Anyway, in short, this tripod fic follows my two fav OC, Dragon and Adamaris. I won't spoil anything but it does include the worst fight scene ever. More about that when it comes up. I also apologize for any minor spelling errors or the such, I combed this as best as I could but some parts are tricky. I will also offer my apologies to whatever did to royally screw this thing up. I can already see the paragraphs aren't indented, what the Hell. I hate how this site has such a different style than Word. Angst!
Okay, enjoy. Peace out yo~
The Blade Liger is only halfway through its leap before a laser beam, thick as a Genosaurer and just as heavy, collides with the cat's left hind leg. The Zoid roars a cry so terrifying and deep that even the spectators in the stands wince and feel their stomach contents perform a mile-high drop. The Blade Liger hits the flat concrete floor snout-first, metal chips flying into the air like tiny, self-propelled meteorites.
Dragon is stupidly, pathetically frantic in the cockpit, the alarms a blaring cacophony of noise ringing in her skull. "C'mon, Rig. Get up." She urges, pulling the controls to get her Zoid back on his paws, back in the game. The Liger, gears whirling and turning, manages to get back on three legs, the fourth hanging limp and ugly. Rigel snarls, and that one sound of fear, hatred, and revenge, powers Dragon enough to spin her Zoid around to face her opponent.
"Ouch! Dragon and her Blade Liger had a nasty hit, but they are up again! Let's see how Shear reacts to that! Oooo, his Iron Drill does not look happy!" The announcer booms, an annoying and overzealous voice from above, like the audience needs his recap in order to know what's going on. But what he says is true. On the other side of the arena, the blue Iron Drill pulls back its metal lips in a feral roar, silver teeth all bared. It hops up and down, a real simian made of metal and missile launchers. Dragon feels sickness grow in her gut as her Liger slumps, rickety and unsure on three paws.
The pilots don't talk to each other. Dragon keeps her mouth shut and so does Shear. In this, in the battle environment, words don't win fights but claws and teeth, beams and shields, do. Dragon bears down on the controls, letting Rigel's alloy blades do all the conversing for them. It's a stupid trick, running a lame gait at this fully armored, barely nicked monkey, but Dragon's options and ideas are as useless as her Zoid's bad leg at this point. Now it's all or nothing, one last barrage. The blades effortlessly fall to Rigel's sides, the dark ebony of their surface lighting up with a pure, untainted blue, the color of Windeen Lake on a cool day. Rigel picks up speed, his paws thumping on the concrete and he leaps, beautifully, frozen for a moment, the left-hand blade pivoted and aimed just right to slice the Iron Drill's arm clean off…..
And the fucker grabs it.
One meaty metal fist closes over the blade's hilt. The way Rigel stops would be funny, if Dragon were not about to be liquidated. The other Iron Drill fist is coming closer, huge, to smash Rigel's neck, bang him up and make him bleed but Dragon pulls the blade lever before she even thinks. Reaction. So many years of piloting and she can do this in an instant. The blade whizzes forward like a guillotine, but instead of delivering the deathblow, the Iron Drill is suddenly minus an arm.
Rigel hops away as the Iron Drill screeches, it's fist covering the leaking stump. The crowd cheers and the Blade Liger skids around, fangs bared. Dragon lets the tingles of success creep up her spine. She's doing good now, but this match is far from over.
If Dragon hates anything, she hates losing. The arena is cleared out save for stragglers traveling in packs like sleepers, combing over the empty seats for any armor shards that maybe possible made it all the way into the stands. Dragon is sitting on the cold floor, watching Godos workers shove the remains of her beloved Blade Liger into a heap to be transported to some giant incinerator. The loss wasn't all bad, Dragon admits to herself. The Iron Drill scored lucky, firing all six missiles at the Blade Liger at such a close range that the fireworks still danced in Dragon's sight when she closed her eyes. Broken and battered, Rigel crashed to the ground and the great ape ended the match with a neck-crunching kick.
