The Honor Circle Returns! (IC)

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt glanced down at the hand on his arm, his eyes narrowing. Before he could do more than raise an eyebrow at the sizzling and cracks, or tense the muscles at the grip, the barthing slammed into the room, and interposed itself between the two.

Barely in time, as the biting chill bit into his arm where it was held, and then Stygian's tongue exploded, spraying bits over Boogeyman; fortunately missing Witt entirely. And then things got really hairy, with the arm attached to his own... melting into a shadowy mess that sucked the heat from his arm, like licking a glacier. Without actually releasing it's grip at all. Witts' eyebrows went up, then back down, and his eyes darkened. He attempted to withdraw his arm from the unsettling gloop, but it... stretched, disconcertingly. Finally, it burst into flame, singing the hairs on his arm - but not actually warming it at all; if anything, it merely increased the freeze.

And then it stopped. Totally; the flames froze, mid-roar; the green poisonous-looking glyphs stopped, mid-air; and the life started to creep back into his arm. He raised one eyebrow at the back of the barthing, and resolved, quietly, not to cause it any more trouble than he could avoid. He relaxed his arm, which gave him enough space to extract it from the molten-looking collar. Just; if it hadn't been for the singed hairs, he wouldn't have made it, and he had to remove the fingerless leather glove from his paw to do it, as well.

He took a single pace backwards, then to the side, fitting the glove back on, massaging the life back into his arm, and looked over the molten, livid, unhealthy-looking, and totally still mass. Then he glanced at Boogeyman, and reached forward to lever the mass off the ground, using the outstretched arm. He crouched slightly, grabbing each side of the, well, base, and, with only a subdued grunt, hefted it off the ground. The short, squat hedgehog took two paces towards the infirmary, then paused, and threw a glance back over his shoulder at the barthing. "I'm hopin' you don't find it fucking funny to unfreeze him before I get the bastard there."

With that, he stumped off out of the room, pausing only to manoeuvre the unwieldy mass out through the doorway. Once in the sickbay, he looked around, and, selecting an empty bed off away from the others, stumped over to it, hefted the mass up, and dropped it, somewhat perfunctorily, on the bed. Then he looked around, selected an empty washbasin, and started to wash some of the soot and debris from his face, working his way down to his boots. After a while, as he worked, the constant sub-vocalised curses became somewhat more audible.

[Yugo]

Kaela rankled at Bart's comment regarding punching, braiding up her muscles as she launched herself forward and laid down a devastating hook aimed at Bart's jaw. Really, she held no rancor against him, but she desperately wanted to teach him a lesson in humility before it cost him something more severe than just his pride. She unleashed a hail of punches, taking advantage of her armored shell as she slowly advanced, doing her level best to gradually wear down her opponent. Blood began to run into her eyes, blurring her vision, and for a moment she left herself open to an attack as she wiped it away with her forearm lest it allow Bart to hit her at his leisure.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's reactions might have been affected by the amount she'd drunk, but even she couldn't miss seeing the punch Bart threw at her. It wasn't just telegraphed, it was semaphored as well. She ducked sideways, just far enough so his fist grazed the side of her nose and muzzle. It still hurt, and spurted a little blood over her whiskers on that side, but not nearly as much as a direct hit on her already sensitive nose would have been.

She sidestepped a bit more when she saw Kaela coming in to the attack: the old wolf looked determined, and Andrace wasn't about to get in the way of such enthusiasm. Besides, if the other two managed to weaken each other, all the better for her. She dabbed at her nose with the back of her hand to see if the bleeding was slowing down yet.

[Stygian]

Barely humanoid, and with more than a few poking and sharp things to its form that got in the way, teeth and claws and spindly joints, the thing was certainly not easy to carry. Approaching, Sahlena seemed to stiffen and want to protest as Witt hefted the huge weight, but didn't have time. She was then interrupted by one of the crawling, scuttling things, as it seemed to try and bury into the floor. She made a modem-like sound of consternation, and then squashed it like a cockroach under her foot. Still, the darkness hung overhead, and there was a more than unnerving feeling in the air, accompanying the chill.
  ':what do you think you are going to do to him?' the machine asked, crossing her arms over her plated chest and looking at the Boogeyman. Her tone, her stance and directness, demanded an answer.

- -

The blackness of soot and clinging substance came off easily enough. At least by comparison. But it wasn't until he came to his arm that the hedgehog noticed the other blackness. His jacket had come out reasonably clean, though the leather had cracked slightly, a finger-like diffusing pattern embedded in it. The hair on his arm though, was gone, and a patch of his skin was tinged faintly black and blue, with yellow-white edges to it, in the precisely same pattern. It didn't hurt, but it felt rather numb. It looked as if he'd had frostbite in just a couple of seconds.
  Suddenly, a sound managed to find its way in between the curses and odious oaths, a little sizzle growing in the air. Witt had barely had a minute to inspect the wound. He didn't manage to react though, before he heard someone shout.
  'OhshitGodNO!' Andrea howled. Having backed up against the wall as the hedgehog had entered with his cargo, she had apparently approached Stygian slowly while Witt had been minding himself. Right then though, she only spared the writhing, black mass a second horrified glance, before rushing past and out into the bar once more.
  From down the back of the room, the copper-tinged flames and lights flickered again, ever so faintly, the writhing black mass moving so slowly that it was impossible to see clearly with the naked eye. Most horrifyingly though, were the green flares of eyes, locked in something almost like a human face frozen in agony, staring right at Witt, piercing him with their mindless pain.

