When Arthur woke up again, he wasn't in that little electrical shed. He couldn't quite make out where he was though not with the bright light in his face, filling every nook and cranny of his vision, worming under his eyelids.
Was he in Heaven? Did he succumb to blood loss?
The silhouette of a hand shoved the light away, leaving Arthur face to face with something that looked to be a person. He couldn't tell, mostly because he was only catching glimpses of that face-shaped blob in between each frantic blink.
"Mister Langdon, you doin' alright there man?"
Everything was becoming more defined again, not so hypersaturated as it was before. The blob was no longer a blob- in fact, it was a smiling, gap-toothed man, who seemed a bit too happy to see Arthur. Only now did he realise he was laying on one sort of table, and not his own coffin, or something equally as morbid.
"Who in the-"
"Calm your face now- well, what's left of it. Nasty ting you did to it, huh. Musta been a long day for you."
Arthur rubbed his eyes, for what felt like the first time in months. Hie face didn't burn where he touched it- strange, in fact, it only felt sore. Like he hadn't moved it in some time. He could only really liken it to pins and needles, but colder and
more intrusive.
"I passed out before things could get too long, unfortunately."
"Did ye now? Right aftuh trying to lock yourself in a shed, with that little belt?"
"Yes, I did. What happened to it?"
"Ripped it trying to open the door. You left the lights on, so I thought I should see what was going down in there. Apart from your face."
"Uh-huh. You gonna keep talking about my face?"
"Well I fixed it, din't I?"
"Did you?"
"Pfft, fix your face, hah. You tell me- check yerself out in that mirror, on the way out the room. " "What, want me to see if I'm the fairest of them all or something?" "That's the idea."
Arthur scowled, sitting up on the table. It was a big laminated wooden thing, perfectly in line with the sheer normalness of the room. It must have been some kind of kitchen, before Arthur's new friend had turned it into
make-shift clinic. He had a feeling the skeleton in the corner was not purely for reference, nor was it made of plastic.
In fact, it seemed to glower at Arthur, its jaw hanging slightly, almost as if it had opened its mouth to laugh at him but thought better of it.
When he crossed the room, he could see why.
in that full body-length mirror, a bloody mess stared back at Arthur. His suit was ruined, torn to shreds in some places. Most of it was soaked in red, ruining anything that wasn't black on his outfit- there went his shirt, tie and waistcoat. Perhaps what was more depressing to look at was his face. He looked like Frankenstein, for god's sake.
It was in one piece, though. Most of it.
"Trust me man, your chin was beyond saving. had to place that metal fixture therw otherwise the stitches wouldn't be holding well."
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Arthur only nodded, absentmindedly poking and feeling at his face. it used to be smooth. So, so smooth. Now it was all stitched, all over- bumpy, messy, almost ghoulish.
"I'm surprised the whole thing wasn't beyond saving."
"I'm as shocked as you are, man. I wasn't expecting you to wake up.
"Neither wae I, quite frankly."
Arthur gave that metal fixture one last poke- a relatively thick sheet of metal, -bbaly only a centimeter or so- nestled underneath his bottom lip. With a slight theatrical sigh, he then plonked himself back on that sad looking IKEA table.
"So. How much do I owe you?"
"Some of that company tech might be nice."
Upon seeing the expression of absolute indignation on Arthur's face, the guy's grin faltered slightly.
"Uhhh.. forget I said that. Name's Doc Mercy by the way."
"Doc, or doctor?"
"Don't got no fancy medical licence."
Arthur couldn't believe his hears. This had to be some sort of joke, right?
"No medical license? No medical experience at all?"
"No-sir. I did work as a midwife, though."
"That doesn't make things any better, you know."
Perhaps that was too harsh, too snappy on Arthur's part. But who else could he blame for this? For looking like something ripped straight out of an old slasher flick. Texas Chainsaw Massacre came to mind, and he hated it. Mercy Just raised his eyebrow, looking down to fiddle with his scrubs- which he wore underneath some sort of vest. It probably wasn't bulletproof. Likely one of the stab-proof ones police officers walked about in.
"Well.. uhh. Ain't really much of a thank you, is it?"
"No. I could have done better with a staple gun."
"Rude."
"But true. Where's the exit?"
"Oh, you wouldn't wanna be headin' out just now."
Arthur's hands made their way to his suit pocket. He was fuming now, very much. Instead of red, all he could see was that reflection. His hand, the right, tightened its grip on his pistol- one of his very own making. The Dart MK2, a light-weight and accurate beauty chambered in 9 millimetre, made with the express intent of placing anyone who comes into contact with the wielder in a world of pain. He didn't turn off the safety just yet. His finger was off the trigger, for now.
"And why is that, doc?"
"Blighters are gunna be out and about this time of night. And you need some time to recover."
"I can do that in my own time, thank you."
"You can't just postpone post-op recovery, bad."
"Watch me, I'll do it just despite you. After all, you aren't even a real doctor."
"I'm a good a doctor as you are a patient."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Stick around and you might just find out."
Arthur relented, taking his empty hands out of his pockets with a theatrical sigh. "Fine, I suppose you win. I'll stay as long as needed."
"Well, ain't that awfully courteous of you."
No need to thank me, I already know." A smug, but good-humoured smile from Arthur to which Mercy gleefully reciprocated.
Y'know, for a greedy tech businessguy, you're somethin' of a gentleman, aren't ye Mr. Langdon?"
"I have to be something, if not smart, don't I?"
"Guess yer right. Stay put, and I'll get some soup on for you. Hope you like crow!"