Dragon rubs the back of her neck. That defining snap, that telltale twist, and her Zoid dropped dead. Even she could feel it, lingering along her spine with a dull ache as if someone had taken a cloth ball and pegged it hard against her back. But worse was the ache of failure, of losing a precious 5,000 Gallos from this match. Dragon slumps forward, elbows on her knees, and doesn't hear the footsteps behind her until the figure is nearly on top of her.
Adamaris nudges her with his foot. "Hey," He says softly, his word an ocean of calm in Dragon's otherwise stormy sea. She tilts her head backwards in time for him to crouch down, his lips to the crown of her forehead and the bump of his knees by her ribs. Dragon is usually embarrassed by this sort of fuckery, all the snuggling and touching but for Adamaris, she can't help it. "You know what would make you feel better?" He practically purrs, dark hair and funny blue bang hovering within Dragon's sight.
"What?" Dragon grins, a simple gesture, as if she hadn't just lost a much needed win.
"Food!" Adamaris chirps loudly. Dragon laughs. "And booze, maybe. Some Jaegerbombs for you, or straight up vodka? Don't worry sweetheart I know a guy who has a place and we are going to go and get fucked." Adamaris smiles a silly smile and Dragon's grin grows wider because in an instant, everything seems okay.
Dragon has no idea what she is drinking, but it is colorful, a swirling vortex holding a galaxy of shades; pink and blue, green and yellow. Dragon wonders how the colors don't mix into one but before she can consider it too heavily, a person bumps her from behind and a third of the liquid sloshes out onto the floor.
"Sorry babe! My bad!" A guy, reeking of sweat and oil, leans over to her and gestures to her drink. "Let me get you another."
Dragon recoils. "No thanks, I'm good." She answers, stumbling away before the sweaty guy can land a thick-handed paw on her. She lost Adamaris long ago, watched him swagger off drunkenly with a guy and a girl, his tight jeans halfway off before he even made it to the bedroom. Dragon shudders slightly at the thought, her drink clutched tight in her hand as she pushes and squeezes her way to the kitchen. It's not as crowded here, the people thinned to tipsy couples battling for passionate kisses. Dragon dumps the rest of her fruity drink and goes for a glass of water. The sweet, cool bliss is barely to her lips when Dragon hears an excited cry. She glances over her shoulder and is promptly tackled by a girl, dark blonde hair waving around, bracelets jangling like music notes.
"Dragon! Wow, didn't expect to see you here. Is Adamaris with you?" Jenna pips, brandishing her glass of gin and soda. She's a little farther along than tipsy; already her green eyes are dulled by the effects of alcohol. Dragon looks at her the same way Rigel looked at the Iron Drill; a threat in the midst, but not one to take too seriously. Not yet. Dragon does like Jenna, she really does, but the complicated tension between her and Adamaris is a fight Dragon has trouble steering clear of.
"He was. I lost him, though. I think he's in the bedroom getting some action." Dragon chuckles, leaning against the sink and finally taking a sip of water. Wonderful. Jenna scoffs and rolls her eyes.
"No kidding. Can't say I'm surprised. Addy only thinks with one head," Jenna winks at Dragon, who blushes coyly in return. Jenna must find this adorable, for she laughs and bends over to give Dragon another hug. "I'll see you later, okay Dragon? And go find him, before he starts something?"
"Will do." Dragon answers lamely, and Jenna vanishes into the crowd as quickly as she came. Dragon suddenly feels very awkward, standing there with more booze in her body than blood. Dragon never really drinks a lot, that's why so many of Adamaris' friends found it odd when they hooked up. Dragon was the amazing pilot. Adamaris was the amazing partygoer. Their worlds, though different, completed them in a sort of jumbled meteors-falling-from-the-sky mess.
Dragon spotted Charlie, the guy whose house this was and invited them –well, invited Adamaris-, over. He was a shorter guy with a wild Mohawk, glitter in his hair like rain and rings running up and down all his fingers. She reached out and tapped him.
"Hey man, do you know where Adamaris is?"
