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Post by Countess on Oct 5, 2024 18:06:40 GMT
God, Barbara really fucked up this time. Bruce had always told her a fight she can walk away from is one she won, no matter what. She wonders if crawling is an acceptable means of getting away, too.
The fight had been long, hard, and more than she could handle. She had made mistakes, costly ones. Babs removes the hand she has on her abdomen, the neon lights around her making her blood soaked palm appear far worse than it is. Well, she hopes it is making it look worse than it is. This is the first time in a long time she has had her ass so thoroughly handed to her. In a lot of ways, she had forgotten what it was like. No- forgotten is the wrong word. Blocked out seems better, making sure to look at it in a romantic light. She hasn't felt this helpless since-
No. Don't go there, Barbara. If you do, you won't get out. Not now. Not ever.
So, she focuses on moving. If she can get to a telepad, she can get to her home. If she can get to her home, she can patch herself up. Damian... she isn't sure how Damian is going to react. Lying to him, hiding this, it isn't an option. She is too hurt, for one, and for another... she doesn't want to set that precedent. He needs to know he can ask her for help, just like she asks him for help. If she could she would be calling him now...
The ear piece is broken in her pocket, from a really nasty hit to the ear. Even now, as she grimaces from the pain, she can feel bits and pieces of it lodged into her skin and inner ear. That is not going to be fun to extract.
Step... by step... she moves through the alleyways of New York City. No one is bothering her. She has put on a black hoodie to cover up most of her improvised costume. She's in all black, every inch of her skin covered in one way or another, not a bat insignia in sight. Probably for the best... Last thing she wants is to be why the Bats aren't taken seriously in New York. She also doesn't want news of another Batgirl going around the city. Not yet, at least.
"Fuck," Barbara curses. She moved wrong- that is definitely a broken rib or four. Tears fill her eyes, not from the pain, but the shame. She has work, school, the Justice League... She can't hide what she is doing from them, not looking like this. They might bench her. They might look at her with those damn pitying eyes. That was the worst of it, she thinks, other than the horrific act itself. Just how everyone treated her after... She can't go back to that. Not again, not when she has finally clawed her way out of that damn hole...
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Post by darkkon on Oct 6, 2024 0:58:05 GMT
Empire City, The City of Dreams, The City That Never Sleeps, The Big Apple. So many names, so many brochures; New York City. In many ways it was much like Tokyo and Shanghai, a sprawling cityscape beautifully lit with a lively nightlife, but there was something more to it. Something distinctly New York. So many cultures on display for all to enjoy, even an authentic taste of Nihon to soothe a young homesick woman. While much of what she wanted to do would have to wait for day, she was perfectly happy wandering the neon lit streets and enjoying the sights. Though, for whatever reason, the neon signs did seem to be getting rather salacious in this direction.
- “Fuck” - A pained echo from the alleyway to the her left, almost too faint to hear. Halting in her tracks, concern drew the young woman's attention. In the distance a figure, black, a shadow against the sparse lighting within and neon signage afar. Hobbling, heavily. On the ground near the entryway, spattering of a dark liquid. Blood? Blood, not good. Without hesitation, the young woman jogged into the alleyway. ”ください- Please wait!” ((Kudasai - Please)) She’d shout ahead to the shadowy figure, a voice youthful, feminine, and full of concern; correcting herself mid sentence. ”I can help!” She’d quickly follow up.
For whatever reason this person seemed to want to avoid being noticed or getting help, unless there was a clinic just around the corner she was unaware of. As much as she wanted to simply rush up and lend a hand, the circumstance called for a little caution. If the figure were to look back for the source of this voice they would find a lithe young woman, no older than twenty five, no taller than five and a half feet, looking to weigh no more than a hundred-twenty pounds with long black hair and pale skin; closing in on them with the swiftness of a professional runner. The bright clothing she wore was a stark contrast to the wounded stranger, garbed in a simple loose fitting long sleeve tee, white as snow; form fitting jeans, sky blue and naturally faded; and a pair of well worn cherry blossom pink and white sneakers.
