Post by Eira on Nov 13, 2015 20:30:20 GMT -5
"No."
Altman sputters, his pallor washed away in a wave of crimson. "NO!? Do you have any - ANY - idea what I've had to do to arrange this!? Regardless of Cleric Veronica being terminated from the Order, you're still skating on biscuit-thin ice with some of the upper ranks."
"Biscuits aren't thin." A smile curves her lips as he crosses his arms, glaring down at her.
"You know quite well that what you lot call biscuits are not in fact proper biscuits. You're also evading the point!"
She looks down for a moment, her eyes raising to his. "I don't want it."
"This is the only way you're going to be able to continue competing, by which I mean the only way you are going to be any kind of use to us at all."
"The doctor said -"
"The DOCTOR doesn't have access to our... alternative medicine."
Lurching upright, she growls through clenched teeth as the pain of the movement lances through her skull. "The Spellslingers - I don't WANT IT. They BROKE Sean, they damaged something in him and manipulated him. If the Order mistrusts me, how am I to believe that they'll heal me instead of reprogramming me?" Real fear sends a tremor through her. "What if they make me hurt someone? What if they make me hurt Murdoc?"
Altman lays gentle but implacably firm hands on her shoulders to push her back onto the bed, leaning down over her. "They won't, and I've made sure of it."
Eyes closed and pale from the pain, sardonic disbelief still manages to twist her features. "How?"
He grins, a never before seen predatory gleam in his eyes visible from behind his spectacles. "I know things, Eira. People, they desire many and varied things from me. In order to get it, they often go to great lengths to endear themselves to me. I have saved conversations, illicit images, confessions, all of it. This Spellslinger thinks she's merely doing me a favor to further ingratiate herself to my good graces."
Eira's eyes open as he spreads his arms with pride.
"And she knows damn well that should even the slightest harm or backfire befall you, I will systematically dismantle her world from the ground up."
She carefully adjusts her position, wincing as the pain spikes through the heavy morphine dripping shadowy bliss into her bloodstream.
"Altman, I..."
He leans in again, grey eyes pinning Eira to the pillows behind her. "You have no chance against Sadistic, Showtime, or Stormm unless you agree. That's not even to consider your teammates, this bizarrely fanatical incarnation of Judge and Jury. This surgery takes months to fully recover from, and you've done so much damage to yourself until this point it's amazing you aren't brain dead."
She looks away to avoid his gaze, her eyes falling on the sad remains of another meal from the hospital gourmet menu. One gets so very, very tired of Jello. A long, bereft sort of sigh lifts from her as she steels her resolve.
"Alright. I'll do it. When?"
Michael Altman smiles, a hint of warm approval in the expression. "Now. Then we'll 'transfer' you to the Order facility -" he raises a hand as she opens her mouth to protest "- which really just means we'll be bringing you home."
He slips a slim phone out of his inner coat pocket, tapping out a quick message before stepping towards the door, admitting entry to the woman waiting patiently on the other side. A professional smile on her face, she greets Eira before Altman.
"You've caused quite a stir, you know. Don't worry - I'll be able to fix you right up."
Eira casts a skeptical look over the other woman. "Fixed up? All the way?"
"I haven't been contracted to assist with your knee - but I can complete the healing process for your skull. You'll be back to %100 function with no lasting brain damage."
Doubt clear upon her face, Eira squints up at her mystical benefactor. "Please don't nuke my brain."
With a low chuckle she reaches out, hands on either side of Eira's head, whispering words in a language long since thought dead. A lilac haze limns her fingers as the air thickens, the silvery-haired warrior's eyes closing as consciousness slips gently away. The woman glances over at Altman, who gives her a nod.
"She's out. Proceed."
"What we agreed upon?"
"That and nothing more."
The woman nods, curls brushing her shoulders as she closes her violet eyes and begins her work, the lilac tendrils deepening through purple, to plum, then indigo as she probes deeper and deeper into Eira to heal the damage. Altman remains at her bedside in silent vigil, his watchful gaze focused on Eira's sculpted features.
"There must be no mistakes."
* * *
Pacing back and forth like a caged wolf, Murdoc lunges for the door as soon as he hears the knock. A thousand images flash through his mind - Eira on the floor at Trauma, his race to the hospital where the roaring of the engine was drowned out by the roar of panic in his head, the doctor explaining the surgery she needed, his hand signing the waiver...
He steels himself, ready for whatever the Order had to do to make her alright. Neck braces, bandages, a wheelchair, even a halo brace. Opening the door, he sees - just her. Amber eyes shining in the light pouring over his shoulders, she throws herself into his arms, Murdoc pulling her close to his heart in a wordless embrace.
Time passes - moments? An eternity? Before she finally breaks the silence. "It's alright. I'm here."
He holds her at arm's length, examining her carefully. The dark circles under her eyes seemed the only testament to the damage of the last several weeks. Running his hands gently through her hair, his fingers graze her scalp, detecting no damage other than the extra firm feel of the repair site.
"Did they really...?"
She smiles, nodding. "They did."
Grinning, he pulls her close again. "So you don't hurt anymore?" The hope in his voice is adorable - and heartbreaking.
Her smile fades as worry clouds her face. "She said there was something she couldn't fix. Something Sadistic has done, a black, tarry presence she couldn't remove."
He frowns. "She's a high ranking Spellslinger. Couldn't she -"
"No, Love. She did her best."
"What is it? What did he do to you?"
Eira shrugs. "I don't know. Neither does she. Altman is doing what he can to research it, but that's going to take time. He's never heard of this phenomenon before."
His grip on her tightens as his muscles respond to his rising ire. "I will take every ounce of pain he's given you and return it to him tenfold. There will be fire, and there will be blood."
"We'll get there, Love. I just need to wait til Trauma, then I can test out my new hardware."
"The Saints, eh?" He shakes his head in amused disgust. "How pretentious of them."
She raises an eyebrow, amused. "It's pro wrestling. We're all a bit pretentious, the one way or the other."
"Still though... you've got all the proclivities of a Catholic schoolgirl grown up and gone naughty, and you're paired with a couple of fanatical zealots."
"Should be fun, though given who they are I doubt I'll shock them at all."
"Don't shock them, hurt them."
She rolls her eyes, resting her cheek against his broad chest. "Yes, Sir."
"And your opponents... I don't like seeing you going into that ring with them AGAIN. Especially not after all this has been going on."
She pantomimes his scolding tone wordlessly against his sternum, stopping wide-eyed when she realizes he's watching her. Busted.
"I mean it. Sadistic, Showtime, AND Stormm?"
"Stormm?" Eira snorts, shaking her head. "I'll worry about him when it seems like he's taking anything seriously other than his own problems. Fuck, that goes for most of PCW's roster these days."
"Showtime?"
"Showtime tried to fucking paste my skull, so in return I'm going to make pâté out of his giblets."
"Humans don't have..." He trails off as she raises an eyebrow, staring pointedly at his crotch. "...oh."
"Let me guess, next you're about to talk about Sadistic?"
A growl rumbles through his impressively barrel-like ribcage. "I don't want to talk about him, I want to destroy him."
She butts her head playfully against his chest. "Nope, I get dibs. You'll have your turn - they've started calling you the Monster of PCW, you know. It was mentioned on that new broadcast the company has going."
He chuckles, the anger fading in the face of her return to him. "Well, now we can honestly say you're metal as fuck."
A soft smile curving her lips, she steps closer and nuzzles at his neck. "As if there ever any doubt."