"Getting a blowjob, last time I heard." Charlie shrugs, opening cabinets and drawers for another bottle opener for his beer. A surge of something, maybe anger, or even protectiveness, builds up hot in Dragon's cheeks. Relationships with Adamaris, she found out a while ago, don't exactly work.
"Yeah, but where is he?" Dragon pressed.
Charlie wrinkled his nose. "Uh. Check the master bedroom. Upstairs, second room on the left. Knock first."
"Thank you." Dragon says and throws herself back into the crowd, a wild and crazed bunch of partiers, all swinging limbs and white teeth and loud laughs. There are a ridiculous amount of glow sticks around.
"Hey!" Charlie calls after her. "If you see any of my bottle openers, let me know?"
The door is closed but not locked. Dragon might as well be heading into the Genobreaker's lair. It's quiet up here, the party mostly downstairs but Dragon hears the unmistakable sound of pleasure coming from a few rooms. She cringes. She never had this problem back on Nyx. All she did was pilot, eat, sleep, and get into loads of trouble with other people and Zoids. Pressing an ear to the door, Dragon doesn't hear anything save for the eerie silence. So its stand out here awkwardly, or go in and make things even more awkward. Dragon rocks back and forth, wishes she stayed and oversaw Rigel getting rebuilt over this.
Without fully thinking, wanting this over with, Dragon pushes open the door, softly, a crack, to peer inside. It's dark, with only the streetlights outside providing any mask of visibility. The bed in the room is huge, luxurious, with a fully canopy and ornately drawn headboard with Liger Zero figures adorning it's wood. The rest of the room is beautifully furnished, all expensive knickknacks and elegant light fixtures. Dragon steps the rest of the way inside; she doesn't see anybody, even though she's positive this is the right room. All set and ready to move on, Dragon flinches with surprise when something on the bed moves.
"Eve damnit, my head…..Oh fuck it, they left me!" Adamaris curses, and Dragon hears an intense rattling echo from the bed. She eases closer, eyes adjusting and there he is. Adamaris is partially naked, his shirt thrown off, a pair of gold handcuffs looped around his wrist and back around the headboard. He's stuck. Dragon can't help but let out a stifled laugh.
Adamaris turns to her. Even in the near dark, Dragon sees the flash of his teeth and the way his muscles relax. "Dragon," He rasps, and Dragon can only guess what recently went into that mouth. "Get me out of here. Please?" The last bit if almost a whine, but Dragon isn't letting him off that easy. He got himself into this mess.
"Where's the key?" She asks, pretending to search for it. "If I don't find it, you can stay here." She teases. Only Adamaris takes it seriously, and his head flops onto the bed. He whines and Dragon glances over at him from her intrusive shuffling around.
"Over here. On the bed somewhere. Shit, these kids were so pretty, you shoulda seen them, but then they left me! Or forgot about me. Whichever." Adamaris groans, his words muffled by pillow. Dragon signs, longs for the old days on Nyx before shit hit the fan, but walks over to the blanket and starts feeling about. When she instead gets a handful of Adamaris, she lets go and smacks him playfully for leaving her to go screw around.
"Ow! Easy," Adamaris grunts, wriggling around. He moves in such a way that Dragon can suddenly see one bright eye staring at her, heavy and lusting, the pupil blown so blackness eats up the steely hue of his iris. "Did you find it yet? Hurry up, these handcuffs hurt." He complains, eye shutting so he melts completely back into the shadows.
"The things I do for you…." Dragon starts to argue, her fingers finally closing on the tiny key that unlocks the handcuffs.
"I'll do to you. Only better." Adamaris chuckles and Dragon can see and even feel that sleazy grin, even under the cover of night. The exasperation that exhales from her mouth earns another short laugh from Adamaris, who, despite being chained to a bed, really seems to be enjoying this. Dragon, not so much.
