iii. - [ VOICE ]

[brandedjustice]

Anyone already signed up for the Task Force, I need you on the docks now. No questions, no nothing. I need that placed locked and secured.

[There's a harsh whirl of air; it nearly muffles Smoker's voice completely.]

Damnit, kid. Why did it have to be you?

[ooc; strikes are muffled. Smoker is raising hell by the docks and he's coming for you,

Comments

Action;

[brandedjustice]

[Despite his strength, Smoker solidified almost immediately after Giovanni's departure. His head cracked against solid wall, smearing it with distinct trails of blood and grime; he felt ill, sick in his stomach that his prey had escaped. It was more damage to him personally than any bullet wounds or head trauma and he growled out Giovanni's name through the phlegm that had heavily built up in his throat.

His body slummed, knees too weak to keep him up anymore. He watched through the cloudy-darkness, examined the twisting smoke that tried to hold his body together. His own logia felt like it was choking him off, smothering him instead of the enemy. The Commodore coughed and groaned. fingers digging into solid concrete in a desperate attempt to just fucking stand. Stand damnit, he barked internally. If you don't fucking stand - ]

Spike - get him out of here. Get him out! [Wild eyes tried to make out the form of Kasukabe, but he was only a shadow in the ever-growing mess that swirled in the Marine's vision. His teeth pulled back, revealing stained ivory and battered lips.] - that's your damn order!

[His feet ground into the floor as he tried to stand again, but he couldn't.] Giovanni. [Only a whisper now, faint and dim.] Giovanni! [A roar from the pit of his stomach; it split him open, spilling a nice chunk of blood onto the floor, which was chased quickly by smoke - grab it, grab it, put it back, heal yourself, kill the pirate. No, not a pirate. Enemy. Just that plain and simple - a murderer of justice, of righteousness and he was slipping away into the dark that flooded him.

Thump. Smoker felt like his head was going to split into two. Thump. Was that blood pumping through his veins or just smoke? Was that all he was? Smoke and ash - blood was hardly a concept he understood anymore. A life's blood pumping through thick veins; it was masked with smoke, always with smoke. Another growl and the Commodore was pushing his way through the door.]

GIOVANNI-! [He screamed, or maybe just gurgled. But his back met a wall and he was stuck there as his vision padded away into the dark, smothered in black, smothered in ash.]

Action;

[meronymous]

[ oh, it was always troublesome when his patient (or patient-to-be, sometimes) refused to sit still. but kasukabe knew better than to try and argue with someone this far gone. especially since it looked like they were made or smoke. intriguing and confusing, and kasukabe made a mental note to himself to gather some of this smoke later as he waded into the midst of it to tend to 'spike.'

it was difficult to see and breathe and move in all this smoke, but kasukabe still managed somehow. grabbing the lapels of the jacket, he dragged the unconscious form across the floor (it would have been nice to lift up his patient, he thought, but unfortunately strength wasn't quite his forte) and out the door. and once outside, he gently laid the figure down on the pavement to inspect the headwound. it was a nasty looking cut, bound to leave behind a nasty concussion, but it didn't look fatal.

the commodore's wound, on the other hand, had definitely looked worrisome.

somewhere down the streets, he could still hear the distant screech of his termite pursuing the attacker. jackson's carapace could easily deflect small-caliber bullets, he knew. it would be nice to be able to catch the pursuer, but he worried that jackson wouldn't get back in time to help him move the commodore to a safer location, because god knew kasukabe wasn't anywhere near enough to move the other by himself.

speaking of which. sighing, he waded back into the building, shielding his eyes from the residues of smoke. he spoke calmly, as if discussing an annoying bout of weather: ]

I think he'll be fine, but to be honest, you probably need the medical attention more urgently now. Would you please stay still and wait for a moment? Jackson will probably be back soon and can carry you.

[ the medical bag he'd brought along hung at his belt -- just the absolute necessities. he'd have to transport these two to his makeshift lab as soon as possible. ]

Action;

[brandedjustice]

[Wounded eyes slid to watch Kasukabe emerge with Spike wrapped up in his arms. It made the Commodore silent for a moment as he tried to push away the fog - Spike had gotten it rough and that was his responsibility. His men counted on him and now, he was in no state to even lend them any sort of hand.

Smoker's eyes shut as he let his body collapse by the entrance way. Numb fingers twitched to life, running up familiar lapels of leather, over tough green fur, to strapped down tobacco. Two were removed, plucked from their resting spots, and placed in his mouth after a couple of seconds of fumbling. A flick and a flare later, and the Commodore was sucking hard on dry tobacco, tasting as it meshed with the copper aftertaste of blood.]

Then start patching - [His voice was weak, but hard. He threatened his medic with a growl at the end, as if this were just a normal battle wound or something on those lines. Teeth clamped down on his cigars as he inhaled again, feeling his chest rise and his lower stomach region pump more evidence out onto the main street.]