She would slow as she neared, where a keen eye might spot her distinctly far eastern features in the dim light, as a keen ear might have recognized her linguistic mixup as Japanese. ”I don’t want to get you in trouble.” She’d say, tone sincere and worried, after stopping a few paces from the stranger and taking note of their suspiciously fully blacked out attire. Her hands held out empty in a disarming manner. ”I know how to treat injury, please.” She’d finish, tone almost pleading, her face betraying a great deal of concern, especially for the wound the stranger was clutching their abdomen over.
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Post by Countess on Oct 6, 2024 1:23:25 GMT
Barbara hears the steps before she hears the voice. She tries to meld into the shadows, but she knows when she has been made. Fuck, indeed. Now she has gotten a civvie involved. At least she has gotten away from the danger, so she thinks. It is strange- she can't quite remember who she was fighting. Head injury? Likely. She need to get to the Watchtower, face the music there. Damn, she is going to hate the next few weeks of her life. Funny, the things that cross one's mind when in this state. All she can think of is that wound Flash had... the look Johnny will have when he sees her healing... the disappointment of Bruce... the personal failure of Damian... So many people let down.
[JAP]"I am okay," Barbara lies, her Japanese perfect. [JAP]"Don't get your... shirt stained," she continues, only pausing because she starts to sway a little, her head swimming now. If she wanted to keep this person away from her, she couldn't. Barbara, in her awful state, tries to weigh the options. It doesn't take long. She is going to die without help.
[JAP]"Broken ribs, at least three. Lung pierced. Broken nose. Broken or cracked zygomatic bone, not process. Knife wound to the abdomen, right iliac region. Likely nicked hip, intestines certainly compromised. Multiple cuts but not stabbings to the arms, defensive wounds. Cracked radius, broken fingers in both hands," Barbara says, the technical nature of it soothing her, even in Japanese. The wounds paint a horrible picture.
[JAP]"I am close... to safe house. Medical supplies, SOS, my team," Barbara says.
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Post by darkkon on Oct 6, 2024 18:16:44 GMT
- [Jap]“I am okay, don’t get your... shirt stained.” - A woman, Japanese? Unexpected, but communication would be easier. Providing she stopped trying to downplay her injury. ”お願いします.” (Onegaishimasu - I beg of you) She’d plead once more, taking a step closer. With an abdominal wound like that a sense of stubborn pride or cautious fear could mean death, and it seemed this stranger quickly realized that. - [Jap]”Broken ribs, at least three. Lung pierced. Broken nose. Broken or cracked zygomatic bone, not process. Knife wound to the abdomen, right iliac region. Likely nicked hip, intestines certainly compromised. Multiple cuts but not stabbings to the arms, defensive wounds. Cracked radius, broken fingers in both hands.” -
That is... a lot. Concern deepend towards desperation upon this Samaritan’s face at the mention of both the punctured lung and intestinal compromise. It did not go un-noted that this suspiciously dressed stranger had an almost intimate awareness of her injury, and a physician's anatomical knowledge. Most of what was relayed she understood, and it was pretty easy to guess where the iliac region was in this situation, but she hoped whatever the zygomatic bone was it was not something urgent. - [Jap]”I am close... to safe house. Medical supplies, SOS, my team.” - Team? Safe house? Criminal? No matter, this stranger needed help, and thankfully it looked like her offer was accepted.
”まず腹部.” (Mazu fukubu - First, the abdomen) She would start, tone urgent, effortlessly ripping her left sleeve off at the shoulder with a swift tug as she approached. ”出血を遅らせる必要がある.” (Shukketsu o okuraseru hitsuyō ga aru - The bleeding needs to be slowed) Sleeve loosely bunched in hand, she’d bend low before looking up to the masked face. ”傷を埋めるつもりだ, 傷つきますよ.” (Kizu o umeru tsumorida, kizutsukimasu yo - I’m going to fill the wound, it will hurt) She’d finish with added emphasis, the look upon her face dire. So long as the stranger gave her the go ahead she would swiftly lift their hoody with her free hand to get at the wound, pulling their hand out of the way in the process, then stuff.
