029 [audio]
[The comm comes on in the middle of some very heavy breathing, and Razer's voice is distinctly pained. He clears his throat, swallows and clears it again before speaking.]
Blitz is gone. He--
[Pained hiss.]
He disappeared.
I think.
Not like him to--rrgh--to leave the job unfinished.
[Long silence, some more heaving breathing, then a faint ( Read more... )
Blitz is gone. He--
[Pained hiss.]
He disappeared.
I think.
Not like him to--rrgh--to leave the job unfinished.
[Long silence, some more heaving breathing, then a faint ( Read more... )
...Give him five minutes.
Until then, he leans on Erol a little more heavily than he should even once Phoenix is offering his support. Razer's head is tilted to just barely put his cheek to the younger man's hair--that's not intimate at all, really, Erol's just shorter so it's an automatic reaction--and the stretching of his neck makes the rather stark, handprint bruising over it even more obvious. He's covered in blood, but there are definitely bruises underneath.
That medical attention might be a good idea.]
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For now.
The almost-intimacy of his responses goes unremarked, though. He is injured, nearly passed out, and can hardly be held accountable. When they reach Erol's room, though, he frowns.
But he's already asked Razer's confirmation once. He isn't going to do it again. He narrows his eyes at the Krimzon Commander, silently communicating a dire threat.]
See that he receives the attention that he needs.
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Oh do go make yourself useful. Swab the decks or whatever.
[He swipes the door open and doesn't spare Phoenix the courtesy of a parting glance as he wrangles his better half inside. Razer's lost a lot of blood but the injuries are clotted over - there's little risk of further at this point. Right now the priority is shock, preventing infection and checking for less obvious injuries like internal bleeding.]
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He does. Only just, and he more or less falls on it, but he does. Thankfully, he manages not to drag Erol down with him. Completely. He lays there a moment before taking another breath and swallowing heavily. He's dizzy and his head is buzzing and his heartbeat is screaming in his ears, too fast and irregular to be anything close to normal.
He's lost a lot of blood; shock is a given.]
This one--
[He barely slides his left arm down the blanket, grinding his teeth and biting back a grunt of pain. He starts to shake.]
S-Started to heal--on the floor.
[He was on the floor. Mizo dropped that arm, he remembers how it felt when it hit the ground, remembers how he almost screamed from the pain even through the drug. He started on the other, while the first bled and clotted and bled and clotted.]
Carpet fibers.
[Either you pick the ones he didn't tear loose when he got up out of the scabbing one at a time, or you scrape the scab off and let it heal over again, because that isn't healthy at all.]
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[Blitz is so lucky, OH so lucky he's no longer here -
No, for once, his anger won't help. Erol's not a medic but he has enough field training to keep a man alive. He can get this taken care of, no matter what the situation means to him.
Hell, he's never had to wrestle with himself like this. He's never cared about anyone enough so that their injury should cause him this level of distress. It's surreal.
Clean towels, hydrogen peroxide, antibiotic ointment. The peroxide is going to sting like hell, but without access to Eco, Erol knows of no better way to stop infection in its tracks. And the wound has been open and unsanitary for so long that this is absolute priority.
He'll soften the blood clots up with it, flush them out, coat every inch of stripped flesh with ointment (this will clean him out, he'll have to get more) and wrap.]
Did he do anything else? Broken ribs?
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N-No, not--
[He gives another thick swallow, closing his eyes and trying to keep his head clear. Limit the stimuli, make it easier to focus. He's shaking now, though, shivering hard from the loss-induced drop in blood pressure and all this damn moving, so it takes a long minute before he can form coherent words again.]
Knocked a c-couple teeth...loose. They--th-they'll tighten back--
[He can't finish it, clenching his aching teeth to keep them from chattering. There are plenty of bruises, from his face to his midsection, a couple minor abrasions, but it's clear Mizo focused the majority of his attention on carefully skinning his best lieutenant's arms.
Absently, Razer wonders if having his tattoos carved off means he's fired. Does only losing the whole of one just mean a demotion?
...Does it even matter with Blitz apparently gone?]
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At least it looked like Blitz hadn't intended to kill Razer. That was, of course, before the man disappeared leaving his lieutenant to bleed all over the damn carpet, but it meant Erol wouldn't have to worry about any injuries he couldn't see. He wasn't a surgeon, definitely out of his league with anything more complicated than stitches or setting bones.
There were more skilled resources he could use... that damn robot doctor, and Glaukir. Erol knew that priest wouldn't turn down a chance to heal anyone; he would do it. But no. Razer's life wasn't in danger; Erol wouldn't blow that potentially vital ace on something he could handle perfectly well himself. And Razer knew very well the doctor was there; if he wanted that level of treatment, he would let Erol know. Until then it was military-grade field work.
The Commander spared a moment to prop Razer's feet up; the shift in blood volume would help him stay conscious. A few blankets to ward off the chill of shock; so what if they got bloody? Let the Stewardess bitch.]
This will sting.
[A low, brief warning as Erol pulled a lamp over for better lighting. He would offer painkillers, but unlike medical supplies he wasn't in the habit of keeping those around, and would have to leave to get them. Right now his priority was in cleaning wounds left open far too long. Besides, he was none to eager to mix narcotics with whatever Blitz slipped into his drink.
Carefully moving Razer's forearm to access the surface that had been left against the floor, Erol soaked a towel in peroxide and began to work at the raw flesh. He took care not to damage the stripped tissue any further, only removing what became pliable under the moist towel, but nothing would adulterate the penetrating burn of the world's most unforgiving and basic antiseptic.]
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He tenses when the Commander gives warning, curt and low though it is, clenching his eyes and grinding his teeth even harder, shaking and keeping his breathing as even as he can. Level, level, level--
Then Erol actually starts to work, and Razer bites back a scream.]
F--Fuck--
[Numbers are too easy. Multiplication tables never do anything, and reciting eco types in the hierarchy like he was taught as a child would just aggravate him ontop of the pain. Erol did firearms, but Razer knows he wouldn't be able to hold the attention, or keep the order correct. So he does something different.
Razer deconstructs his car--names off the armor from front to back, lugnuts, hubcaps, wheels. If he gets much further through the engine, he's just going to pass out.]
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