Tsk - [His head lulled back, rubbing against the back wall like it was the best massage in the world. His face muscles hardened then and his hands slumped to his sides; one fell into clean earth, the other found a nice forming-puddle of DNA to rest in. Smoker wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, that he of all people was bleeding out, that he of all people was smack-dab in the middle of another war.]

Out of one rat hole and into another - [Humming, his throat bobbled as he tried to swallow.] - remember my jitte. [A fog consolidated over him, his logia reacting to the loss of blood violently. The Commodore just remained silent as he lifted away his jacket to press a tight hand to the bubbling wound. Kasukabe had better be the medic Smoker hoped he was.]

Action;

[meronymous]

[ trotting after smoker, over to where he had collapsed on the ground, kasukabe simply stared at the hulking form for a moment before deciding that attempting to move the other would only be a waste of time. he did, however, plop down on the ground and start to don a pair of surgical gloves, extracting what supplies he had from their protective cases in his med-pac.

any intense surgery would have to wait until they got to somewhere cleaner and more stable, but he could at least stop the blood for now. snapping his gloves on, he deftly sliced a section of smoker's shirt away from the gunshot wound. lifting up his scalpel for a moment before pausing -- and pulling a pre-prepared syringe of anesthetic out of its sterilized container. leaning up, he jabbed it into the appropriate vein in smoker's arm without warning, saying cheerfully, ]

I'm afraid the dose isn't big enough to knock you out completely, and two shots would be a bit too much. It'll take the edge off the pain, though, and we can put you on something more stable once we get somewhere cleaner.

Oh, and --

[ leaning up, he neatly plucked the cigars out of smoker's mouth. ]

I don't think it's a good idea for you to be smoking right now. Please stay still.

[ he was still endlessly cheerful as he started working on the biggest injury. the broken ribs and other blunt trauma injuries could wait, but tying off the severed veins and stopping any internal bleeding came first. -- and in the distance, jackson the termite slowly came scuttling back down the street with a scrap of giovanni's jacket held in its mouth. it sounded a little disappointed as it clicked, settled down on the ground next to smoker ]

Action;

[brandedjustice]

[One eye pried open, watching in disdain as Kasukabe plucked the cigars from his mouth. He mouthed something, sending smoke pouring out from his teeth.] You don't tell me if I get to have those or not. [But he made no other fuss and, instead, just turned his head back to the cooling comfort of slate behind him. He hadn't been to the hospital in years, so the feeling of the injection sent his hairs bristling in response. Smoker's face contorted a bit, but that was the only gesture he gave of displeasure.]

I'd rather be awake to make sure Spike will make it back to HQ. [The skittering of insect legs made him open his eyes again; before him was a piece of cloth, tattered and torn, but unmistakable. A smile tugged at Smoker's lips, bitter but content.] Good bug. [He reached out with a good hand and grabbed the fabric. His thumb rolled across plain white, painting it a bit with blood. Smoker tilted his head, expecting how the trails dotted white.]

How much do you know about genetic modifications, Doc?

Action;

[meronymous]

HQ? I don't know where your HQ is located, but I was going to have Jackson take him to where I've got a little lab set up. I've got better equipment there, and it will probably be more sterile. He might need a stitch or two for that scrape, so I'll be examining him once you're out of critical condition.

[ his movements didn't pause, even as he spoke, and he deftly tied off a spurting vein. the bullet was lodged a bit too deep to dig out without cutting wider, and that was a job he preferred not to tackle out in the open. ]

Genetic modifications, not much, but I know a bit about magic users and their physique. I'm assuming you're a little different since your smoke isn't black -- but I can probably work around any little differences, I'm used to dealing with oddball cases, running a magic victim clinic, haha.

[ he'd stopped the majority of the heavy bleeding, and he taped the injury closed before standing up and popping his joints. immediately, jackson was nudging closer, ducking low to wiggle wings under smoker's weight and lifting the commodore up carefully. it took a few maneuvers, but eventually, smoker was resting on the termite's back, and kasukabe nodded before taking his gloves off. ]

He's a pretty gentle ride as long as you don't move -- but I don't think there's much room for me. He'll take you to the lab and let you off, then come back for myself and Spike. Is that alright?

[ as he spoke, he fetched the abandoned jitte, holding it up with some effort ]

Action;

[brandedjustice]

HQ is the dock area I had cleared out - but we'll take care of this business first. I need to be ready to get back on the front. [Smoker was imaging how fucking ridiculous he looked on the back of an overgrown termite, but beggars couldn't be choosers, especially not when he had lost too much blood to even raise his arm above his head without exerting effort.]

Simple - I am smoke. No salt water near me and we're golden. [He slumped on the bug's back and huffed. He wanted a damn smoke, but Doctor-Feel-Good was watching. He'd have to wait until he was back in his bunker; he'd have his cigars and rum and everything needed to wash away the stench of Giovanni. But first - ] Your bug is well trained. Make sure you get Spike there soon; I don't want to lose him. [His voice was a bit pained, but he masked it under grunts and snorts. Real manly, that Marine.]

