnel rats and mutated cockroaches...
"Goddamnit," she says under her breath, turning and settling down right beside you. Her trench is pulled over you for warmth before she kicks back with her head resting against an armored forearm, the flask of rum perched upon her stomach.
Looks like she's here for a while. May as well sit a spell and enjoy a drink. It's not like the cell reception is all that fantastic down this way.
Category:Log