[Boog]

"What do I think I'm going to do or what do I want to do?" the barthing swatted at another scuttling thing that had been unfortunate enough crawl across the counter at the wrong time. "What I want to do is make him pay for the damages, apologize for the other patrons and then, for good measure, suspend him from the ceiling and beat him until candy comes out. What I think I'm going to do, however, is get him cured of whatever the hell has him acting particularly this-ish, find out what he did to Piix that got him like this, and get him to remember to control himself," The thought-entity thumbed the key in his hands distractedly, "Lest it become necessary that someone else do so."
And then he heard the yelling from the other room and groaned. For chrissakes the man shouldn't even have any time to work with to alter himself. I left the bare minimum timeflow for the doc' to work with him, it should take him years to so much as read his own DNA. As he entered the infirmary it wasn't half so bad as he'd expected, the alarm caused more by the appearance of the thing than anything it had actually done. He looked at the expression on Stygian's face and grumbled something about sucking it up, before glancing over at Witt's arm.
"Knowing Styggy that's probably infected, you may wanna wait around for our doctor. Where the hell's Holic?"

Marya rolled over in the infirmary bed with a groan, and opened her eyes to an amorphous mass of what seemed like it was at some point, mostly like a person. The face really struck her though, and the eyes...
The eyes...
She recognized those eyes...
The mongoose snickered and rolled over in bed.

[techmaster-glitch]

The Mechangel

   The Mechangel, once again wrapped in his cloak but without the hood down, had been casually observing and cataloguing the "bar brawl" between the newcomers in one circle, and the heated match between [Paladin Sheppard] and [Stygian] in another. The latter battle ended with a bang--literally. The two combatants were thrown out of the circle, which was partially broken. After the apparent circle malfunction, the Mechangel resume observation of the bar battle. Hmmm...none of the newcomers seem to have any genuine firepower or defence, like that Marya...I guess it wouldn't be a proper one-on-one fight, but... The flesh side of the Mechangel's face broke into a smile as he looked at the rest of the patrons. I've got a better idea.
   Just then there was a BOOM, and the restrooms went up in flames, with [Stygian] stumbling out of the wreakage. Gods-damn that infernal man...hasn't he caused enough trouble already?
   Apparently not, as after another slight altercation Stygian then seemed to erupt into a mass of writhing shadow-stuff, spewing little squirming things left and right. At this, the Mechangel whipped off his cloak and jumped backwards onto his feet, knocking back his chair. His right arm was up, hand folded out of the way with a cannon barrel exposed and a white glow pulsing within, ready to unleash the remaider of his energy. Fortunately, that turned out to be unnecessary, as the [Boogeyman] seemed to freeze the bastard on the spot. He then had the spiked fellow [Witt] take the malformed shadow-man to the infirmary, while muttering about the pest problem.
   The Mechangel stowed his plasma beam, locked his metal hand back into place over it, and deployed the pulse-blaster from the top of his forearm. He then came up behind the [Boogeyman], expertly picking off all the things that [Stygian] had left behind with single shots from the pulse-blaster. The last little nasty was blasted to smithereens as the Mechangel stopped beside the [Boogeyman].
   The Mechangel spoke in his half-synthesized voice. "Personally, I would prefer if he were simply evicted from this establishment altogether. He has caused much distress to other patrons, and not answered for it. I'm almost surprised the customers he has harassed haven't left yet. Such unpleasantness is not conducive to the ambiance and atmosphere of this saloon."
   The Mechangel looked at the [Boogeyman]. "You can lodge that as a formal complaint, though it probably doesn't make a difference either way. Simply my input on the matter."
   Shrugging, the Mechangel returned to his table, retrieved his chair and cloak, and settled back down in both.

Karazkt

   The circle-walking Insectis was finally snapped out of his despair by the initial restroom explosion. Still upset, he finally decided he needed some rest, and had to get away from this commotion. He exited the bar through the door to the garage to go nestle up in the cockpit of his digger mech.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt sniffed, having removed his jacket to wash it, and himself, off, and glared at the burn marks on the front. Of the jacket, of course. "Spose at least they bloody look ok." The musculature displayed, although at least partially hidden by his spines at the back, was significant; mute evidence that Stygian was heavier than he looked was given by the size of the dent in the bed he was currently frozen on, the muscles on the 'hog explaining how the molten mass was moved.

He dropped the jacket on a bed, then turned his attention to himself, and flexed his left paw, inspecting the damage to his arm. Before he could do more than smudge the soot, or more than glance at the bruise, the quietness was broken by the scream from Andrea. Glancing up, his gaze was arrested by the stare from the face in the mass. He froze for a moment, then relaxed, and stepped back across the room, arriving at about the same time as Boogeyman.

"Knowing Styggy that's probably infected, you may wanna wait around for our doctor. Where the hell's Holic?"

"I'd about figured that myself. Sneaky bastard." This last in slightly admiring tones. He looked directly at the face, then addressed a comment to the barthing. "This thing is frozen in time, you said." He glanced over at Boog for confirmation, then returned his attention to the face. "You look fucking miserable, there." He reached out one hand, and tapped a knuckle on the forehead of the face, making a clear ringing sound. "You bloody oughta get that seen to, I reckon. If the wind changes, your face will freeze like that." He chuckled an evil little laugh, and went on. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have my own problems."

