Scratch my back

[leashedliquid.livejournal.com]

[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.]

Comments

[neurotic-insect.livejournal.com]

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.]

[leashedliquid.livejournal.com]

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.]

[neurotic-insect.livejournal.com]

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.