Through the Dragon's Eyes

Chapter Nine || Ad Hominem

You wake to a chill against your back, and rumbling surroundings. Vision remaining dark, body staying still, you listen. There's whispering not far from you. Trying to make out what's being said is difficult, especially as pain begins to try and drag your attention away. Your head reels, making you feel as if your body is going to sink into the surface beneath you. A pained groan passes your lips. The whispering stops.

Footsteps approach, stopping on your right. You can feel their presence, yet they're uncomfortably silent. Breathing through the nausea your spinning mind is causing, you weakly open your eyes. Glancing over, it takes a moment for your sight to remedy of any blur, revealing who is standing prim at your side. Her gaunt features study your own, seemingly uncaring about the discomfort you're in. Her two toned gaze drags away with the rest of her as she walks off. Moments later, the metal table you're laid upon begins to fold upwards, rising you to a more sitting position.

"Took quite a fall, did you, Shimada?" She asks, her tone almost mocking.

You don't reply, just turning your head to face straight and continuing to breathe as the nausea slowly begins to fade. In your right arm is an IV, leading up to a bag that's hanging off the hook of a larger medical apparatus on wheels by the table. It seems rather primitive compared to what you know this medic is capable of. Why hasn't she just patched you up completely already, you wonder. Moira. What could she be thinking? What could she be doing? Knowing her history, you feel you've every right to question anything she does, no matter how little.

You're unsure how long it's been since you were knocked out, nor how long you've been in transit before you awoke. You want so greatly to get away from the current situation due to the discomfort of the other's presence. Plus, you don't want her to take care of something you know how to deal with yourself. This is ridiculous. It's wasting your time.

Beginning to turn to face your back to the scientist, you slide your legs off the side, feet touching the floor. Bare skin presses against cold steel, causing a shiver. The chill paired with the refrigerated contents of the liquid drip tethered directly into your vein is an unpleasant feeling.

"I would not recommend that." Moira says.

You ignore her. Gently pushing your weak body off the table's edge, you go to stand. The dizziness returns tenfold and gravity shifts. You stumble, tumbling down onto your knees with one hand hitting the table to try to catch yourself on the way down, causing the IV apparatus to clang against the other side as it wheels along with your fall.

This surprises you.

Sure, you took quite a bit of damage, yet you've walked away from things like this with at least some, if not most of your strength left before. Now, you feel as if it's been drained from you. Syphoned. Muscles like that of a newborn, you're unable to lift yourself back up onto the table, simply sitting on the ground with your hand still gripping the tables edge, confusion and frustration constricting your features.

"If you wish to be stupid, so be it. Just know that will delay the process." Moira sighs, walking around the table to stand in front of you.

Bending down to assess the bandage on your chest, she begins to remove it, pushing aside your opened shirt for easier access. Without the strength to lift your arm to keep hers away, you can do nothing but wait for her to finish. Once the bandage is removed, she hums to herself.

"Facinating." She mumbles.

That's... worrying.

Straightening back up, she walks back around to where she was before. The scribble of a pen can be heard behind you. Once again, you remain stagnant, still upon your knees on the cold metal floor. There's several minutes of scribbling, button beeping, pacing and more, yet you pay it no mind, simply staring at the ground with exhaustion.