"I hate you." She seethes, unlocking the handcuff and throwing them to the ground. Adamaris rubs his wrist and with the shadows watching their every move, Dragon misses the sudden gleam in his eyes. But he lurches forward anyway and suddenly Dragon is on her back on top of the messy covers, mouth running dry and heart hammering a broken song in her chest. Fear builds in her chest, panic causes her head to hurt. Adamaris leans down and Dragon smells the stale reek of booze and weed ruining this breath.
"I'll make you love me." He promises.
Thankfully, Dragon still has all of her clothes on when she eventually wakes up. The sunlight is bright and annoying and verging on painful as she rolls onto her back, vision all hazy and fuzzy. He mouth is full of hypothetical cotton balls. Adamaris is conked out beside her, mouth partly open and body relaxed. Dragon has no idea where they are.
Oh, the party! She remembers, and even the action of remembering sends her brain into a pounding headache. Dragon sighs and massages her temples. What would Tank say, if she saw me now? Obviously, Dragon's Brain didn't get the idea, and the continued stream of thoughts assaulted her body like a Vulcan gun. Trying to kill any attempt at thinking, Dragon looks over at Adamaris and gives his arm a half-hearted slap.
"Wake up."
Adamaris makes a sleepy noise and rolls away, his back to Dragon so she can see the fresh ink of his recent tattoo on his shoulder; a stylish black peace sign, crafted so to look like a zipper all the way around. The skin surrounding the tattoo is still red and angry looking, being only two days old, so Dragon feels slightly guilty when she reels back and gives it a loud 5-star slap. The sound shatters the blissful silence and Adamaris jolts awake with a startled crying yelp, his shoulder spazzing a bit as the red turns a deeper, meaner shade of scarlet.
"Sorry, but you didn't wake up. I thought you were dead," Dragon partly lies, speaking louder to be heard over Adamaris' curses as he tries to arch his neck and see the damage. 'It's not that bad, really!"
Adamaris tilts his head up to glare at her. "I love you, but I am not loving your sick desire to always hit me." He snips, and Dragon knows him too well at this point, that all he'll do is moan and bitch until Dragon apologizes.
"Then stop getting bombed every damn day," Dragon argues, her fingers kneading the sore spot of the tattoo. Adamaris stiffens a little, his eyes bloodshot and mistrusting until Dragon manages to work him enough to close his eyes and soften against her hand. "I need to check on Rigel soon." She brings up. She has no idea what time it is, but it just feels later in the day. Certainly not 10:00 in the morning, the time she's use to waking up at.
"In a bit. But this is nice." Adamaris purrs. Dragon scoffs, takes back her hand and struggles her way out of the bed, sheets parting from her form like water. Getting drunk –no, getting completely and totally, 100% shitfaced- is still a new feeling, so Dragon wobbles and the whole world goes topsy-turvy as she stumbles over to the door. How much did I drink? Did I even drink? She doesn't remember having a lot, doesn't remember much, actually, so whatever, fuck it. Sickness rises like a geyser in her stomach, so she falls against the door and forces the slimy bile back down her throat. Adamaris is still sitting on the bed and he laughs at her. This makes Dragon mad but she ignores it, stuffing the emotion deep down along with the bile. Her hands are clumsy on the too-shiny doorknob as she fumbles to get it open.
"The door is the easy part. Next come the stairs." Adamaris warns in a mock-wisdom tone.
The stairs are a bitch. Dragon faceplants nearly a half dozen times, saved only by the cool and collected Adamaris, who steadies her every time her legs decide this is an awesome time to just stop working. Dragon honestly can't remember much from last night, but part of her doesn't want to remember it. And she's actually sort of cool with that.
Once completing the stairs, Dragon hovers around in the living room while Adamaris parades off like the biggest drunken idiot who ever existed. The pants he's wearing, as well as the shirt, aren't his own but are tight and ripped so Dragon figures he doesn't care much. Taking a look around, the room is littered with wasted bodies, sleeping off a rough night of festivities. The couches, chairs, even the floor and under the coffee table are covered with napping teenagers. Dragon spots a clock, the bright red digital reading an incredibly late 1:30 in the afternoon.