At this, if this suspiciously garbed woman could process through the pain of fingers plunging wadded cloth into her gut, the stranger would feel something rather odd. Warmth, and an almost effervescent tingling around her abdominal wound. A spell, simple purification, to cleanse the wound of any infectious agents.
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Post by Countess on Oct 6, 2024 19:21:33 GMT
Barbara [JAP]"I'm..." she starts, then trails off. What is she going to call herself? She doesn't dare use Batgirl, not with Cass running around under that name. Oracle? It isn't well known, but she wants it to stay that way. Better than Batgirl. [JAP]"... Oracle," she finally says, taking shallow breaths because of her ribs and lung. If she isn't careful, it will collapse. [JAP]"Do you have a name?" she asks, knowing she might want to hide her identity, too.
Barbara nods when she mentions her knife wound. It is not lost on her that this woman is doing whatever means necessary to help her, even tearing up her own clothing. It is what Babs would do in this situation. It makes her feel better, like she is in safe hands. [JAP]"I can take it," Barbara says, lifting up her hand to carefully take off a glove. It jostles her broken fingers, but she needs the glove more. The bloody fabric gets bunched up, then put in her mouth to bite down onto. She nods, signaling her good Samaritan she's ready for it. The glove swallows her low groan as her wound is stuffed. She doesn't react as much as she wants to, wanting to save herself the pain of her broken ribs. If she tenses too much, it will be far, far worse.
Babs' eyes widen. She knows that feeling, she would know it anywhere. Magic? Like that one guy that had come for Spellbinder?
The glove gets spit out. [JAP]"Mage?" she asks. [JAP]"Do you know Doctor Strange? Constantine? Zatanna?" she asks, naming off friends. Well- sort of friends. They might buy her some goodwill here.
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Post by darkkon on Oct 7, 2024 20:17:58 GMT
- [Jap]”I’m... Oracle.” - A long pause, dizziness? Consideration, perhaps. The name Oracle seemed... out of place? Perhaps a spy? An issue for later, if those shallow breaths were any indication her punctured lung will need to be the first thing they deal with after they get to her safe house. - [Jap]”Do you have a name?” - ”淳.” (Jun) She’d answer honestly, trying to muster a friendly smile through the worry painted across her face. - [Jap]”I can take it.” - Jun nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for Oracle to carefully remove the glove of her free hand for something to bite down on. Then, with her signal, went to work.
Though her focus was on careful wound packing, Jun would note something. The distinct absence of reeling. Whoever this Oracle is, pain was not a stranger to her. A spitting of the glove before she had quite finished did catch her attention, however, and she tried to remove her fingers from the final stuffing as carefully as possible. - [Jap]”Mage? Do you know Doctor Strange? Constantine? Zatanna?” - Jun’s eyes widened a bit in surprise, her gaze shooting up to meet Oracles. She could tell? That is... unexpected. ”ドクター・ストレンジ, だけで名前.” (Dokutā Sutorenji, dake de namae - Doctor Strange, only by name) She’d answer truthfully, tone surprised. The others she did not know, were they part of the New York Sanctum?
”急がなきゃ.” (Isoganakya - We need to hurry) She’d start, tone urgent, returning her attention to the issue at hand. ”あなたの安全な家, どこですか?” (Anata no anzen'na ie, dokodesu ka? - Your safe house, where is it?) A faint glow would emanate from over her abdominal wound, a barrier of sunlit warmth, comforting in sensation, to keep pressure so their hands could be free. At the same time, Jun would move to position herself along Oracles right flank. Preparation not for a human crutch, but a cradle carry. ”こうすればもっと早くなる, 私を信じて.” (Kō sureba motto hayaku naru, watashi o shinjite - This will be faster, trust me) Hopefully, Oracle would accept her offer, and if she did she would be cradled by arms that showed no strain despite Jun’s meager frame.