He waved a cheery little wave, said "see ya!" and sauntered back to the sink, to continue washing himself up.

[Angel]

Dani relaxed a little once the flames covering Stygian were put out by the hedgehog Sylvie'd been punning with earlier. Some little part of her head once again reminded her that in Rustburg, she would have been cracking up at this situation.

What happened in the next ten minutes silenced that part of her.

Stygian was not all right. He was looking sort of like he had when Sylvie had scratched up his face...and he was talking about something hurting inside of him. Dani could feel the skin on the back of her neck starting to prickle - this was all uncomfortably familiar, considering what she'd seen in the Circle fight and what Sahlena had told her. When the bartender came back in and began to tell off Stygian again, Dani noticed the same thing she had before, the first time Boog had gotten mad – when he got angry, he started to look ... different. Her last blissfully distracted thought was: I gotta find out if I'm allowed to challenge him.

Then, everything went to hell.

Stygian's body did things no ordinary human form should be able to do. Then something exploded from his mouth and began crawling outwards. Black frozen patches formed on the floor around him, his skin and clothing ripped apart, and a twisting, horrible mass of something came forth from the twitching body and caught fire. It took all Dani had not to scream, throw up, and/or lose control of her bladder. Even though nothing she'd seen in her workplace was as horrible as this, her training in keeping her self-control mercifully worked.

The Boogeyman, she noticed was remarkably calm about the situation, sticking the key he'd been menacing Human-Stygian with earlier into Crawling-Demon-Stygian. The gesture seemed to work, and the CDS released Witt and froze. Boog explained, and Dani now wanted to fight him even more, but that part of her could only speak in frightened whispers now.

A muffled retching noise outside reminded her of a certain someone's likely reaction to this. The redheaded correctional officer stood up, fingers clenched tightly around her glaive, and walked over to the door, grabbing Sylvie's staff before she stepped outside.

-------

The elf was on her knees, away from the windows, panting, wiping off her mouth and looking like she'd just witnessed a murder. A few freshwater tears were on her face, but she wasn't sobbing; her eyes had just welled up when her stomach and chest muscles cramped. What she'd seen in her fight with Stygian, what had happened between them upstairs, was tame compared to this. She heard footsteps behind her, and immediately knew who it was. A pale hand grasped her shoulder, and her former guard gently said, "Get up, Sylvie."

The Green shook her head weakly. Dani crouched down next to her, seemingly unconcerned with the dark stain on the ground in front of them. "Come on, we might need you inside."

"For what?" the elf replied in a faint voice. Dani sighed a little and answered, still keeping her voice low so no-one would come out to see them.

"Well, for one thing, so I can keep an eye on you..."

"I'm fine."

"I can tell."

"......Why else?" Sylvie responded, still hesitant, but shifting her position so she could get up. The Red next to her looped an arm around her ribs to help her friend steady herself.

"You could help with him. I think he's really sick or something - " She was cut off by the elf's voice, which was a little angry, but more with distress than real hatred.

"Dani, he himself said he was dangerous, and Sahlena told you the same thing. How is this different from how he acted before?"

"You know it's not the same thing making him act like this, and so do I. He's hurt himself, Syl, and Witt too; why would someone do that – even someone like him – if everything was okay? And without any provocation? You challenged him to the fight, Giles had been an ass since he came in, and you made a mistake upstairs. What did you see that provoked him to do what he did just now?" The irony of defending a man she'd wanted to kill only hours before didn't escape Dani, but it worked. Sylvie went silent, her eyes still fearful and upset, but with a spark of understanding. With no trace of smile whatsoever, Dani turned Sylvie and locked her own dusty red eyes with her friend's light green ones. "As bizarre as I know it sounds, I don't want you to hate him for this. You're scared? That's understandable. It was scary to watch. But to refuse to help him over something he didn't even direct at you is the dumbest thing you've ever thought of doing." There was a lengthy pause, and both girls were grateful that no-one could see them. After what lasted only a minute but seemed like an hour, Sylvie squeezed her eyes shut tight, took a deep breath, and opened them. Then, with a slight nod to Dani, they both walked back in.

Sylvie picked up her cloak from the bar stool it was lying on and brought it over to a table, hanging it on the back of a chair. She signaled with her eyes to Dani, who nodded and let the elf sit down to get her composure fully restored. The Red herself headed closer to the infirmary door to see what was going on.

[Stygian]

Irritably, the machine sizzled at Mechangel after he made his proposition, that very sound decrypting into an assortment of highly unappreciative comments on its own, clarifying what she thought of his opinion. When their host decided to up and leave though, she stalked after Boog as he moved into the infirmary, running processes calculating precautions and probabilities in the background, scanning the surroundings passively for any sort of oddity or sign of taint that might crop up.
   ':firstly, even if you slow him down, that's just putting the problem on hold, not actually dealing with it!' she aggravated. ':secondly, i don't think it's going to take. if you want to cope with this, you have to...'
   Andrea rushed by, as they stepped in, and Sal made yet another of those sounds, this time with a grating edge to it. Looking down the infirmary, she caught the look of and instantly timed Stygian's movements, watching him with her main eye and trying to make an estimate of the progression he had in breaking his 'time suspension'. Her other eyes swiveled in their sockets, identifying the floodlights and objects present. They were going to need more...
   ':look, you want to do something about this? bring that little fuzzy, caramel-colored thing in here and let me examine it,' the machine said sourly, turning to Boog. ':but first, we're going to have to set up something better to contain him. quickly. if i'm right we've got about twelve minutes. then he'll be completely with us again.' She looked around, head turning smoothly. ':have you got any blacklights here? fluorescent lights? anything made out of titanium, or paint with some in it? mercury thermometers? a microwave would be good too, not to mention perhaps a car battery...'

