unbr8kable | IC Inbox

[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.]

[She walks over back into view, doing her best at looking reassuring (which honestly isn't very, sorry). She sets the leg down not too far from him, and a couple pieces of what's maybe? the port? She's brought everything that was there in whatever shape it had been in, so]

...This seem like everything?

[The leg is intact; the port mostly is, too, though the bits that ought to be attached to his leg are still bloody. One of the screws has something clinging to the surface that it's probably best not to look too closely at.]

[He glances over, doing his best to look alert and with it and not 2.5 seconds from falling apart, but - it must not be a good night for looking reassuring. He's not pulling it off very well, either.]

[But he nods to confirm that things are all accounted for, at least.]

[And that's one thing, at least.

She tries hard not to think about just how it happened to have come loose, or how long it must have taken, or just what is on that screw. Hopefully it won't clog up the sink, she decides to think instead. She takes another breath.]

...Sekhmet should be here any minute. You want me to clean you up some? Or you want me to leave you alone for now?

[He makes that noise again, the odd, breathy sound that probably means he's trying to talk. But that doesn't actually answer very much, so he just kind of - nods, and holds out a hand for her, and hopes she'll understand, so he doesn't have to get the phone out again.]

[Oh, that's the sort of sound she'll be hearing in her nightmares. But she takes his hand, and squeezes tight--it's not like things are going to hurt any less. With her other hand she reaches for the towel from before, still damp, and goes to wipe his other hand, so he can feel the temperature.]

This okay? I can go warm something up.

[He takes her hand and squeezes back, as tight as he's able. He's trembling again, or maybe he never stopped, hand clammy and cold.]

[At her question, he hesitates - weighs wanting the heat versus wanting her not to go - and in the end it's not much of a choice. He nods that it's fine the way it is.]

Okay.

[Giving another squeeze, she finishes wiping his free hand, then the hand she's holding. Finds a cleaner bit of the towel and uses it to smooth over his cheeks, gentle strokes wiping away the tear stains and blood trails, careful of any potential cuts or bruises beneath.

By the time she tips up his chin for a better look, the towel's more red than not--it's not going to be able to put much of a dent in the mess of his neck, much less his leg--but she stays close for now nevertheless]

[He stays still for her, mostly. As the cloth wipes away the blood, she finds that the skin on both his wrists is rubbed raw and ragged, twin bands that she probably recognizes all too well. They're more pronounced, this time; he's had much, much longer to try and escape.]

[There's bruising along his jaw, on both sides, and there are cuts and abrasions on the skin there and on his forehead. Also... the fake eye isn't quite in right, somehow. It's off-center, a little, as though it was removed and reinserted, but not attached.]

[He shakes, and he shakes, and he doesn't move away from her; he's holding onto her hand like he's afraid she's going to let go.]

[When she finally tips his chin up to look, she discovers that the cut is clean and deliberate, as though someone with a very precise instrument knew exactly what they were looking for, and what they were looking for was to shut him up.]

Edited 2019-12-09 15:38 (UTC)

[Around this time, Sekhmet enters the apartment, walking briskly towards the two and the pillow fort. She doesn't get a good look, but it's enough to put a cold, nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was expecting something bad, and poor Hurricane- this must be the 4th time- he suffers so much. But it's still horrible and heartbreaking to see. (All the worse for the excited reaction to such violence from that certain place in the back of her mind)

Without meaning to, she's blinking away moisture in her eyes.]

I, um, I'm here.

Ah--hey.

[Nemesis doesn't rise from where she's kneeled on the floor, and doesn't do anything to loosen the grip on Hurricane's hand. She does look up to greet Sekhmet at least, expression grim and face off-color. Her tone is obviously-forced casual nevertheless, as if open wounds and an impressive amount of blood scattered over the flooring is your typical Sunday night.

Which...well.]

So-- Guess you can see why I called. Think you can help some?

[He glances up from where he's kind of huddled into the corner - doesn't let go of Nemesis' hand, but gets the other up in a some kind of vague greeting.]

[He hesitates a beat - a beat longer - realizes he is going to actually have to say something, and fumbles his phone out. He rests it on his thigh so he can tap something into it, and after a couple of long seconds of painstakingly trying to do this one-handed, Sekhmet gets a text:]

hurricane: thx fr cming
hurricane: hld up a sec on healiing tho k

Edited 2019-12-09 20:04 (UTC)

[She kneels next to Nemesis to examine Hurricane and his wounds- surprisingly calm, but dour. This never stops terrifying her on some level, she is no expert on medical treatment or the human body despite her attempts to pore over certain books in the library, and attending John's first aid courses. Still, some part of her is able to remain objective and methodical in these situations.

Immediately, his injuries raise a lot of questions about what he was doing, and about the obvious fact that somebody must have caused them very deliberately.]

What would you have me do, then? Re-attach your eye and leg ports?

Yeah. Yeah? Probably?

[Looks to Hurricane to confirm, but seems right?]

If you heal the attach points too early, you just gotta reopen'em to get the port as part of the body, y'know? And that's probably gonna take some, uh, positioning, so turning off the feeling there'll make that be a lot less terrible for all of us, I think.

For his voice, I mean, also seems high-priority, but I dunno...I dunno.

[She indicates the precise slice over his vocal cords, but Nemesis knows much less about all this than Sekhmet does, so who knows if that can even be properly mended]

[His wounds are - extensive.]

[It looks like someone performed extremely thorough and somewhat exploratory surgery in order to detach his port, took his fake eye out and put it back in without reconnecting it, and slit his vocal cords. The injuries around his wrists hint at restraints that he fought like hell to get out of, and there's bruising and scrapes around his jaw, too, on both sides of his face.]

[He nods to confirm what Nem's said - lets her talk without interrupting. He doesn't quite relax - he's too keyed up to relax, tense and trembling - but jesus, is it ever nice to let someone who's looking out for him drive for a minute.]

[Gods, what trouble did he get into now? The brutality of it chilling, especially in the light of having recently acquired memories of herself being tortured. Maybe that's why she finds herself being so soft on kids of their age range, her own having been a living hell. And something seems particularly terrible about forcibly muting him.

She immediately numbs his whole body, and, rather uncomfortably, puts a finger into his throat wound, rubbing the torn larynx back into place and mending it, before sealing the wound.]

Um, try to talk.

Edited 2019-12-10 04:44 (UTC)

[Nemesis just watches. It'd probably be helpful if she went to grab some towels or water or something, but... Maybe for now just keeping hold of his hand is enough, even if he might not be able to feel it anymore]

Uh... testing, 1, 2, 3?

[His voice is a wreck. He sure did get plenty of screaming in before he got shut up for good, and it comes out little more than a hoarse whisper - but it comes out.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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