5295/Death Waits
From Multiverse Crisis MUSH
| Death Waits | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 05 June 2017 |
| Location: | The Quilt |
| Synopsis: | Sombra's in medical. Death waits - for her to recover. |
| Cast of Characters: | Reaper, Sombra |
- Reaper has posed:
Concord medical was no Confederate medical - no endless expanse of medical beds, no unceasing line of wards trapped in an eternal looped infinity. Still, it did bring together a variety of expertise from a wide expanse of infinite worlds, which meant if it was broken, they could probably fix it here.
Of course, any medical ward worth its salt has beds. No matter how fancy, reclining and relaxing has always been the hallmark of health. What makes this one different is the privacy afforded - and that a monster is in the room with a young Sombra.
REAPER. Posted like a spectre at the chair near the door, his arms crossed. Masked features do not show whether he is awake or asleep, trails of smoke still wafting from the tears in his form, and from the seals of his mask. But he? He is already dead; There's nothing left to fix.
His asset, however, is alive.
- Sombra has posed:
The medical personnel had been busy with Sombra, taking her vitals and checking out her brain and heart activity. Lightning can affect those organs quite a bit, but it turns out Sombra had been lucky. No heart arrythmia has been detected, though she's still on strict bedrest with electrodes fastened on her shoulders and chest to monitor her heart. Before they had returned to Concord HQ the hacker had passed out again, and she's been asleep while the medics have worked on her. No permanent damage, they said. The graft they can't look at, but physically the latino woman is okay besides the injuries she suffered from falling down the roof. Cuts, bruises, things that will heal. For now she needs to be here over the night, just so they can be sure.
A groan leaves Sombra as she comes to again, blinking her eyes tiredly as she finds herself staring up at the ceiling. Slowly she turns her head to the side, her eyes falling on Reaper's form where he sits. "... heya Gabe..." Her voice sounds a bit tired. So she's in medical... "So how much damage did la puta do to me?" she asks, all before her eyes fall on the IV line on her hand.
- Reaper has posed:
Needless to say, having a large, masked man seemingly bleeding smoke sitting in the room scrutinizing every activity with laser like focus has given more than a few nurses a case of the nerves. Fortunately, there are always the exceptional ones that manage to push through; After all, there are lots of people in the Concord scarier than Gabe. Even if they're not quite so willing to pull the shotguns. There is no answer to Sombra speaking for a moment, the masked gaze still monitoring the wall somewhere up and to the latina woman's left. Which is when there's a slight creak, and that low growling voice slips out - almost reactive at this point.
"My name is Reaper."
The cowled head turns, sterile white mask regarding Sombra briefly before he speaks. "Enough to warrant my intervention." He states, voice forever that husky growl. Before finally pushing himself out of the chair, his arms dropping to his sides. Boots clumping as he lazily closes the distance between himself and the med-bed.
".. And to assess your state as a Talon asset." Yeah, that's the only reason he was here. To make sure she was still worth the effort he put into keeping her around! Totally.
"There'll have to be a specialist to look at your.. enhancements. One with tight lips and a mortal fear of buckshot to the back of the head."
- Sombra has posed:
Again Sombra smiles, looking particularly amused by his reaction to her calling him by the nickname. "Thanks for getting me out of there, I think they would have dragged me in or something." Being in jail sounds boring. Raising her bare arms, the hacker inspects her hands. No major injuries there, nor do they hurt much besides what she'd expect from a fall. Nothing broken. Though she does sigh when Reaper talks about assessing her current state. "I'll be fine, really." Oh right, he's talking about her graft. "I have somebody who can fix this up quickly enough. I think the lightning overloaded it," she responds, then makes a face. "Yeah, it's not working to full capacity, I can tell... I can go in and get it fixed tomorrow if they will let me leave, no need to find other people for this, Gabe," she assures him, then shifts in bed with a wince on her face. "I... kinda want extra tight lips when it comes to my graft." Not so strange, really.
- Reaper has posed:
"They'll release you."