[Boog]

"We can get any of those things from under the bar, some patrons that show up at these places have well and truly odd definitions of drinks," someone said, footsteps approaching from the infirmary's back room, "If you mean dear little Piix, she's in the bed over there that's walled off by privacy screens. Try not to wake her, and by that I mean no high explosives in the immediate vicinity. She hasn't so much as twitched since she was brought in. Whatever your friend did, he was very thorough about it." Something in a lab coat strolled into view, a creature that looked like some combination of a burn victim, a truly immoral genetics experiment, a crate of medical supplies and an ermine. Its chest was bare, showing a series of small sleeves or pouches along it's rather slight pectorals containing crudely functional-looking surgical and medical tools. One hand was covered in some manner of leather sleeve covered in belts up to the elbow, and in place of fingers were syringes that veins visibly extended into from the hand.
The smiley face bandaid on the thing's forehead didn't make it look much friendlier.
"My name is Dr. Holic. How may I be of service?"

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt threw back over his shoulder "You tell me. Can you be of service?", then went back to washing off soot and blast marks.

[Tipod]

Bart staggered sideways at the first blow, immediately turning himself around to face Kaela. "Oh, hit a guy when he's not--" But couldn't very well complete a retort with her fists continually pounding against his face and chest. By the third blow, he was dizzied. By the fourth, delirious, and beyond that he could barely stand on both feet. He feebly grabbed at her wrists and hands, but with vision bordering on triple it was pointless.

...*whump* He finally fell flat on his ass, spitting out a mouthful of blood (and one or two teeth). "...is that the best you can do, grandma?" The only constant tactic Bart used was to play human punching bag for the first several minutes, keeping just enough distance at odd intervals to let himself recover. "That ain't nothin'. I-- Shit, hold up," he mumbled and got to his feet with the assistance of a nearby chair. "I got roughed up worse by my own mama, you old bag. Hit me with somethin' real." The heavy breathing and blood on his face certainly didn't back up the bravado.

[Stygian]

Standing absolutely still, Sahlena merely observed the new arrival for a quite long time. At first, she was conflicted as to whether if she should react as if Stygian might already have caused some trouble, but she quickly realized that the creature she were faced with really just looked that horrid all on its own. Even for someone who had seen bio-engineering, cybernetics and medical cases of the more horrible kinds, his grafted, damaged looks were something truly outstanding.
   ':i...' the machine began, then blinked a lens, and turned away, not saying a word more directly at the thing. ':retrieve those things then, or this place is going to be a mess soon.' She turned next, walking over to the screened-off section and disappearing from view, taking a stool and placing it next to the top end of the bed. First, she had to get a rough feel for the thing's physiology, then draw some blood, some venom, and then eventually she might get around to a CT- and EMG-scan. The question was whether if the place had good enough machinery for that sort of thing. Because she certainly wouldn't want to do it without, or trust that mangled, unhygienic patchwork man...
   ':if you have any equipment that might be of use here, i would very much appreciate if you told me so,' the machine-woman vocalized, after a second. Asking to orient herself was far from accepting aid. At the same time, she reached over to the bedside stand of equipment, searching out an empty syringe. Hands and fingers dissolving at joints and in the tiny incisions between the smooth, flexible metal of her body, becoming a clicking, whirring assortment of individually mobile, spidery digits and tools, she extended a small burner from within her hand and produced a very low-key but intense, warm flame, which she swept the needle with a few times along with small bursts of high-energy UV-light, sterilizing it. Already, she felt more processes and warnings make themselves known in the background, translating into a worry that the whole place might be as wicked and crude as its caretaker. Which, while much better than what Stygian might unleash, really didn't make for good circumstances for real medical work...

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's nose had stopped bleeding by the time Bart finally landed on where his tail should have been. The brief rest had helped her get her breath back, now she was ready for round two. Her eyes narrowed and her tailtip flicked as she watched him closely, though: Kaela had given him a thorough beating, but he got back to his feet faster than she'd expected. Did he have some out-of-the-ordinary talent for healing? She didn't think he'd used a conventional healing spell. Maybe he was just very tough?

The hairless critter's boast of "hit me with something real" gave the lioness an evil idea, and a perfect opportunity to do a little experiment by way of throwing herself back into the fight. She turned and grabbed the nearest table, her claws digging in to the edges for a firmer grip, then she lifted it a little off the floor and spun it as hard as she could in Bart's direction like a gigantic frisbee.

"Hey, Shiny! This real 'nough f'r ya?" she shouted as she crouched slightly and leaped with a gleefully bloodthirsty snarl, claws and fangs bared, her pounce timed to land right on top of Bart about half a second behind the table.

