Dangerverse Chronicles - part 2
First part is here.
Title: Dangerverse Chronicles
Author: transnoctem
Rating: PG-13
POV (this chapter): DrDeathDefying
Disclaimer: This is a fanfic. I own nothing apart from OCs, who will be announced separately. The characters belong to MCR, and so does the world.
Summary: A collection of stories from the Dangerverse, told over a period of time and from a variety of POVs.
A/N:
re: Adrenaline shot: this is fanfiction, not a medicine handbook, and any research done on injections of adrenaline is courtesy google. I was purposefully vague on the administration thereof. For what it's worth, the combination of 'medications' given by Dr DeathDefying isn't exactly FDA-approved either, so I wouldn't try that at home.
Oh, and for those who were expecting the 'patient' to bounce back to life instantly - Tarantino didn't get it exactly right, either. Artistic freedom ftw. ;)
Quotes at the beginning are taken from Twitter, with mild cleanups to please the eye.
June 16, 2016, 5 pm
Desert hideout
Dr DeathDefying
smauilein: How did you save PartyPoison's life?
DrDeathDefying: An adrenaline shot, pot of coffee, and two aspirin. Chase with saltwater taffy.
" until we meet on air, zonehoppers. Stay safe this stormy night."
I switched the microphone off and let the channel be filled with a random selection of the "vanilla" playlist, one played when no particular message had to be sent. My approach to broadcasting was similar to my policy in terms of 'my' diner a station regularly broadcasting mostly music would draw less attention than a frequency of static interrupted only by messages. The mentioned time and weather would also help throw any curious people off my track. Good luck searching for me somewhere dark and stormy, my dears. It's a dead still and eight in the evening here.
My chuckle lost a bit of mirth when I drove to the next room and found that the kid from the other day showed no improvement. No signs of life apart from slow breathing. Too slow, definitely.
Well, what else did I expect to see, after all? A mind burn this size was a death sentence stretched out in time, after all, and the only real reason to bring the boy to my house was my belief that he deserved better than to die alone in a filthy bathroom. What I could offer him was only marginally better, of course, but just a bit more dignified, maybe. If one cared about this sort of thing.
I put my finger to his neck again. The pulse was there, just as weak or weaker than before. It wouldn't be long now. It wasn't even the pulse that told me that, but the fact that this was the first time he didn't wince in his faint. Even though the red marks on his neck felt hot to my fingers even before actual contact.
I tapped my chin. One day he'd been here. Another day, at most, was what I'd give him. I couldn't help but sigh, shaking my head in annoyance. If only I had gotten to him just after he'd been burned, when he was still conscious enough to listen. It wouldn't be the first time I thought this when looking at a victim like this. Some may call it murder, some may call it manipulation into suicide. I called it a show what a concept of mind over matter could do in the hands of a right bastard. But whatever I called it, all those poor sods died without realizing what was done to them.
Turning my head to a bit of cracked mirror stuck to the wall, I stretched my lips in a semblance of a smile. It felt pretty monstrous to see myself grinning like a moron sitting next to this dying kid, but it was a time-tested method to stave off despair. I wouldn't have gotten far, least of all in a wheelchair, if I went around giving in to it or its relatives. Now, was that mind over matter or the other way around? Who cared? It worked, to an extent.
Hmm. I looked at the boy again, struck with a sudden idea. His mind would have to do the fighting back, sure, but it was the body that wouldn't let anyone get to it now. I couldn't save him, but one chance, that I could try to give him. It could just work, and it beat doing nothing, at any rate. In my experience, about anything at all beat doing nothing.
I pulled out a metal box containing my extended medical kit from under the bed and rummaged around for an adrenaline shot. It might just jump-start the boy's failing heart enough for him to wake up. Some consciousness was all I needed to tell him what was really happening to him, and let him decide where to go from there. Let him know that it was still up to him, really. A shot of truth to combat Korse's lie that ran his system now.
The shot done, I wheeled out of the room. His fate now in no way depended on whether I sat next to the bed. Instead, I set a pot of coffee to brew. If he woke up, he'd need every stimulant I could lay my hands on. If he didn't, it would still come in handy.
The coffee stood ready and I sat sorting through a transcript of an encoded frequency when a crash came from the next room, followed by a vague exclamation. A sound of scrambling, a series of smaller crashes, a curse. I headed towards the source of all these sounds, grinning quite genuinely now.
