fissionmailed | Scratch my back

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neurotic_insect

Scratch my back

[Liquid is in an infirmary room. His coat, marred with several ragged holes in the back, is thrown over a chair.]

[One mirror is balanced on the operating table behind him. Another is on the counter in front of him. He's using both to get a view of his own back, and the shards of bullets embedded within.]

[He curses softly as he attempts to reach to dig them out with scalpel and forceps. The pain is an irritation. The slow leak of blood makes things slippery and even more difficult to see. The angle is awkward and stretching makes the wounds burn and scream.]

[Lesson of the day: no matter how infuriating he might be, punching a man with a shotgun is a bad idea. At least he can comfort himself with the knowledge that Volgin will make Raikov suffer. If not, the next time they meet...Liquid will be ready.]

[Once he gets these damned bullets out.]

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[Lucky for you, Dimitri was the sort to frequent the infirmaries to seek out refills of his sleeping pills, else he would never have found Liquid. He blanches upon seeing the blonde soldier, but almost immediately becomes curious as to what he's doing.]

That would be a lot easier with someone else working the forceps. [Against his better judgement, he walked into the infirmary, offering his hand to Liquid.] I'd harp on you for punching a man with a shotgun, but seeing as how you've come to understand that isn't a wise course of action, I'm willing to show a little mercy.

Hand over the surgical tools. You'll be forever at picking the shrapnel out of your back on your own.

[Liquid turns sharply to fix his eyes on the psychic and refuses to wince at the jab of pain it causes]

I'm doing fine. [The blood trickling down his back and sad, few pieces of shrapnel in the metal tray beside him say different.]

I don't need your help.

You're having a hard time seeing what it is you are doing.

[Opening the drawers around the infirmary, he produces a large box of moist towelettes and a pair of latex gloves, bringing them to the table.] At least let me clear away the blood. You'll never get a good grip on the bullets if they're too slippery, and this mess will make it harder to find them as you start losing oxygen to your brain.

[He slipped the gloves on, tearing open several packets.]

[Liquid does not let Mantis out of his sight. He narrows his eyes at him.]

What's your game?

I've had to help people who had bullets lodged into their bodies on more than one occasion. Unless you can directly access the perforated body part, it's better to let someone else dig the bullets out. [He dabbed at the blood, washing it away.] Hold still.

[There will undoubtedly be some discomfort as the young psychic coaxes one of the bits of metal to come clean from Liquid's skin, quickly holding the towelettes over it as he did another search for gauze pads.]

What I meant is what do you intend to gain by helping me. [Liquid doesn't consider this Mantis an ally by any stretch of the imagination.]

Agh-! [He glares through the mirror] I didn't tell you you could do that!

Nothing. It just annoys me when I see people who could benefit from assistance not asking for it. More to the point, the longer these things stay in, the more likely it is you could develop an infection.

[Gauze pads were found, and he quickly applied them to the hole left behind, the white fabric soaking up blood.] You didn't tell me explicitly that I could or could not do anything. It would have had to come out anyway no matter which of us had done the pulling, so why not just accept help when it's offered instead of questioning why it's being given?

We aren't exactly on - nkgh - good terms. You should be glad to see me bleeding.

[groans] If I say all right, will you stop babbling on?

[It appears to be too late anyway.]

I take a certain degree of joy from seeing anyone in pain, but it only feels truly good when I'm the one who caused it.

[A thoughtful sound that might have been a hum.] I suppose I could leave you here to finish this on your own, but now that I think about it, I might really enjoy this. It's a deal.

[Luckily for Liquid, Dimitri was being honest when he claimed to have pulled out bullets before. Back, shoulders, stomach, legs, even a couple of occasions where some poor schmuck got nailed in the ol' gluteus maximus. At any rate, the young psychic took his time observing the bits of metal he pried out of Liquid's back, gently as he could. Each wound was cleaned of it's debris and graced with a dab of antibiotic ointment before being covered in a gauze pad.

A whopping fifteen minutes of work, and all that left was the bandaging.]

Isn't that reassuring.

[He muffles his grunts as the psychic digs in his back. There doesn't appear to be any way to stop him that isn't more effort than it's worth.]

[He keeps a close eye on the ointment to make sure it is in fact antibiotics and not anything nasty.]

You're experienced at this. How helpful.

Don't sound so morose about it. I can be a sadist, but I'm a highly reasonable one.

[Starting the bandage along his stomach, Dimitri wrapped up Liquid with as much care and precision as the bullets lying on a now very bloody square of gauze.] It's a lot easier to get a bullet from someone's back than their ass, I'll tell you that much. Not very hard to clean up either.

[Heh. The white of the bandage was making Liquid look kind of like a half-dressed mummy. And it was just an antibiotic ointment. Liquid hasn't gained nearly enough of the young psychic's ire for such treachary.] Lift your arms.

You need to work on your bedside manner.

[dryly] Did you play nurse before joining the KGB?

[Liquid obeys as though it were his own idea.]

Bedside manners are for people who are trained medical professionals.

[Flicking Liquid's underarm...] Necessity of working in the field. Eventually, even the most unqualified Soviet spies learn some basic tricks of the medical trade.

[After a few passes over his shoulder, Dimitri felt satisfied with how Liquid looked.] Not strictly perfect, but as long as you keep the skin clean and bandage it often, it should heal up easily.

[scowls at the flick] You're not much of a spy if you go around announcing it.

[Liquid shrugs his damaged coat on over the bandages and ignores the twinge that comes from every movement. He's had far worse.]

I didn't ask for your help.

Well, whether or not someone knows I used to work as a spy or not doesn't matter much to me. I made my best attempt at leaving that behind. It's history. Nothing worth hiding.

[The latex gloves were discarded along with all the other residue of paper and gauze.]

I know... [Pause] But it gave me something to do, and it took less time overall. [No, he didn't miss the old days. The life-or-death days. The paid assassin and information gatherer days. The exciting days.]

What do you now, if you're out of the game? Parlour tricks can only take you so far.

Hmph. True, it would have taken longer by myself. [That is as close as he's going to get to thanks.]

Parlour tricks? [Now you've insulted him.] Telepathy and psychokinesis aren't simply parlour tricks. I am feared and respected for my talents. The FBI agents who offered the job to me all but begged for me to say "yes".

[Smirk] Just try not to piss off people with shotguns again. It'd be a waste if you lost an arm to a well-aimed shot.

[Someone is looking reproachfully at her brother.]

What did you get yourself into, Liquid?

[He glances at the woman in a copy of Snake's clothes, then goes back to work.]

I'm no brother of yours, girl I haven't got any sisters.

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Scratch my back

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Stupid notifs and their stupid not working

LJ still has some kinks to work out, it seems. :T

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