[Boog]

Dr. Holic quirked what we will for the sake of argument call an eyebrow and stepped forward, placing one hand at the base of Sahlena's spiderfingers to slightly nudge her hand away.
"That will not be necessary. I've already examined the patient. Give me some credit here, after all, I am a professional." He reached into the lab coat and around to his side, made a jerking motion, and removed three vials of various fluids, made of what looked like natural volcanic glass. "The various scans of her physiology are in the top drawer of my desk, they might mean more to you than they do to me. After all," he gave the very slowly shifting mass of Stygian a look, "I know little about what I can do about your friend. You, on the other hand..." Dr. Holic turned toward Witt, face thoroughly unreadable, "Are not going anywhere until I have a look at that arm. Sit down." He patted the side of an empty examination bed.
Boog had already left to fetch the things Sahlena had mentioned. The idea of something that would keep Styg from making a nuisance of himself WITHOUT using the key appealed to him immensely. He hated using the thing, it scared the hell out of him.

[Sunblink]

...Keaton and Xianxi:

'You are certain you are well, mistress?'

'For the last time, yes, Xianxi.'

After a good hour of spitting, hacking, and generally regurgitating every foul beverage that had accumulated in her stomach, Keaton finally felt well enough to entertain rudimentary exercises - trying to leave her bed, for example. Almost instantly, after she took the first step, she felt her nausea return and had to collapse back under the sheets, vomiting into the container Xianxi had helpfully provided. Fortunately, with enough water, rest, and a periodic ritual of cleansing her insides, all of which was diligently supervised by Xianxi, Keaton was able to wander out of her bed and away from the infirmary around the time it began to grow crowded. As she was in desperate need of privacy and didn't want anyone to witness her indignity, Keaton was glad that her bed was segregated away from the rest of the patients and separated with a large curtain. Her departure went largely unnoticed, since the doctor seemed to be preoccupied with a new arrival. Keaton didn't see how serious the injury was. Her stomach was already in a tender, easily-provoked state and she didn't want to agitate it further, lest she see her own gall bladder.

When Keaton looked outside, at the tavern, she noticed the drinking contest had ended. And as it was, she didn't want to drink anything alcoholic for a week. The bartender seemed rather disgruntled, so Keaton crept surreptitiously past the busily chattering patrons, cradling Xianxi in her arms so the levitating creature wouldn't attract any unduly attention. Without any sound whatsoever, she shimmied into one of the booths and pretended to not look conspicuous. Of course, with her obnoxiously bright color scheme of yellow and black, she stood out like a sore thumb, but she thought she should have been applauded for the effort.

---

...Piix:

Piix, feeling thoroughly exhausted by the day's events, hadn't witnessed the altercation between Stygian and Pal. She had fallen asleep on the table just after they left the tavern, and hadn't realized that she was moved into the infirmary. She hadn't so much as twitched, but was clearly alive: color hadn't drained from her face or the complexion of her ears and she was still warm - plus her body was imperceptibly mobile with breathing.

---

...Dekuyaketh:

The giant Maine Coon felt himself stir; even while suffused in utter black blindness, he could feel the muscles of his body tense and rattle inside his body. That was enough indication that he had recovered: he could still think, and now whenever his memory tiptoed back to previous events he wasn't assailed by unpleasant things. Dekuyaketh was almost certain, as he assessed the progress of his recuperation, that he was well enough to walk, but remaining lethargy prevented him from rising from his bed. Judging by the pressure against his face, Dekuyaketh was lying on his stomach and his cheek was resting on a pillow that still smelled faintly of commercialized bleach. His surroundings held similar scents: different medicines and soaps used to purify the instruments contained in the room. The sheets of his medical bed (coincidentally large and strong enough to accommodate a creature of his height and weight) were draped just beneath his wings.

Dekuyaketh registered something unpleasant. Something that stank of smoke, like freshly-incinerated roadkill. And he heard people talking. Fisting his fingers of his non-mechanical arm in the sheets, Dekuyaketh opened one eye and stared wearily at the source of the smell - the doctor hadn't closed the curtain separating their beds yet.

Dekuyaketh came face-to-face with one of the most horrific, thoroughly mutilated things he had ever seen. It was a smoky black mass of antimatter, sizzling and writhing and somehow alive although no creature could survive something so terrible.

Dekuyaketh stared at it for a good, long time, the glazed gold-amber disc of his iris unreceptive and as emotionless as the rest of his face, as though he was seeing and yet not seeing. And without a single sign of acknowledgment, Dekuyaketh did what a professionally-trained monstrosity of his caliber did best when confronted with a mutilated inferior: he pointedly ignored it. His wings shriveled and shrunk into his shoulder-blades, disappearing underneath his scarred skin, allowing Dekuyaketh to roll onto his back and avert his gaze toward the ceiling. One of his hands raised high in the air, gesturing with a hooked claw-finger.

"Hey, doc," he said - his voice was extremely groggy and distorted, "Not to interrupt or anything... I know you're a busy man, after all - but am I okay to leave yet?"

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt glanced over at the doc, then shrugged expressively, dropped the sooty rag (all that remained of the flannel he was wiping himself down with) in the sink, and ambled over to where the doc was indicating.

"You sure you want me to sit there?"

The doctor nodded.

Witt shrugged. "Your bed, I guess." He then put one hand on it, and bounced up with a "Hup!", before landing - with a decidedly crunchy sound - on the bed, both legs hanging over the side. He raised one eyebrow at the doc, shuffling a bit, with more crunchy-sounding effects from his spines where they were embedded firmly into the mattress under him. "Something like this?"