States Reaper, with the full authority of a man who walked into the American envoy and walked out with a murderous young cowboy ripe for BlackWatch. The snarl is still there - it always is - but there's just not a whole lot of force behind it. Reaper, the murderous terrorist mercenary, moves to the otherside of the bed now. Settling with his back against the wall, where he can watch the door rather than the window. Being closer is just coincidence.
"... Mission failure. They escaped. We didn't expect that kind of response time." He begins, with a low growl. Clawed gauntlets grip the seat's armrests, denting the wood with a faint cracking sound. Before his breath hisses out again. "But your information was spot on; Jack is alive. He's my priority target, outside of Concord's... missions." The sterile white mask turns towards Sombra, now, clawed gauntlets releasing their grip.
"You've got no orders to join that hunt." He states, curiously phrased, voice low and reverberating. "His death is mine to ensure. His life is my failure to correct.."
- Sombra has posed:
Of course they'll release her tomorrow so she can go and get herself back in fighting condition. What good is a hacker who can't hack properly like she does? Sombra chuckles a bit, lying still as Reaper moves settles against the wall next to her bed. And then he does a quick debriefing by the sound of it.
"Si, they were too many compared to the two of us, their skills were too diverse..." Even against an agent of death and a hacker like herself. "Too bad Reinhardt wasn't alone," she sighs wistfully. Only to arch an eyebrow at Reaper. "Of course my information was correct. I ran the scans, there was no mistaking that Soldier 76 is Jack Morrison." Which is why she had told him, because Reaper obviously wants to run into him again. Yet when he speaks again, Sombra can't help but frown.
"Now that's hardly fair... I get you the information, and you won't even let me take part in handling him? Que injusto!" Yes, she /is/ pouting, though it only lasts a moment as she pushes herself up into a sitting position, causing the machines to beep a bit as she grits her teeth. "Let me at least help with the locale, Gabe... So he can't run or get help."
- Reaper has posed:
"Even if the remain clump together, it means they're less effective in the long run. A target rich environment."
States Reaper, putting both his elbows on the chair's armrests - clawed gauntlets tak'ing together slowly as he listens. "You did. But how did he survive the blast? We both-" He breaks off, with a growl. "Gabriel and he both had the same enhancements. And he walks away with only a few scars to show." Gauntlets creak as they grip, and then that hand slams down again; Wood snaps. A long, slow hiss from beneath the mask, before Reaper's voice is back to its normal low growl.
"Silencio. Fair doesn't play into -necessity-." He begins, the mask turning to watch Sombra strugglg into a sitting position. That low rumbling growl pulls from his throat, before that clawed hand waves loosely in the air.
"Primero, recuperas." He finally states, before moving back to his snarl as if he'd forgotten. "You're no good to me dead or out."
- Sombra has posed:
It's interesting to hear how Reaper speaks, how he corrects himself when talking about his former life, about the incident that made him a different man. About how Morrison changed from the commander to the vigilante... Sombra is quiet, watching the other agent where he sits. "... La fortuna might have favoured him, sadly," she muses, offering a brief shrug. No, nothing is fair in life, but she's still going to comment on it. Sure, she hears him tell her to rest and get back into shape. It's annoying to not be able to do anything right now, but hey... it's time to look at the positive thing in this situation. And perhaps annoy dear Gabe some more.
"Awww, if I didn't know better I'd think you genuinely care for me, Gabe," she says with a cheeky grin on her face. "Are you going to bring me candy next time you stop by, hmm? I like the sweet ones best."
- Reaper has posed:
"No. Not luck. Planning."
Hisses Reaper at the old memory, clawed hands squeezing once more, metal gauntlets creaking as they take the pressure of his contraction. And then she asks if he's going to bring candy next time he comes; The sterile white mask turns back towards Sombra, and there's a quiet, dangerous silence before he speaks.
"You're useful alive. My job is to keep it that way, for Talon."
He shoves the chair back as he stands, broken arm-rest and all, pacing back to the other side of the room. Putting his back to the corner, now, his masked head turned towards the floor. One ankle crossing over the other, and arms crossing over his chest. SILENT TREATMENT.
