unbr8kable | IC Inbox

[He opens his mouth, like he wants to say something, but - nothing comes out. It's just an odd, breathy kind of wheezing sound. Maybe that has something to do with the blood all down the front of his shirt, that looks like it started in his throat. It's hard to say; with the way he's hunched in, it's hard to get a good look.]

[At the sight of her, his hands still, and then stop fussing with the belt. Honestly, they'd been shaking so hard they hadn't been doing much good, anyway.]

[Nemesis takes in another shaky breath and wonders if she'll be sick.

And then instead she gets her face back into place and walks for him, grabbing at the belt]

...Tourniquet, right? Anything else major after that?

[He lifts his chin, a little; taps at his throat above the place where there is a neat slit in the skin, not over the vein, but in the center.]

[His hands relinquish the belt easily enough; he's shaking, and shaking, and shaking, and it's honestly a wonder he's managed to get this far.]

[That explains that.

Ignoring it for now, she concentrates on the bigger issue--trying to wind the belt around his stump tightly enough to stop the flow of blood. She loops it around twice, or as close thereto as she can, hand white-knuckled on the buckle. Forces her tone steady as she does, even and conversational]

Called Sensitiv yet? Or I can in a sec.

[Up close, the leg is even more of a goddamn mess. The port is missing, and it looks like someone took it off the old-fashioned way. Skin has been peeled back and then pared away, probably more extensively than truly necessary, and the bone is showing through, in more than one place.]

[He should not be conscious, much less aware enough to attempt to first aid himself. If he's been bleeding as much as the floor indicates he's been bleeding, he probably shouldn't still be alive. Thanks, Heroes Never Die.]

[He gives his head a little shake, at the question about SensitIV.]

They can at least stop the bleeding, and the pain, I think. This's--a little past first-aid kit territory.

[She pulls tighter on the belt until it holds steady, digging into the sodden cloth and discolored skin and catching a bit at the open wound, since it's kind of difficult to avoid. She's finally able to force the buckle through the belt before getting a better look at his neck instead--has she clogged one leak only to expose another]

[A rush of air leaves him, when the belt catches the edge of the wound; he makes another one of those wheezing sounds, and his fingers scrabble at the floor, like they're looking for purchase. His left hand catches at her sleeve, and just - holds on, like he needs something to ground him.]

[The throat wound has been bleeding, but it's less of a mess, at least. It wasn't designed to hit a vein; it was designed to hit his vocal cords.]

Sorry... I--

[She cuts herself off; rocks back to scrabble for her phone]

I'm gonna call someone. Then I'm gonna get something to clean you up a little. Okay?

[He makes another one of those soft, breathy sounds when she pulls away - bites at his lip, and nods, and then nods again, awkward and jerky.]

I'm not going far, okay? I'm still here.

[She gets to her feet, shaky; starts searching through contacts]

See if you can remember where we found that wheelchair--hospital, maybe?

[He nods again, jerky and not entirely steady - hesitates, and then reaches for his phone.]

[The screen is already smudged with blood; he has a hard time typing anything with the way his hand are shaking, but after a long thirty seconds or so, he sends:]

hurricane: i lft y leg
hurricane: n the port
hurricane: sensiv's probly gonaa need th prt

Edited 2019-12-09 04:08 (UTC)

[Pauses before calling, looking back to him]

...Where is it?

hurricane: sm street
hurricane: wher i wke up

[There's a bit of a delay while he fumbles with his phone, and then a pic comes through: a screenshot of his map app, taken at what is presumably the location.]

[How far is that from here though]

[Not super far? Far enough that someone with two good legs could probably run it in about fifteen minutes.]

[It probably took him a lot longer, even with Heroes Never Die and the makeshift railing crutch on the hideout's floor.]

[Returns to the room, tossing (well. gently giving) over a damp towel and trying not to scream when it increasingly seems like the best thing to do]

That must've took forever, and you only now thought to contact anybody?

[And she cuts herself off, because that doesn't matter now]

--Who the hell did this to you?

[Well, the PLAN had been to get back here on his own, and clean himself up at least a little before she had to see this. Only he gave up partway, and texted her - but by the time she texted back he was almost here anyway, so -]

[But yeah, that doesn't matter now.]

[He starts tapping something into his phone - frowns.]

[Taps something else - deletes. Taps again.

[What finally comes through is only:]

hurricane: an idol
hurricane: smeone

[Fun fact: that is a stupid plan]

[Fear creeps back into the frown to meet the hurt and irritation and poorly-hidden distress]

You don't know?

[He spends - entirely too long, actually, trying to type something that comes through as only:]

hurricane: i kno
hurricane: name n unit
hurricane: i cant
hurricane: say
hurricane: i cnt say

[Absorbs this.

Breathes in, and breathes out.

Reaches out to touch the crown of his head, light]

...I'm gonna call Sekhmet, okay? And I'm gonna get your leg. That okay? Can you hold on 'til then?

[He hesitates a long, long couple of beats before he finally nods.]

[Then he taps in:]

hurricane: if u see smone
hurricane: dont let thm get clos
hurricane: ok?
hurricane: promise
hurricane: pls
hurricane: promise

...Don't worry, I won't.

[And--she's wasting time--she pulls away; gets to her feet and heads for the door, already hitting dial on the phone.]

I'll be right back, okay? I'll call pink team over; they'll knock. And I'll have my phone.

[With a last worried look back, she runs out the door, trying to make that fifteen minutes in much less]

[Cool.]

[Cool.]

[This is - fine. He's fine.]

[And he has time, before she gets back, and before SensitIV shows, probably. He means to wash his face, at least, and clean himself up a little.]

[But now that he's actually here, moving seems like some monumental task. It feels impossible to cross the room. He half wishes he'd crawled into the blanket fort instead of worrying about not getting the blankets bloody, because hiding inside it sounds like the most appealing idea he's ever had in his entire life.]

[In the end, he just curls up where he is, instead, resting his cheek against the wall and trying to stay alert until Nemesis makes it back.]

[Eventually there is a loud thud at the door]

[It is quickly followed up by the sound of the door opening and closing, and someone hesitating in the genkan before leaving their shoes on, look, somebody got blood all over the floor]

'M back, found it. You still with us?

[There is the faint rustle of fabric from the corner, as he makes himself uncurl enough to sit somewhat upright, but of course there is no verbal reply.]

Re: [Day 183, probably not too much after midnight]

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Re: [Day 183, probably not too much after midnight]

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