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Post by Countess on Oct 9, 2024 22:40:32 GMT
Damn. She had hoped... [JAP]"I worked with Doctor Strange," she says. It isn't a lie- this girl doesn't need to know right now about the schism between Doctor Fate and Doctor Strange. Thinking about it like that almost makes her laugh. They were born to be at odds, with names like those. [JAP]"Good man, better mage," she says, and finds herself needing to stop for a moment. Talking is difficult, taking more from her than it should. That is not a good sign. She powers through anyways. She has to keep talking, though, no matter how hard it is. It keeps her in the here and now, not going after that light in the not so far away distance. How many times had she coach others to do the same, just keep talking, just keep being here? Anything to save another soul, anything to keep it all here, all alive. [JAP]"Been healed before. Some guy- don't know his name," she says, thinking on the strange man that had allowed her to walk again. He was covered in tattoos, hair slicked back like he had walked out of time. Strange turn of phrase, too. She owes him everything, and he had just... done finger guns and said it was on the house.
[JAP]"Then we hurry," Barbara says, feeling just how bad it all is, too. She cannot imagine how shit she looks. This is easily one of the top ten thrashing in her book, and she can't even remember it happening. No- she can- she just can't remember who. That makes no sense. She should have seen something, and Barbara simply doesn't forget...
Barbara lets the young woman carry her, hissing a little in pain at the lift. It jostles things better left unjostled. "Down the alley... really close," she says, switching to English. She cannot focus enough for Japanese anymore. That is a really, really bad sign. "Magic, the door will open for me," she continues. She really had been close- but she would not have made it on her own. Even if she did, she can barely move. The only way she could get help is if someone stumbled on her. A bit of a ways down the alley, there is a bit of wall that starts to shift as they pass it. Magic, indeed, the bricks shift away like the place is Diagon Alley, revealing an arched entryway.
The interior is very, very clearly Justice League affiliated. There is a logo emblazoned on the wall across from them as they enter. "Medical... supplies," Barbara says, weakly lifting a hand to point over to another archway. It seems this place is a pitstop more than anything. Cots, chairs, supplies, a teleportation circle. It isn't big, and it is very quiet. No one is here, save for them.
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Post by darkkon on Oct 10, 2024 6:41:41 GMT
- [Jap]”I worked with Doctor Strange. Good man, better mage.” - She worked with the Sorcerer Supreme? That was rather hard to believe at the moment, considering she was dressed like she’d just fled a horribly botched robbery. But, she knew she was using magic, was she trying to... Not now, that’s an issue for later. - [Jap]”Been healed before. Some guy- don’t know his name.” - That explains how she could tell. What Jun wouldn’t give for the expertise of the clerics at home right now. For this Oracle's sake, they really needed to hurry.
- [Jap]”Then we hurry.” - With as much care as she can, Jun scoops Oracle into her arms, the woman's soft pained breath eliciting an involuntary wince of sympathy. - ”Down the alley... really close. Magic, the door will open for me.” - Back to English, her tone... she was in dire straits. A dull glow emanating from below, warm like the small barrier keeping pressure on her abdomen, the two would be carried forth on discs of light. Jun did not want to risk agitating her wounds with the jostle of a run. Hopefully this door would be easy to spo... Movement, bricks shifting to reveal an archway. Yep, that’s definitely it.
Inside, sleek, very modern. A large styled JL upon the wall opposite the entrance, familiar... ”Justice League...” A whisper of realization, surprise flashing across Jun’s face as she recognized the emblem. Maybe she wasn’t... - ”Medical... supplies.” - Jolting back to reality, Jun followed Oracle’s gesture into an adjacent room. Cots, seating, storage, a runed circle? Teleportation circle? And, a notable absence of someone that could help. ”Your team?” Jun would start, tone concerned, as a warmth cradled Oracle from below.
”I will do all I can, but...” Oracle would find herself lifted evenly, hovering upon a bed of translucent sunlight and stretched in careful repose as a cot was pulled towards the supplies, then slowly lowered upon it. ”I... may not be enough.” She’d pause, tone grim with a hint of self doubt, using light to open every cabinet and pull one of every container and object onto the counter, floating them between her and Oracle a few at a time as she searched for what she knew she could use. Much of it was modern and well out of her domain, but splints and stitching material were not.
”I’m from...” Jun would follow up, pausing for a moment as she tried to think of phrasing Oracle might understand in her current state. ”A different time, potions and salves. I can stitch your gut, relieve your lung, but... you need blood.” Jun would finish, stacking a pile of gauze nearby and opening a package of suture material, which would unravel itself and begin to float over Oracle; coated in the same light as before. Throughout this explanation, it would not be hard to see how pale Jun’s face has gotten, the tremble in her hand. Thankfully, she did not need them.
