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"Hey, Conner I brought you co─" Dianna's steps came to a stop when she noticed the scene before her. Everyone glanced away from Hank for a split second. Her eyes landed on the obvious wound in his chest. The mug slipped from her hands and crashed onto the floor. "What the fuck happened to you?"
Artemisia stepped away from the man, cleaning up the spill with a swish of her wrist. Only the chunks of ceramic remained. "Jason happened. Clean that up, please."
Dianna lowered into her knees, brows knitted closer. Piece by piece, she picked the broken mug. Her gaze continued to perk up, trying to check on Hank's situation. "How did it happen?"
"He called me. Said he needed help. I fell for it. Now we're here." Hank grunted as the team struggled to drag his body into the med bay.
"You went to talk to Jason by yourself?" Dawn scolded, pushing past the struggling group to prepare the stretcher.
Conner took hold of the man, guiding his body onto the stretcher, then plopping him down. Everyone halted for a moment, glaring at the teen. Hank, however, did not stop, not even through the pain. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. More interesting than other conversations. Sorry, Temi."
"I'm trying not to take it personally. I'll hold it back until we solve this." Artemisia scoffed, walking up to the med bay. She stayed a few steps back, feeling useless in the field.
The man chuckled. His muscles tensed and he drew in a sharp breath. The brave facade faltered. He leaned back on the stretcher, gritting his teeth. "Just give me a shot of whiskey and get this damn thing out."
"We can't just pull it out. There's visible blood around the insertion wound. And it's over the heart." Marge pushed through the curious circle, swabbing the wound clean. Hank blinked at her. "You'll bleed to death before I can even finish taking it off."
"Conner, take a look inside, tell us what we're dealing with," Dick ordered as his arms folded over his chest.
The boy activated his x-ray vision, squinting his eyes to behold a sight only he and Superman could witness. He seemed excited about the experience, too. A grin spread across his face. "Wow. This is pretty bitching."
"Conner!"
His grin dropped. Conner cleared his throat and inspected the device. Artemisia leaned closer, trying to read the small twitches of his forehead. "It has anti-retraction barbs that hold the device in place. Looks like it's embedded in the pectoralis major, right through the aortic arch."
"You're screwed. Just like I said," Marge commented. No one said anything. It sounded pretty bad. Hank gulped loudly.
"The engineering is incredibly nuanced. The bomb's designed to tolerate insertion, not retraction. These barbs in Hank's chest, they have sensors. If those sensors detect too much force, it'll explode." Conner had taken the time to sketch what he was seeing ( it took him five seconds to make a detailed illustration ).
