the end of a rope
|No more than a flesh wound, he kept mumbling under the shaky overhead light. Lies were told to keep from wandering further away from consciousness or fading out in the darkness where arms of the reaper awaited. He was ready for him, to finally collect on the debt that was owed right from the first time Slade managed to take a life for his country. Fleeting was the time as digits clutched the bottle of vodka laying around while a trusted associated with medical background, diligently bore through the wound for the bullet. A few removed from his forearm and shoulder an hour ago, easiest fragment that would've been an exit if reflexes were above par. In agony, he fished for another swig to anesthetize biting pain. Weaving in and out holding on tightly not to pass out, he saw broken images that spanned a week up until that exact moment. Teeth gave a grit to not bellow out in fear of opening his trap wide enough to set off a frequency that brought the roof down on the both of them or shatter the lighting helping to get him patched up. He had to get back home before the Blonde on enhanced 'roids put a foot in his ass for almost dying.|
Blocks of time curtained individually when he finally shut his eyes and covered his forearm against his head while spilling the liquid everywhere. He reeked of booze, sweat, and blood stretched out on a makeshift operating table. Soon he had to bail, ditch the scene again to get home. Pretend he was up to his saintly duties but all the recollection of the hours would prove differently. Backwards the time went, prior to setting off chain of events that put him in the position he currently was in. It started on the morning of Sunday when he awaken to the dull aches known to his inferior half. Knee went bum and shoulder's pinching discomfort naturally sent him to look for any sign of opioids to hush the throbbing that shot through his body. He couldn't hear as distinctively nor was reacting to the shadows in the hall of a cat or one of the dogs in the house. He stayed quiet on the missing details he grown used to day in and day out. Muscles didn't flex the same, durability was more human like, and the tighten of skin was spared.
Doomed to believe as the few days took on a different approach to any other week of alteration, he was nothing without his enhancements. He turned to old habits that cured the temporary afflictions he suffered on a daily within the last ten years of not existing as one. The bottle turned empty. 'Scripts that were once tossed out had been refilled through different avenues, and he took to harder pharmaceuticals of the street variety to get through the day. Binging here and there, chasing an old friend that he could operate while gaining insight that his other half was impaired, left to use a good eye. He saw fully and done so under the facade that he was going to commit to having fun when it was a new, with an old struggle fermenting daily. Risk of injury became major during the early hours of love making, for he had gone a couple of days of not knowing what to expect until hitching his own jaw ripped agape in release. Sending a mild shock to the airwaves, causing slight damage. He felt shitty in the afterglow of horror, even wanting to distance himself worn from being outmatched. Recklessness looked more and more like gold as the dust settled and he wanted out.
Forceps that dug into his upper thigh, was a promise that no major artery had been touched. He briefly was roused to, blurriness conquering his will to see perfectly but on route to passing out once again. He cursed, ranted under slurred speech, and bothered to take another swig. This time finishing the rest of the bottle and tossing it without a place to catch its fall. Shattering, it caused discord with the doc for pay and a threat to be billed extra for Slade's unethical patience. He didn't understand why the morning felt like an eternity, barely escaping being victim number four to a falling building but not only that, having holes in him without healing. His body was broken, testing its limitations with the slick thought of following through plans that were set in place a while ago. His word always meant something and remained to be the same for the shifty types that had the goods he wanted and vice versa. Money brought the men together on a occasion or two before. He scratched their back, finding the work to add to his bank account by process of elimination. Shooting to kill but in the case of a past contract, smother to kill.
Cruddy hands smothered his own face, bracing for the final extraction that made nostrils flare, and biting his tongue on ears picking up the final ping of lead hitting the floor. Surgical steel, careful hands, and precise eyes probably saved his life or stopped the reaper from visually appearing before him. As he reclined on verge of passing out once again, Thursday's early morning meeting turned awry with an agreed upon deal turned up on the wrong side. Slade's super indifferent demeanor see sawed between paranoid to distrust as lines had been crossed. Money talks fell through and an ugly side of dishonesty with the intent of thievery filled the office space thick with intense negotiations. It wasn't until the first round exited the chamber, that he had no other choice but to defend except his quickness to see it coming was a blindspot he went into the situation with. The patching up was efficient and he was out briefly whilst the noises sparking off like thunder overflowed in flashbacks.
Reliability on veteran memories was what got him out of the mazed property. His accuracy in wanting to dead the trail that caused the deal to die upon the first bullet striking him, filled his motivations with bringing the building down with everything around him on a forced echo of deep vocals screeching its destruction. His departure ended with intentions of blocking off an exit, trapping the men for their misdeeds of violating a deal and his safety. Crumbling walls sounded heavy on his move of adrenaline and the wheels he borrowed to get away was quickly peeling away from the scene before it was too late. He thought little of the reaction. Why it happened the way it did. Or if he was being followed en route to extending a colder trail. Sloppy he became and tacked on another snafu that had to be corrected if he could think quick while losing blood.
His doc tossed a blanket over him to wait for the eyes to rollover but kept an eye on him in order to get his pay. He was no use dead and all of the patching up would be for naught. Slade's threshold for pain had waned drastically under the phase of being separated from enhancements as was displaced he was being the equivalent to a bird man. Making it home was a dream and the shadow of the reaper still faintly lingered around in hopes that his new home would be hell.