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Post by Countess on Oct 12, 2024 0:51:44 GMT
".... yeah," Barbara answers. She can't hide it at this point. She can still hide this from the Justice, League, though. How many of them actually check the video footage logs? Or the Safe House entries? Barbara is very, very willing to bet none... save for J'onn. She and he can talk, though. He is discrete and understanding. It helps he can just read her mind, and see exactly why she is doing this. She frowns. That might make him more willing to talk to everyone else, she realizes. Not that it matters- she is likely going to die here, judging by her "savior". Funny- all Babs can think about is traumatizing this woman, leaving Dames behind, hurting everyone else... For here, death sounds like... peace. Is that really so bad?
Fuck, maybe she does need therapy.
"Okay, okay," Barbara says gently. A different time? Shit. She did not expect this. There are so many possibly interpretations to this. "I have someone I can call.. phone? There? That?" Barbara says, pointing to a device she hopes this woman out of time can recognize. The phone is for the safe house, a rotating burner. She holds out her hand, waiting for it... Once she has it, Babs dials Damian.
It takes no time for him to answer. [ARB]"My brother... I am in trouble. I need... you to go to the basement," Barbara says upon his answering, speaking in really fantastic Arabic. That might be a surprise to him. [ARB]"Not alone. New person. I... I failed. Basement... Elevator, panel, I programmed you... in. Eye, fingerprint, voice. Say, "For the honor of Grayskull"," Barbara says, th last phrase in English. It had been funny at the time. It still is. She fights the laughter. [ARB]"Need... my blood. Fridge. Surplus. Midtown Safehouse...." she says, the last of her energy getting depleted.
"Help."
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Post by Nomz on Oct 12, 2024 1:34:58 GMT
Damian stares down at the unknown number, answering it with little more than a bored 'hello.' He sits up quickly, pressing his chest to his knees and working on unhooking his legs from the railing. Blood rushes to his head as he listens to his sister over the phone, not interrupting her even as she switches between Arabic and English.
Soft covered feet touch down on the floor as he books it to the door. Damian stops only long enough to grab his uniform jacket and a pair of beat-up vans. [ARB]"Heard. On my way." A pause. [ARB]"I love you. Hold on."
They are the only words he spares for her as he hangs up, and races for the elevator that he never bothered to use. Activating the panel with a roughly spoken, "For the honor of Grayskull." There is no time to be disgruntled over the odd code as the metal doors shut behind him. He tugs his black jacket over a white tank top, tucking his cell phone into a pocket and pulling free his black domino.
Always the perfect soldier, Renegade has all of his emotions on the event stomped down and tucked under his ribs for further examination later. Green eyes cast about the... Oracle Cave, his frown deepening a bit as he moves for a fridge tucked into the corner near what is her medical area. He grabs a few bags, unaware of how much she needs and only knowing how weak she sounded over the line.
Damian turns towards the telepad with a soft sigh, applying his domino with one hand before carding his fingers through damp curls. It is the only indication of his stress before he steps up to the telepad, finally slipping into his vans. He focuses on the Safehouse in Midtown and warily watches the runes light up.
Faster than he cares, Renegade is standing on a matching telepad in the thought of safehouse. His gaze lands on two people. One was in a cot. One was not. Both are unfamiliar, but it is not hard to see that they are in the middle of surgery. Renegade regrets his choice to wear his green soccer shorts, but there is nothing to be done about that.
He approaches the both of them, the bags of blood held in his arms, and calls out. "[ENG]Did one of you just call for help?" Damian tries to ignore the soft, warm feelings the sight seems to stir in his chest as one woman stitches the other back together. It is comforting when he does not wish to be comforted. A ring of hope in the silence.