[Stygian]

It had to be wrong, really, but somehow it looked as if the machine actually shivered when she felt the Frankensteinean meld touch her. Her face turned quickly to the side, sensors and actuators moving and buzzing irritably, and then followed his hand as he took out the vials, snatching them up as she got to her feet once again. Without a word, she walked over to the desk indicated, and sat down, spidery fingers spreading the pages and plastic-print pictures as she began reading them all at once. It took her about five-six seconds to copy their data, and then she turned to the vials. Now, those on the other hand...
   By the time the machine-woman turned around again, Stygian's tongue - the one that had grown out of the formerly ruptured one - was growing a small maw of its own, along with the socket around his burned eye, it seemed, and had extended another inch and a half. He was staring directly at her. There seemed to be something simultaneously pleading and frustrated in his gaze by now, as if he were just coping with the pain and could now spare enough attention to despising his predicament. His eyes managed to almost follow her the entire way over to him, as she got up, and extended her digits toward him.
   ':turn up the lights a bit more. and burning some UV on that wound might be a good idea...' she commented to no one in particular, as she calmly snipped off the end of the writhing flesh between the thing's wicked teeth, and then punctured a spider-like thing that seemed to be emerging from his shoulder. Sending an electrical jolt through it, she took the sample back over to the desk, then calmly set about distributing the biopsies in little doses, monitoring and analyzing.

- -

Having emerged making faces and cursing out into the common room once again, Andrea had immediately stomped over to the bar, grabbed a glass, and downed a hefty load of cold water. Figuring that she ought to go with tea next, or even better coffee with just a tiny something in it to give warmth and a comfortable buzz, she rubbed a temple hard. Usually, Stygian was just an annoyance and a hole in her otherwise nearly perfect awareness of the thoughts and things happening around her. What she had felt in there though had actually clawed at her mind, as if it were trying to infect it. In hindsight, reviewing the feeling, she realized that she hadn't really been in any danger, but the sheer feeling... She could still feel some of the grating blackness beyond that door, but blocked it out with ease.
   Her eyes ventured behind the counter, as she shook the thought off, along with her worries. But she stopped when she became aware of snippets of thought and conversation, of fear and worry, affection and slight embarrassment, from outside. With familiar 'flavors' to the thoughts. She frowned at Dani and Sylvie both as they re-entered, but kept silent up until Dani started moving toward the door to the infirmary.
   'What're you looking for?' she asked out aloud. At the same time, she cast her thoughts out toward Sylvie, harmlessly bouncing her internal voice off the elf's mind.
   If you are shocked by that sort of thing, you really should put him out of your thoughts, she echoed in the Green's head. Her gaze lingered on Dani for a few seconds, then turned toward Sylvie, her expression blank.

[Angel]

Dani couldn't quite see what was going on in the infirmary and was about to move closer when a familiar voice addressed her. She looked back over her shoulder at Andrea.

"I wasn't looking for anything specific. I just wanted to see what they're doing and whether he's okay." She didn't completely turn away from the direction she was going in, but she turned enough to face Andrea comfortably and politely. The psychic hadn't done anything harmful to Dani to stop her, so she guessed she was trustworthy. The only thing that bothered Dani was the surprised look she'd seen on Sylvie for the briefest of moments when she'd turned around. The elf wasn't looking anywhere near either of them, and she settled down quickly enough. Then Andrea had turned to face her.

Dani bit her lip. Even if it was well-covered-up, she knew what had probably just happened, but no-one was bleeding yet, so she decided to say nothing and wait. And keep one ear open for anything that might make Syl run outside again.

---------

Sylvie wasn't calm, not yet. She almost wanted another glass of elven wine, just to take her mind off things. Part of her wanted to look into the infirmary, but she knew Dani would do that and tell her what was going on anyway. She was worried, and wondering still if it was safe for her to be this concerned about St-

If you are shocked by that sort of thing, you really should put him out of your thoughts.

She sat up a little noticeably, her pupils dilated for a minute. Then, realizing that she recognized the voice, she turned the tiniest bit apprehensive. She relaxed herself and didn't look at Andrea or Dani - she didn't want to worry her friend, and the psychic hadn't tried to control her yet, so there was a chance she just wanted to have a conversation without alerting anyone else.

I thought I said to stay out of my mind, she thought indifferently. And believe me, I wish I could stop thinking about what I saw. If that is what you meant. She traced a fingertip along a groove in the table, only half-expecting a reply.

[Tipod]

With mere seconds to react, Bart quickly brought down his big right fist on the airborne table, smashing it in two uneven pieces with his greater-than-average might. Sadly, his reflexes weren't nearly honed enough to avoid being floored by Andrace's 220 pounds of muscle. Her tackle brought him down to the ground like a ton of bricks; no room for tumbling around and playing the "now I got you pinned, I win" game. First instincts immediately took over.

"Shit, get it off, get it off!!" He grabbed at her throat and pushed to keep her sharp fangs at bay. "Get offa me or I'll skin your hide!!" His trusty butterfly knife was just the tool for that, but the fall's impact sent the weapon out of his pocket and across the floor, just inches out of reach. His free hand frantically reached and grasped for the weapon, face tensed and awaiting a merciless shredding from Andrace. All the worst-case scenarios raced through his head: eyes scratched out, jaw ripped off, fangs digging through his jugular and spraying hot lifejuice like a ruptured firehose. It all boiled down to, What's this crazy broad gonna do now?