I arrived to find the boy on his feet, his back turned to the door, twisting his head this way and that while frantically patting every piece of his clothing that contained pockets. No doubt looking for his raygun, which was currently in a holster at the side of my chair and a mystery in and of itself. Hopefully, he'd get talkative enough to maybe explain how he got to keep his weapon after a meeting with Korse's gang. That was a medium-term plan, of course. The immediate concern was to stop him panicking and, more importantly, moving. He didn't yet know he had no time or energy to waste.
Which was why I cleared my throat loudly, causing the kid to spin around and freeze. The latter likely had to do with the raygun in my hand. Especially since it was pointed at him.
He stood stock still. The way his eyes darted around confirmed my earlier suspicion. This boy was no warrior. His reactions were quick, but he had no idea how to assess a situation with one glance. I let him study me some more quietly, practically seeing the gears turn behind his eyes as he wondered what to do. Finally, he settled for one of the two questions I expected to hear.
"Who are you?"
"I'm a friend," I replied in a neutral tone. He smiled a toothy half-smile, shaking his head jerkily.
"You don't look like any of my friends."
"That's because I'm your newest friend. Not to toot my own horn, but I saved your life for now, anyway so that should be enough to put me on your good side."
"That thing you're pointing at me doesn't," he retorted quite reasonably. Nodding agreement, I lowered the gun.
"That thing was just to stop you thrashing before you hurt yourself. It's yours, anyway. There you go." I handed the raygun to him, holding it by the barrel. He took a wary step towards me, then snatched the weapon and stepped back in one lightning-quick move, sticking the gun in the holster on his hip. I found myself unexpectedly impressed. Adrenaline or not, the boy was quick. If he lived long enough to tell his story, it could turn out to be an interesting one.
"Now you'd better sit down. And if the reason you opened your mouth is to tell me you feel fine, don't worry, it'll pass. Give it half an hour, and you'll be the same nearly lifeless husk I found you as. Unless you spend that half hour listening to me, of course."
"Am I dying?" he asked in a strange voice that sounded as if he weren't sure whether to feel afraid or relieved by the news.
"Pretty much. You're on a bit of borrowed time now. But I can tell you how you could keep it, if you're interested."
"So how'd I go about that?"
"For starters, we're going to have coffee," I replied and went to fetch the pot, chuckling at his confusion at an answer he obviously hadn't expected.
Title: Dangerverse Chronicles
Author: transnoctem
Rating: PG-13
POV (this chapter): DrDeathDefying
Disclaimer: This is a fanfic. I own nothing apart from OCs, who will be announced separately. The characters belong to MCR, and so does the world.
Summary: A collection of stories from the Dangerverse, told over a period of time and from a variety of POVs.
A/N:
re: Adrenaline shot: this is fanfiction, not a medicine handbook, and any research done on injections of adrenaline is courtesy google. I was purposefully vague on the administration thereof. For what it's worth, the combination of 'medications' given by Dr DeathDefying isn't exactly FDA-approved either, so I wouldn't try that at home.
Oh, and for those who were expecting the 'patient' to bounce back to life instantly - Tarantino didn't get it exactly right, either. Artistic freedom ftw. ;)
Quotes at the beginning are taken from Twitter, with mild cleanups to please the eye.
June 16, 2016, 5 pm
Desert hideout
Dr DeathDefying
smauilein: How did you save PartyPoison's life?
DrDeathDefying: An adrenaline shot, pot of coffee, and two aspirin. Chase with saltwater taffy.
" until we meet on air, zonehoppers. Stay safe this stormy night."
I switched the microphone off and let the channel be filled with a random selection of the "vanilla" playlist, one played when no particular message had to be sent. My approach to broadcasting was similar to my policy in terms of 'my' diner a station regularly broadcasting mostly music would draw less attention than a frequency of static interrupted only by messages. The mentioned time and weather would also help throw any curious people off my track. Good luck searching for me somewhere dark and stormy, my dears. It's a dead still and eight in the evening here.
My chuckle lost a bit of mirth when I drove to the next room and found that the kid from the other day showed no improvement. No signs of life apart from slow breathing. Too slow, definitely.
Well, what else did I expect to see, after all? A mind burn this size was a death sentence stretched out in time, after all, and the only real reason to bring the boy to my house was my belief that he deserved better than to die alone in a filthy bathroom. What I could offer him was only marginally better, of course, but just a bit more dignified, maybe. If one cared about this sort of thing.