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Post by darkkon on Oct 12, 2024 7:52:50 GMT
- ”Okay, okay, I have someone I can call.. Phone? There? That?” - Jun follows Oracle’s gesture to a cell phone in a nook along the wall, emergency use presumably. She knew what a phone was, just never used one, hopefully Oracle could in her state. Jun used her light to quickly pull the phone over for Oracle to grab, then went back to prepping while her patient made her call. - [Arb]”My brother... I am in trouble. I need... you to go to the basement. Not alone. New person. I... I failed. Basement... Elevator, panel, I programmed you... in. Eye, fingerprint, voice. Say, [Eng]’For the honor of Grayskull.’ [Arb]Need... my blood. Fridge. Surplus. Midtown Safehouse.... Help.” -
The language Oracle spoke was a new one to Jun, and part of her felt guilty for being able to understand what was likely meant to be a very private conversation. She knew not what this ‘Grayskull’ was, but this woman’s secret was safe with her. With the call over, Jun would hover the phone to the counter next to them, slide Oracle’s shirt most of the way up her midriff with her left hand and pants down over her right hip with her right hand. Overhead a spool of suture material would unravel encased in a warm light, a light that would impart a sense of hope upon her patient even in this dire circumstance despite Jun’s unsteady appearance.
A deep breath, steadying, she needed to be certain of herself for Oracle’s sake. ”I’ve got to go inside to stop the bleeding. I can hold you still if need be.” Jun would start, tone more confident, as a bundle of gauze was folded and stretched before Oracle’s face for her to bite down upon when she was ready. ”I’ll be quick, but the pain may knock you out.” She’d finish, another bundle of gauze unrolling and joining the suture thread hovering above the cot, allowing Oracle enough time to ready herself before setting to work.
True to her word, what came next would happen very quickly, with each moving part happening simultaneously. The light holding pressure on Oracle’s wound would seep down and coat her abdominal wall, then spread the wound wide. The wadded up sleeve that Jun had stuffed in earlier would be pulled clear and fall to the floor next to her. The Gauze would be rolled into a fine point at the end and dipped into the wound like a wick, then warmth would radiate through Oracle’s gut. Jun’s light would essentially pull the pooled blood into the hovering gauze, which was quickly substituted with a second roll once the first had filled and fallen to join her blood soaked sleeve.
Enough blood had been drained to spot the source, her lower intestine half severed in a single spot, and light would coat the edges of the cut to stop the bleeding. While the last of the blood was being drawn from her abdomen the suture thread would weave it’s way into the wound, stitching the intestine closed lead by a sharp point of energy finer and more flexible than any needle available before being cut and knotted. The second roll of bloodied gauze would fall to the floor to join the rest and the stitched intestine would be engulfed in a bright light, purification and restorative energy to help the stitching hold. After ensuring there was no more bleeding, it was time to close the abdominal entry. Throughout all of this, if Oracle moved too much she would find herself held in place by straps of light energy.
A flash, originating from the runed circle nearby, draws Jun’s eye. She expected this woman’s brother, but she did not expect a boy so young. No matter, he had what appeared to be bags of blood with him. - ”Did one of you just call for help?” - Jun would stare blankly at the boy for a moment before motioning to the woman she was presently stitching closed with glowing thread, that seemed like a rather self evident question but considering the time he was probably woken rather abruptly. ”Her lung is collapsing, I need to focus on that. Can you handle her blood?”
Hopefully he knew what to do with them, or Oracle was still capable enough to guide him and tell her which lung was punctured if possible. Jun could improvise, but the more help the better. After stitching the abdominal wound closed and cleansing it with the same magic as she had the intestine Jun would immediately shift to dealing with the punctured lung, as long as nothing happened to shift the course of events. She’d pull Oracle’s shirt up to just under her bust along whichever side she indicated, or both if both lungs were compromised, then offer the wadded bundle of gauze to bite down upon once more.
”Ready yourself.” Jun would warn, primarily to Oracle but also to her little brother, as a needle(s) of light formed aside the ribcage of the affected side(s), then swiftly puncture between her ribs. Once in the chest cavity, they would expand into straws allowing for the pressure to drain and Oracle to breathe far more readily. At this, her chest would be bathed in restorative energy, a dull glow almost like sunlight to bystanders, and stay bathed for the time being. Jun didn’t know if it’d help the lung that had been punctured, but it wouldn’t hurt.