Welcome to the Task Force, Doc. Hope you're ready for the ride. [Fingers of smoke peeled off, wrapping around the jitte. They held it loosely before thrusting it into the strap on the back of his jacket. Once the task was done, he solidified again.]

Action; aaaa sorry for late :'|

[meronymous]

Ah, I see!

[ kasukabe didn't even attempt to hide the interest in his voice. (note to self: procure blood and tissue samples during surgery for later examination, may possibly be linked to the transformative smoke of magic-users.) and he watched in abject fascination at the smoke that curled around the jitte, lifting it up. the seamless transformation from flesh to smoke and back again was scientifically impossible, and he couldn't wait to start looking into the mechanics of how that worked. ah, so interesting!

-- still, for now, the patients came first, and he gave a cheerful grin and a nod in response to the commodore's words ]

Don't worry about him, I'll be sure to fix both of you up well. And I'm glad to be of help -- I was looking for something to occupy my time, haha.

[ and with that, he leaned forward to tap jackson on the head, pointing down the street. as the termite went speeding away with a low squeak, kasukabe nodded, then crouched down to monitor spike's vitals -- just in case. ]

Action; I feel too lazy not replying to this at least once;;

[7livesleft]

[Spike imagined himself being dragged somewhere; like a dream he couldn't control or make sense of. A very loud, annoying dream, with gunshots and explosions and the lingering feeling that he should be raising hell about something or another.

He felt his hand wet before he realized he'd brought it to his head and suddenly he was brilliantly and painfully awake.]

Ah--

[Vaguely aware he wasn't alone, he cracked one eye open and winced against the smallest amount of light that drilled directly into his skull. He thought he asked how long he was out, but he couldn't be too sure.

Pushing his arm behind him, surprised at how sore it was, he propped himself up to a half sitting position and forced the person beside him into focus.

He stared hard for a moment, like he was someone he remembered... but he wasn't. Spike closed his eyes again as his head split open and wondered why he wanted to wake up for this in the first place.]

Christ...

Action; after a million years ._.;;;

[meronymous]

[ it wasn't that far from here to the lab and back, but kasukabe had told jackson to run as smoothly as possible, so it would take at least a few minutes. ample time for him to cut through spike's ropes, rearrange his limbs in a slightly more comfortable, elevate his feet with a few bricks lying around, and then sit around the curbside waiting. and of course, being the fidgety type, he wasn't exactly just sitting still. the gloves drenched in smoker's blood, he'd carefully sealed in a plastic bag for later examination, and he sat holding them up to the light and squinting at the blood. it certainly didn't look any different --

ah. noise. his patient must have woken up. sliding the plastic bag back into his medipack, he turned to spike with his usual amiable smile ]

Hello! You probably don't want to get up just yet. I'm pretty sure it's nothing serious, but you still might have a concussion, so it's best to stay still.

[ ah, but while spike was sitting up. -- without really pausing his words, he'd pulled a penlight out of his pocket, and he leaned forward to shine it into spike's right eye and check for the appropriate pupil contraction ]

Ah, I'm a doctor, by the way. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing.

Action; ahhh also really slow oopes :(;;;

[7livesleft]

[The man in front of him was talking, and Spike did his best to process what he said through the pulsating pounding of his ears. An accident? Spike was scanning around him for the ambulance and thinking how much he hated hospitals before he remembered where he was. Just not how he got there.

Light flashing in his eye caught him off guard; for a brief second he saw a reflection of wires and circuitry and jerked back, slapping the hand away in the process.]

Hey!

[The sound of his own voice was distant, but he knew he'd said it loud enough for him to hear. In case he didn't, Spike added an accusing glare.]

What did you say? Who are you?

Action;

[meronymous]

[ ah -- at least it looked like there wasn't any bad damage, here, judging by the healthy tone of voice. brushing off the snapping answers with no effort, kasukabe only gave spike a grin. ]

A doctor. Call me Kasukabe, and I said that you probably shouldn't be moving around too much, since you might have a concussion. But hold still for the moment.

[ moving spike's raised arm out of the way with the gentle-but-firm, practiced hand of an expert, he leaned back in to check spike's other eye, giving a firm nod at the proper pupil contraction this time. not that he could resist checking the opposite eye, too. announcing, sounding fascinated, ]

Ooh, it's a fake. I wondered for a moment if I'd have to correct some nerve damage.

Action;

[7livesleft]

[He tensed and narrowed his eyes once Kasukabe was done examining them.]

Works just fine.

[There was a reason his partner usually doubled as his doctor back on the Bebop. Jet might have given him grief from time to time, but he knew better than to get too close to things that should be left alone. And even he didn't know about his eye.

With that he looked back towards the warehouse nearby. He thought about asking what happened, but he didn't particularly want to let on that he couldn't remember any of it. For all he knew, he'd fallen off the damn roof.]

So where did you come from?