I put my finger to his neck again. The pulse was there, just as weak or weaker than before. It wouldn't be long now. It wasn't even the pulse that told me that, but the fact that this was the first time he didn't wince in his faint. Even though the red marks on his neck felt hot to my fingers even before actual contact.
I tapped my chin. One day he'd been here. Another day, at most, was what I'd give him. I couldn't help but sigh, shaking my head in annoyance. If only I had gotten to him just after he'd been burned, when he was still conscious enough to listen. It wouldn't be the first time I thought this when looking at a victim like this. Some may call it murder, some may call it manipulation into suicide. I called it a show what a concept of mind over matter could do in the hands of a right bastard. But whatever I called it, all those poor sods died without realizing what was done to them.
Turning my head to a bit of cracked mirror stuck to the wall, I stretched my lips in a semblance of a smile. It felt pretty monstrous to see myself grinning like a moron sitting next to this dying kid, but it was a time-tested method to stave off despair. I wouldn't have gotten far, least of all in a wheelchair, if I went around giving in to it or its relatives. Now, was that mind over matter or the other way around? Who cared? It worked, to an extent.
Hmm. I looked at the boy again, struck with a sudden idea. His mind would have to do the fighting back, sure, but it was the body that wouldn't let anyone get to it now. I couldn't save him, but one chance, that I could try to give him. It could just work, and it beat doing nothing, at any rate. In my experience, about anything at all beat doing nothing.
I pulled out a metal box containing my extended medical kit from under the bed and rummaged around for an adrenaline shot. It might just jump-start the boy's failing heart enough for him to wake up. Some consciousness was all I needed to tell him what was really happening to him, and let him decide where to go from there. Let him know that it was still up to him, really. A shot of truth to combat Korse's lie that ran his system now.
The shot done, I wheeled out of the room. His fate now in no way depended on whether I sat next to the bed. Instead, I set a pot of coffee to brew. If he woke up, he'd need every stimulant I could lay my hands on. If he didn't, it would still come in handy.
The coffee stood ready and I sat sorting through a transcript of an encoded frequency when a crash came from the next room, followed by a vague exclamation. A sound of scrambling, a series of smaller crashes, a curse. I headed towards the source of all these sounds, grinning quite genuinely now.
I arrived to find the boy on his feet, his back turned to the door, twisting his head this way and that while frantically patting every piece of his clothing that contained pockets. No doubt looking for his raygun, which was currently in a holster at the side of my chair and a mystery in and of itself. Hopefully, he'd get talkative enough to maybe explain how he got to keep his weapon after a meeting with Korse's gang. That was a medium-term plan, of course. The immediate concern was to stop him panicking and, more importantly, moving. He didn't yet know he had no time or energy to waste.
Which was why I cleared my throat loudly, causing the kid to spin around and freeze. The latter likely had to do with the raygun in my hand. Especially since it was pointed at him.
He stood stock still. The way his eyes darted around confirmed my earlier suspicion. This boy was no warrior. His reactions were quick, but he had no idea how to assess a situation with one glance. I let him study me some more quietly, practically seeing the gears turn behind his eyes as he wondered what to do. Finally, he settled for one of the two questions I expected to hear.
"Who are you?"
"I'm a friend," I replied in a neutral tone. He smiled a toothy half-smile, shaking his head jerkily.
"You don't look like any of my friends."
"That's because I'm your newest friend. Not to toot my own horn, but I saved your life for now, anyway so that should be enough to put me on your good side."
"That thing you're pointing at me doesn't," he retorted quite reasonably. Nodding agreement, I lowered the gun.
"That thing was just to stop you thrashing before you hurt yourself. It's yours, anyway. There you go." I handed the raygun to him, holding it by the barrel. He took a wary step towards me, then snatched the weapon and stepped back in one lightning-quick move, sticking the gun in the holster on his hip. I found myself unexpectedly impressed. Adrenaline or not, the boy was quick. If he lived long enough to tell his story, it could turn out to be an interesting one.
"Now you'd better sit down. And if the reason you opened your mouth is to tell me you feel fine, don't worry, it'll pass. Give it half an hour, and you'll be the same nearly lifeless husk I found you as. Unless you spend that half hour listening to me, of course."
"Am I dying?" he asked in a strange voice that sounded as if he weren't sure whether to feel afraid or relieved by the news.
"Pretty much. You're on a bit of borrowed time now. But I can tell you how you could keep it, if you're interested."
"So how'd I go about that?"
"For starters, we're going to have coffee," I replied and went to fetch the pot, chuckling at his confusion at an answer he obviously hadn't expected.