[Stygian]

People say and do a lot of things that they regret, Andrea reflected back at Sylvie. I wouldn't say that you seem very sure of what to do, so... She let the words hang for a bit, then crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned back on the counter, staring irritably at the infirmary door. I think that you should remember very well what you saw. And not think about it beyond that. But that's just me.
   Silence fell, and the lack of some backdrop of music or speech in the bar became painfully apparent. The only sounds and activity seemed to be coming from the infirmary and the flickering images of battle elsewhere, whereas a lurid darkness had fallen over the bar itself. On the table across the floor from Sylvie's, scattered mechanical parts and a pair of firearms gleamed metallically, and a stubbed-out cigarette stuck up from an ashtray.

[Angel]

Sylvie twisted her lips a little, frustrated at the cryptic response and still rather upset.  'Don't think about it beyond - ' what does that even mean? She knew the psychic didn't trust Stygian, and had a perfectly good reason to hate him. It was whether she herself should hate him (or wanted to) that bothered her. Dani was right, an unprovoked attack wasn't quite like him, but she couldn't figure out what could have made him act like this...

She started to think back. She'd had the fight with Andrea, then she'd left the infirmary and watched the fight between Mechangel and Marya.  Stygian had left at the beginning of that fight...then the elf and Sahlena had talked and she found out what he'd done to make Andrea hate him. Not much had happened between then and when Stygian came back down...except for whatever was wrong with Piix -

Wait.

A series of emotions crossed over Sylvie's face, as clear as a vocal reaction.

An idea forming, incredulity at the idea, and careful recollection.

Sinisterly slow, dawning comprehension as the facts presented themselves.

And finally, fearful, disgusted shock and disbelief.

No. Oh my God. It can't be - why would he - he couldn't have... Oh my GOD, did he - NO! No, it can't be that! There's got to be another explanation!

At the other end of the room, Dani stood up straight, looking tense and concerned for her friend, glancing briefly at Andrea, then at the infirmary door.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's snarl hiccuped and her eyes widened as she saw how apparently easily Bart smashed the table — with one hand, even. She barely had time to think oops before her leap ended with the meaty thud of her entire weight crashing into his chest, leaving him flat on his back with her crouching on top. The lioness grinned at his panicked reaction, but the grin faltered and she made a strangulated hrrkh! noise when Bart's hand clamped around her throat. He might only be interested in keeping her fangs away from his face, but still... Aw frig, he's strong! she thought, Got t' break his hold, an' not let 'im grab me again!

If she weren't choking, Bart's efforts to reach his knife would have been funnier. With her weight pinning him down, his arm wasn't quite long enough no matter how much he wriggled. It might be a small blade, but all the same, she had no intention of letting him stab her with it, so just to make sure, her tail flicked out and sent the knife skittering across the floor.

Andrace decided things had gone far enough. She wasn't hurting yet, and she wasn't completely unable to breathe, but this was no fun at all. She raised one hand and brought it down again in a blurringly fast swat aimed at the side of Bart's head. He might or might not have had time to see her claws were sheathed again. This time, she couldn't afford to hold back, now that she'd seen how strong and tough Bart was: she used her full strength and speed in the blow.

[Boog]

Boog plugged in the last of the apparatus meant to keep Stygian in place and flipped a switch. The strange, eclectic mess of parts ranging from the majority of a microwave to what looked to be components of a missile began to clank and whir for a moment, then slowed to stillness before a set of floodlights at the top illuminated the frozen Stygian's privacy-screened bed with a harsh light ranging from white to an eye-aching shade of ultraviolet. He then threw a sheet over everything of it apart from the lights at the top. Some of the components were scrutiny-sensitive.

"Yes," Dr. Holic said evenly. "This way you probably can't pry yourself out easily if you get alarmed." He then licked the side of one fist and swiped it over Witt's wound, which soon faded from an ache to a comfortable chemical numbness. He then raised the hand covered in syringes, started searching for a vein, and began talking.
"So, any medical conditions or medications I should know about beforehand?" He said almost absentmindedly.

[Stygian]

Looking back, observing Boog as he set up the requested items with uncanny speed, if not much of a clear idea as to what would specifically go where and how, Sahlena whirred, then shook her head and returned to her investigation. Gathering data, she started compiling just as she got up, having applied some of the poison to slices of the bit of tongue-thing she had taken. Tapping one of the blacklights, she seemed to almost frown, then made a sound almost like a sigh. Bending down, she avoided one of the increasingly rapidly flailing and seething tendrils of black that extended from the writhing mass on the bed, and took up a thin glass phial filled with a reflective, perfectly silver liquid.
   ':the light disables his manifestation of that "shadow mass". seems to dissolve it, more specifically, at certain ranges of frequency. i'm not sure how it works,' she began explaining, pulling out the plastic top. ':i've examined it several times, and it just behaves in ways it shouldn't. there are things it moves "around" that i can't analyze. i can only assume that these are what it interferes with, since that relatively low amount of energy shouldn't really be harmful to him at all.' She began pouring the mercury on the squirming mass, instantly causing a sizzling, crackling sound. Sparks started leaping off the thing, and a dull roar of pain emerged from too many mouths. ':the microwaves bounce off the high amount of metallic compounds he seems to contain, and cooks him from deep enough in that the heat gets caught in the tissue. and he seems to absorb the mercury too readily, building it up along with the rest of the toxins in him, which seems to weaken him. it also helps with the heating.'
   The thing on the bed seemed to shrink, just slightly, oozing little drips and flakes of black. It was moving much faster than before, though at least now it resembled something close to a man.

