The Attacked | Plot Drop 01
Thursday 12 November 2020; Evening. You are working in the Triage Center when two Spade Citizens (ones) come in. Both have been badly beaten and are being helped inside by some Spade soldiers. The soldiers drop them off, saying they haven’t been able to make sense of their slurred words and have no idea what happened to them.
Once you heal the human male enough for him to be able to speak clearly he tells you he and his partner were attacked in Club Territory. The attackers had assumed that, since they were Spades, they had water rations on them. They didn’t, but the attackers hadn’t believed them until they’d beaten them and searched the pair themselves.
Mark is being absorbed in an anatomical book when it happens.
Years and years in the Spade army have trained him to get used to almost all sorts of disturbance, and to deal with them properly. But, the emitter guesses, it would never be enough to get him desensitized to the pain of those who have to see themselves at Triage Center. With time, Marcus has learned to estimate the damage right from the sounds of their suffering. Most of the time, the more serious the wounds, the quieter the injured are likely to be.
The two battered citizens in front of him would have been pretty much quiet – and they should have been – if the soldiers had figured that it’s nearly useless trying to get information from those busted lips, bleeding tongues, and missing teeth.
“Thank you all so much. And please,” his eyes momentarily move from the two injured to the soldiers who have just helped them in, “it would help a lot if we are a bit more gentle to these cases, especially humans, don’t you think?” The corners of his lips tug up a polite smile, then it waited until the soldiers left the center, when it softens down to a more comforting one as he looks back and kneels down beside the two injured.
“You two will be alright soon. It would just be uncomfortable for a few moments, ‘kay?” He assures both the males, scanning their wounds while calculating the best ways possible to get them healed. Having treating injuries on humans for decades, Marcus is confident to take care of the human citizen. However, while his anatomical knowledge about strongarms can be deemed efficient, his manacore still needs more time to achieve the full capability of treating ones. He might try, but not without great risks of burning his mana veins to ash and leaving nasty scars on the poor citizen.
Without another second of hesitation, the Emitter gets back on his feet to fetch a higher-rank fellow, who – thanks God – just a room away and is ready to help. He then darted back to the human, and immediately gets down to business. Silver magical threads come out after a light touch on his manacore, and the facial wounds are always privileged.
His dainty wrists and fingers dance along the rhythm they have been well-acquainted with, up and down and right and left, some rotates here, some strokes there. Dislocated joints require calculated strength, while shattered bones demand meticulous patience. Internal injuries, however, need the patient’s corporation to be identified. “Let me know when it hurts, yes?” He asks the human male for permission, before gently pressing his fingers on the once-badly-bruised torso, while his eyes observe closely for the slightest of winces on the male’s face.
As expected, their biggest problem lies around the belly area. The bruised stomach and liver left almost none of his manacore for the damaged gallbladder, yet Marcus took the challenge, and (thankfully) finished fixing the man before getting himself totally burnt-out. Wiping the heavy beads of sweats off his forehead with his own sleeve, the emitter looks up at now-entirely-healed human to ask the question those Spade soldiers have tried to get the answer in vain. “What happened to the two of you?”
Marcus may be able to anticipate the reply, yet it can’t stop his eyebrows from knitting tight together in a rising abhorrence for the culprits. Although he has never wished to carry any sorts of negative feelings around, this situation deserves a stronger reaction than his usual composure. But no, he isn’t going to dart out of the Center and hunt down the guilty attackers, for that should be done not by an emitter.
Giving the human some private space to collect himself, Marcus goes to find Max, patiently waits until she’s got a few moments for him, then reports to her what he’s heard from the man.
“Ma’am, we’ve just healed two Ones badly attacked at the Club Territory. One of them said it was because the attackers thought they’ve got water with them. I’m not sure if it’s worthy of attention, but I guess I should inform you about the issue.”
(feature @its-max-okay)