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Post by Countess on Oct 18, 2024 0:57:49 GMT
With the phone call over, Babs sighs in a bit of relief. Dames is coming. Everything will be okay. If she needs more help than these two... he will make sure it gets done. She doesn't really have the best judgement right now. "Be... nice to him. He's rough, but good," Babs says, warning her guardian angel. "He will be cautious with you. I am going to give permission for you to cut away my clothes, even my mask, but I have to say it with him here," she says, fighting another cough. She continues to win, but only by a hair's breadth now. "He won't trust you, he barely trusts me," she says, trying to keep talking so she doesn't just slip away in to that warm, comforting light. It could be easy, letting go. Babs is too stubborn of a woman for that, though. Not when people are trying so hard to keep her here... not when Dames has someone in his corner like her. He's not ready to go back to Gotham...
"I got this," Barbara says, nodding her head weakly. Her mouth opens for the gauze to bite down onto, thankful for it. She steels herself mentally, but nothing can prepare her for this kind of pain. She has been through a lot in her life, but she thinks this moment is among the most physically painful. It is invasive in ways that harken back to a time she wishes she could forget, pulling tears from her eyes as she fights off not only the urge to run, but the memories of that night in Gotham... "Still... here..." Babs says through the pain and the gauze, more for herself than her medic. Light flashes- a picture?- and laughter makes her blood run cold...
"Renegade..." Barbara says after spitting out the bandage in her mouth, lifting a hand to him. She had heard the telepad, waited what she thinks were a few moments, then spoken. Her vision is swimming, and her hand falls limply back down. "Party is all here... did you like my joke?" she asks, grinning even after the gauze in her mouth soaked up whatever moisture there is. Babs indicates to her clean would in her ribcage- Dames would know exactly what this is. She went against someone with a knife, someone damn good. These aren't killing blows- they are to make someone suffer. More than that, she had gone out on her own... wearing what might as well be a track suit compared to the armor she had as Batgirl.
Barbara nods at the question steeling herself again... but this time it is too much, way too much. Her vision swims as the world lurches.
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Post by Nomz on Oct 19, 2024 1:37:27 GMT
Renegade's jaw clenches as he notes that he does not know the voice belonging to the surgeon, which leaves him to believe that the woman on the cot may be Barbara Batgirl. This is proven correct when she reaches out to him with his newly graced name.
Perfect solider.
He crushes down the urge to rush to her side and immediately heads for the medical supplies he will need. In the corner is one of the IV Poles and he reaches for it, rolling it over to where Batgirl lies. The bags are laid on a flat table nearby. Renegade selects one to be hung up before searching for the tubing and needles he'll need. There isn't a second to be wasted.
His fingers are warm when they reach out for Batgirl's limp arm, pulling away her sleeve to make room near the crook of her elbow. The white lenses of his domino give nothing away and even his face is rather blank. It is only the tension in his shoulders that indicates that anything is wrong at all.
"It was hilarious," he lies in that flat tone of his, cleaning her skin with an alcohol-coated cotton ball. Renegade does not know who decided that it was a good day to torture his sister Batgirl to the brink of death, but he is going to fucking find them and he is going to return the favor tenfold.
He has a hundred different questions. He can ask none of them now. Nothing matters more than allowing this magical healer time and silence to heal Batgirl his sister. Damian tapes down the edges of the IV before pulling a stool over to the side of her cot. He clasps one hand around hers and gently reaches for her cheek with the other. His eyes shift to the healer and he asks, "Did you check for head injuries?"
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Post by darkkon on Oct 19, 2024 18:33:11 GMT
- ”Be... nice to him. He’s rough, but good. He will be cautious with you. I am going to give permission for you to cut away my clothes, even my mask, but I have to say it with him here. He won’t trust you, he barely trusts me.” - Jun nodded in acknowledgement, a solemn ‘hm’ escaping her lips. She would not promise, she knew if Oracle lost consciousness before her brother arrived action still had to be taken. - ”I got this.” - And, astoundingly, she did. The restraint, even painted with agony, kept her body still. Truly amazing. - ”Still... here...” - What conditioning has this woman gone through? What pain?