- -

The cluelessness and underlying stubbornness of it all perplexed Andrea. She stiffened, frowned, and her eyes widened as they turned toward Sylvie once more. For a good, long bit, she just stared as the elf with incredulity, as the realization wormed its way forth between her convoluted, excusing thoughts. And when it at last burst forth, distaste and pain in its wake, she snorted loudly.
   'You didn't-?!' the woman started, then turned her palms and eyes to the ceiling in an exasperated gesture. 'You're worse off than I thought! What exactly did you not notice? That he was crazy and so wound up he could barely keep his pants on, or that she was shocked and half naked?!'

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt raised one eyebrow at the doctor.

"Does alcoholism count? No, no medications, and the only fucking medical condition I have is I ain't bloody dead yet."

His arm, braced in front of him, didn't move at all under the doctor's ministrations, although the bed creaked a little. He considered, for a moment, then commented "I might have Tourettes, but anyone who sees a bloody shrink needs their damn head examined." He sniffed. "And then they damn well deserve whatever shit they get."

His breath, heavily laden with ketones, belied his stability. A little.

[Tipod]

Having his only weapon knocked out of reach was cause enough for anger. Getting his cheek and temple smacked roughly doubly so, teeth bared and clenched, he tightened his grip upon her throat and reached up with his other hand, bringing down his thumb upon the subclavical pressure point between her neck and shoulder as hard as he could. Bart's knowledge of pressure points was effectively nill, but he'd had cousins press down on his subclavical with their knifenails enough times to know just how painful it could be if done right. From her first strangled choke, he knew she could feel just how strong he really was; it was time to play it up a bit.

[Angel]

Sylvie's hands were entwined in her hair, her eyes were wide and flooded with confusion and fear. Even though she responded quickly, she was clearly distraught, and her voice was almost trembling.

"I didn't know....I-I didn't think that he...God, I'm so stupid! How could he do that? I trusted him!" she said, more to herself than Andrea. She didn't bother thinking the words anymore. This probably wasn't a very smart idea, though, as Dani was now more confused than ever.

"Am I watching the sequel to a movie I didn't see or something?!" she almost shouted, frustrated at her own confusion and Sylvie's distress. Sylvie gave her friend a look that was half-angry and half-pleading.

"Be quiet, Dan!" Sylvie knew Dani wouldn't feel the same pain as she was experiencing right now, but this was something she should find out for herself. The Green turned to face Andrea, her mind spinning with questions and feelings. "Why would he... it doesn't make sense! What could have made him do that to her?!" At that question, Dani seemed to hook onto a vague idea. It was blissfully unclear, though, as she'd been asleep for the whole ordeal between Stygian and Piix, and the aftermath as well. All she knew was that she'd missed something important...

[Stygian]

Snorting, Andrea rolled her eyes so pronouncedly and in such a well-timed manner, beefing the maneuver up with a contemptful little 'pah!' with such expression, that one might well have thought that a jury would pop up behind the counter to give her a score for perfectly executed snarkiness.
   'Yeah, you're absolutely right. Why would he do such a thing? I mean, he's just a drug-addled, sociopathic monster and murderer. What possible harm could he be? Let's call him the next time we need someone on a moral committee...!'
   Pressing a pair of fingers to a temple again and rubbing it, Andrea leaned back, a sour, gruff expression on her face.

- -

It was with a sigh that, after some extended observation and applying of more mercury to select hot spots of activity on Stygian's form that Sahlena turned her back on the man again. Having shrunk to a man's size again, his 'skin' and tissue seethed and bubbled, moving away from areas of more focused exposure and concentrations of burns and metals before it welled over them again, desperately trying to shield him from the stinging, searing light. As it moved around, portions of the structure below the blackness often came into view, making him look on the whole like a skeleton covered in and entwined with some grotesque black oil-thing. Moving fully in sync with the surrounding time now, he had been strapped to the bed, then chained when the straps started tearing and the bed breaking. Now, he just lay twitching, shuddering, making jingling noises in between the seething ones, green flames spouting up everywhere. Sal sat down by the desk again, metallic fingers tapping her chin as she put it in her hand.
   ':seriously, i can't make much of this,' the machine sighed. ':seizures, physical hyperactivity and changes in behavior can be explained. the composition is right. well, actually, since i haven't been able to ask him about anything, i'm just judging from his former reactions to drugs. the whole "spazzing out" thing though, and why he's... changing like that...' She turned to stare at the man.
   The machine stopped suddenly. A gun was pointed at her from right under the cover hung over the lamps and magnetrons, shaking hard. The chains for Stygian's right arm hung, black-rusted and corroded at the ends where he had eaten through them.
   'C-cold...! B-b-bitch... n-nnn... cold...!' he sizzled.

[Angel]

Andrea's talent with snarkiness did not excuse what she'd said, apparently. Sylvie's eyes grew cold and angry, and her hands moved from her hair to the tabletop, as if she was about to stand up. "That isn't - "

" - What she meant," Dani finished, facing Andrea. Sylvie almost started to speak up again, but Dani held up a hand. "Sylvie, I just want to ask her a few things. Don't get defensive, please." She knew that Sylvie wasn't quite coherent enough to ask for information properly right now, nor would she really be hearing it. Even if all Dani knew was that something bad had happened, she'd seen what had happened to Stygian himself and knew that she and the elf both needed answers.

"What was that you said about him being 'drug-addled'?" she started off, her tone firm and her face serious. "I'm not going to try to excuse whatever he did, but an explanation would be nice. So did you mean that literally, and how did it happen? Is that what's making him act like this?"