fissionmailed | The Perfect Soldier

(Warning, post contains allusions to gore, decapitation, disembowelment. Scroll past/ignore if you're squeamish :'|)

[Null sits against the wall, staring over to the corpse of

a_lost_number. The other version of himself lays in a heap on the floor; fresh blood oozing out of the large cut through his stomach. The other boy's entrails spill out of the laceration, intestines and bodily residue litter the ground beside him -- along with his head.]

[The boy draws his knees up to his chest, his machete laying next to him -- coated in the blood of his duplicate. He can't stop staring at that beheaded corpse -- his own beheaded corpse, laying in front of him like this. No man can meet the Perfect Soldier in battle and survive -- not even the Perfect Soldier.]

[Clutching his head tightly, he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his teeth. The pounding just won't stop -- his head feels like it's trying to split apart. He finds his body trembling, unable to regain control over his senses.]

[...This is where he gets back into his coffin, right? Everything can just go away again? He'll get back into the tank if it will make his head stop hurting -- anything to make this pounding stop.]

(A little backdated but, this is the aftermath of this thread Warning: gore, decapitation, disembowelment. Open to everyone, especially anyone involved with that other thread.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As well as I, and others here. But here we must deal with the survivors when we return to life--what would your doctor think if you were dead?

[He tilts his head, curious.]

I am a doctor. It is my job to take people apart and put them back together. Further, you remind me of myself in some ways, and I feel the irrational compulsion to attempt to smooth the way by helping you. You may also prove an ally in the future if I help you now.

I do not have to replace your doctor to render aid. I am merely a passing soldier whose heart and mind tell me to help you. Possibly stupid, certainly, but I can cope with dying for this.

[He takes a liking to people at random, and Null is one of those people. Murderous children are almost always people he likes, and he's always felt an affection for knives.]

[He's silent again, he seems to be having a bit of trouble supporting his head. He manages to lift his machete and locate the sheath for the tool, slipping the bloodied blade inside (thankfully, without managing to injure himself further.)]

...I will allow you to assist me. However, I do not wish to be indebted to you. A perfect soldier cannot grant favours... [His words start to become slurred, but there is still little to no inflection in his tone. It is flat, devoid of any tangible emotion.] ...As he follows orders from but one man... Anything you require of me must be approved by my commander.

Of course. I would not impinge on your leader without his express permission. [Even a few minutes with the boy could give him information he could use, anyway.] Stay where you are.

[He walks over and kneels next to Null, pulling out a vial and syringe. He fills the syringe with liquid, sterilizing it before showing it to Null.]

This is morphine. It will prevent you from overstressing your body from the pain of your injuries. I'm going to inject it into you before I start cleaning your wounds. Are you having trouble breathing? Where do you feel hurt, other than your chest and your ankle?

[The bloodstains on him make those injuries obvious. He wants to make sure Null hasn't punctured a lung (and even if he hasn't, Pain think he'll still need a lot of work on that stab wound because fuck, that's a nasty sort of injury) and isn't bleeding internally.]

I may need to transport you to an infirmiry after this. Give me your arm for the morphine and remove your legs from your chest so I can get a better look at it.

[Slowly, he allows himself to untuck his knee fromhis chest, holding his arm out to the pain. His veins are easily visible thanks to his pale complexion at least.]

I am breathing... Normally. My head hurts. That is the extent I am aware of.

Good.

[No lung problems, then. That should make it easier to help the boy. He prepares Null's arm and inject him, putting a band-aid over it afterwards.]

The morphine should help your headache.

[He carefully rips clothing away from Null's stab wound, inspecting it carefully before pulling out a pair of sterile latex gloves, putting them on over his black gloves before getting sterile bandages and getting to work on bandaging.]

You're lucky. They missed your lungs and most of the major arteries in your body. It's pretty shallow too; another inch in and I'd wager you'd have bled yourself out already. However, this is bad enough [and he barely has enough supplies to stop the bleeding, much less properly take care of Null's injuries] that I'm going to patch you up to stop the bleeding and evacuate you to the infirmary. I'd prefer carrying you there to prevent stress on your body.

Do you understand?

[The morphine is quick to mellow him out. He leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes in an attempt to collect himself. If his head wasn't already in a muddle, the morphine wasn't helping matters -- but at least now, it was a largely painless muddle.]

...I will be fine with makeshift patchwork. Stopping the bleeding is all I request of you.

The perfect soldier heals fast.

No. If I do not disinfect the wounds, you will get sick and weaken. I imagine you've been injured badly in the past, but this is not a battlefield and you are not leaving without adequete treatment! You could bump into something and drop over from internal bleeding! And the morphine's got you halfway to Wonderland!

[He puts his hands on Null's hands, squeezing lightly.]

I am disinfecting your wounds and you are staying overnight so that when you see your master, you don't drop dead! I know you want to see your leader, but if you do not listen to me, you are going to die on the way to seeing him! Do you want to come back to him in a way that will make you sicken and fall? You may be perfect, but perfection can be halted by a body that will break!

[He may be overreacting to all this, but Pain has had enough allies dying from getting up too soon. Korea, Lebanon...he's been busy. He doesn't intend on letting this kid he likes well enough to bandage up run off and get killed.]

[...Pain sighs, exasperated. He hates kids sometimes. He can hear the steel in Null's voice; he knows it from his own, from when he has something he has to do.]

I certainly can't make you do anything. However, you are a prime target in this condition. Let me take you back and make sure you aren't going to kill yourself by walking around, ok? Your boss would be upset if you died.

[Null turns his head casting his gaze away from Pain. He allows the man to squeeze his hands -- he doesn't have much other choice after all. The morphine has him rather doped up at this point, he'd really rather not attempt to move himself. He's been injected with tranquilizers plenty of time; downed various pills to dull the pain or knock him out... But normally, Elisa tended to patch his wounds without relying on anything nearly as strong as morphine.]

...If I am to remain here, I request you send for my doctor to monitor me. Elisa understands the necessary protocol involved with caring for my well-being.

I do not know where your doctor is, nor do I know her radio. I am going to take you to an infirmiry and do a real job of treating your wounds, then let you go when the morphine wears off. Is this acceptable?

[Pain is used to dealing with Mr. Burn Wounds Fury, and so he uses morphine for a lot of things. He hasn't quite thought his decision to use it on Null all the way through.]

...You may tend to my wounds but if you are to keep me, you must allow me to privately radio my doctor. If I am not to leave until the effects of the... [He seems to forget the word]

...

[He completely loses his train of thought.]

Go ahead and call her. Where's your radio?

[If the kid needs help, he can provide it.]

[He's got a pretty good mellow going from the morphine now.]

....I'm not sure.

We can use mine.

[He pulls it out.]

What's her number? I'll dial for you.

The Perfect Soldier

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Loopy from giving blood, if my tag makes no sense, beat me with a stick /o/

It's fine, don't worry x3

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