- ”Renegade...” - His alias? Must be. The boy too, the restraint he showed not to rush to his near-death sister's side and instead focus on Oracle’s blood like she asked. - ”Party is all here... did you like my joke?” - ”It was hilarious.” - Joke? Inside joke perhaps. No matter, her attention was better served observing this Renegade as he set up the contraption he hung a bag of Oracle’s blood upon. He looked like he knew what he was doing, and it may be something she needed to do in the future. She could only give him so much attention, however, as dealing with the collapsing lung was first priority.
An incision, clean and precise between her ribs on her left side, the work of a professional and the source of the pressure upon her lung. It wasn’t bleeding profusely, nor was she drowning in blood, it must have missed both artery and organ. Luck or intent? Either way, it made it easier for Jun to line up her needle of light on an equally safe path, then, with a moment for Oracle to prepare, plunge it in. It would shape into a straw, capped with what looked like a lid held shut by spring, as light would spread to cover the rest of the incision. A one way valve, of sorts, to only allow pressure to escape.
Unfortunately, the pain was too much for Oracle this time, and she slipped unconscious. Not good, but not unexpected. Jun reached under her mask and leaned her head close to her patient’s mouth, fingers checking pulse and ear listening to breath. ”Her pulse is weak but stable.” She offered to present company, whatever comfort it might bring, her words accompanied by a hiss of air escaping the magical chest tube. She could breathe free once more. - ”Did you check for head injuries?” -
”That is next in line.” Jun’s gaze shifted to meet his, or his mask covered eyes at least. Was he a fighter? How did that stay on mid fight? ”She wanted to wait for you before I cut her clothes free.” As she continued her gaze would shift back to Oracle, a string of light forming under her partially bunched hoody from mid chest to neckline. Two more strings would form, one from the bunched sleeve on the arm with the blood contraption to the neck and the other from the wrist of her right sleeve up. Starting from the neck out, each would lift and slice, splitting with the fabric like a zipper and gently unfurling it.
The extent of her injury on full display, though her bra would remain intact were she wearing one. Defensive cuts upon her arms, bruising everywhere. Jun’s healing light would envelope each arm, sealing shut the lesser cuts and congealing the deeper, as another string of light formed under Oracle’s mask from neck to crown. ”She has a broken nose, likely more.” The string would lift, unfurling the mask from the neck up. Nose broken, bloodied, cheek severely bruised and swollen.
Carefully stepping over the blood soaked gauze on the floor, Jun stepped around to the head of the cot, her hands moving to cradle Oracle just behind her ears. Then, light, soft and warm, enveloping her entire head, permeating deep within. An attempt to combat any swelling of the brain, and, with any luck, help her regain consciousness. ”Careful with her hand, her fingers are broken, and one of her forearms are cracked.” Jun would say, tone soft not chiding, a look of pensive sympathy upon her face as she stared down upon a beautiful woman marred by malevolence. ”You may splint them, if you wish.” She’d finish, an offering for him to help further, unsure of what else to say.
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Post by Nomz on Oct 19, 2024 19:54:17 GMT
Damian nods his head once in understanding. It sounds like something Barbara would ask to be done, likely wanting him nearby for one reason or another. Some bat qualities never disappear no matter how far from Gotham they move. His teeth clench as golden light traces lines across Barbara's clothing in the vague shape of a stick figure.
He refocuses his gaze on the medic as his sister's clothing falls away, trying to override the feelings of peace and serenity her magic offers. The first and hardest lesson he learned upon joining the family was to not let anyone figure out who they were under the mask. Yet, here he is, letting this stranger unmask his sister in the hope that she can be healed.
"Which one is cracked," he asks even as he lets go of his sister, eyes casting about for the supplies he will need. Thankfully, the JL keeps their safehouses well stocked and he manages to collect the materials needed. Damian drags a rolling cart with him before sitting back down near the side indicated by Jun.
"Who are you and where did you find her?" Though he is speaking to her, his attention is solely focused on splinting Barbara's arm and then her fingers. He hates this. Damian scowls, his brows pull down over his eyes, and his voice darkens. "Did you see who did this?"
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