[Grunt. Volgin shook his head, pausing his step as Raikov placed himself in his way.]
It's nothing. It's been several hours and I'm not dead yet. I'll survive this...
[Humiliated and beaten down by his enemies in a span of hours and now missing an eye. Hardly nothing, but simpering over it was not going to get him anywhere either. His remaining eye snapped about the hall, searching.
Snake had only one eye, and still he bested him...]
Just get me a kit, and we'll talk. [He eyed the missing hand.] Better me than you.
Where do you expect me to find one? We'll either have to go back to my apartment or to the doctor anyway, so let's just cut out the middle man!
[Ivan looked worried, brow creased and lips curved into a frown. It definitely wasn't a look for such a pretty face--or so he would probably muse to himself.]
What if the doctors are on their side? What would you like them to do? Finish me off?
[Volgin took off, scouring the walls for something to clean the crust of blood and fluids that have hardened on the side of his face, giving him the look of being mutilated on both sides. He could feel the crust pull at his skin as he spoke.
He was never meant for any other surgeon's table other than the one that created him in the first place, and they were gone. His trained personnel he had hired from his limitless funding were the same way. He did not trust the medical personnel here.]
Ah, see?
[Volgin tore at a first aid kit nestled into a nook, then turned to a random door.]
[And Volgin ducked into the room, hit by the smell of... livestock. The lights were warmly lit overhead, the walls of this curiously large room the brown comfort of wood. The Soviet found himself surrounded by animals, and nearly, as he dodged the round beasts curiously eying him, stepped into a pile of fresh goat dung. A large, spotted goat with long, curving horns and an even longer coat, resembling more a mop head, bleeted indignantly as his knee knocked into its cushioned side.
Volgin gave Raikov a look, before stepping over a fence to duck behind a pair of llamas, still chewing with calm indifference. He set the kit on the dirt floor and opened it.]
Comments 101
It's nothing. It's been several hours and I'm not dead yet. I'll survive this...
[Humiliated and beaten down by his enemies in a span of hours and now missing an eye. Hardly nothing, but simpering over it was not going to get him anywhere either. His remaining eye snapped about the hall, searching.
Snake had only one eye, and still he bested him...]
Just get me a kit, and we'll talk. [He eyed the missing hand.] Better me than you.
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[Ivan looked worried, brow creased and lips curved into a frown. It definitely wasn't a look for such a pretty face--or so he would probably muse to himself.]
Better somebody else than either of us.
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[Volgin took off, scouring the walls for something to clean the crust of blood and fluids that have hardened on the side of his face, giving him the look of being mutilated on both sides. He could feel the crust pull at his skin as he spoke.
He was never meant for any other surgeon's table other than the one that created him in the first place, and they were gone. His trained personnel he had hired from his limitless funding were the same way. He did not trust the medical personnel here.]
Ah, see?
[Volgin tore at a first aid kit nestled into a nook, then turned to a random door.]
Come on.
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[Seems Volgin had done the impossible, and actually found something he was looking for.]
Nothing more than blind luck. Fine.
[Relenting, Ivan followed Volgin where ever he wanted to take him.]
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Volgin gave Raikov a look, before stepping over a fence to duck behind a pair of llamas, still chewing with calm indifference. He set the kit on the dirt floor and opened it.]
Reply
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