"Yeah, great time, man. Sorry about your bottle openers, I'm sure they'll turn up."
"I'm fucking pissed I lost those…..glad you had fun, dude see you next week."
A happy-looking Adamaris and exhausted Charlie come back into the living room, and by now Dragon wants to sleep in her own bed or at least take a yearlong shower to wash off the boy smell. Yet she keeps her mouth shut as the two guys do that stupid 'bro hug' thing before Adamaris takes Dragon's hand and leads her past the sleepovers and out the door. The Camaro is parked in the driveway, perfectly black and gleaming in the radiant sunlight.
The second Dragon opens the door and flounders in, she is eternally grateful for tinted windows. And sunglasses. Dragon places the aviators perfectly over her eyes and the resulting extra darkness pleases every inch of her tired body. Adamaris is less than graceful when he gets in, and Dragon instantly senses something is wrong. It's in his body language- the stiffening of his shoulders, the taunt lines on his face, the way his pupils still have not diminished to normal size. Maternal instinct –or whatever it is- kicks in and Dragon reaches over to place the palm of her hand against his forehead. The rush of heat and slick of sweat is alarming, burning almost, and Dragon jerks back as if she got 3rd degree burns.
"Hey, are you alright? You're burning up." Dragon says, her voice breaking with a slight edge of hangover-induced hysteria. Adamaris grunts and starts the engine, the primordial bellow of the machine causing both kids to flinch.
"I'm fine, a little hangover that's it." Adamaris reassures, but he isn't smiling and his right hand is tight and fisted across his stomach. Dragon leans back in the seat, worry boiling in her as the air conditioner blows painfully cold wind into her face. Every now and then she glances over at Adamaris, who continues to wiggle and writhe in his seat, as if something has a hold on his spine and is trying to yank it out through his back. The ride back seems longer than normal but they finally pull into the driveway of their apartment. Adamaris kills the engine and buries his face in his hands for a moment. His gold nail polish is picked to Hell, and there's a scratch on the back of his index finger.
"You need more sleep. Now. C'mon." Dragon orders, playing Mother as she slides out of the car, her gait still a little lopsided as she opens the driver door and helps Adamaris out. A shower would probably be great somewhere in the near future but for now, Dragon wants him up and in the cool dark of their apartment. Her key is lodged deep in her pocket but she fishes it out, Adamaris breathing heavy on her neck as she forces the key in, but to no avail.
"What the actual fuck." Dragon spits, eyes almost cross-eyed from exhaustion and recent everything. And with her luck as of late, the key falls from her fingers to ding onto the ground, and Dragon stares at it hopelessly, wishing for some Ancient Zoidian magic that she could use to telepathically get the key back up to her level.
Out of nowhere, the door suddenly bangs out, two inches from killing Dragon's face with cheap metal. Standing over seven feet tall in the doorway, Dragon lifts her head way up to the meet the snarling yellow optics of her most beloved and trusted partner on the face of this wonderful planet. Griffon. Her Organoid. He is not happy to see them, judging from the demonic growl on his lips, the anger flaming in his eyes. The yellow bits on his body are painfully bright, like miniature suns that Dragon wants to put out forever.
"I dropped my key." Dragon squeaks, looking a hot mess with her sick boytoy –who Griffon holds a crazy hatred against- and coming home without a word of where she would be. Griffon turns his sleek horned head to Adamaris, his optics making it clear what he wants to do to the boy, his silver claws making it obvious what he wants to rip out and away. Dragon holds Adamaris a little tighter, and while he was silent and dozing before, he jerks awake now and sees Griffon, giving him a tiny smile.
"Hey Griffon. Mind letting us in?" Adamaris asks sheepishly. Griffon snarls, and holds the door open with his long tail. Dragon mouths a thank you to him as she starts the trek back upstairs. The Organoid snaps his teeth.
You smell! Not just like whatever you humans drink, but you smell like him! Griffon assaults Dragon's mind and she cringes from the harsh, loud words ringing in her skull. You can't keep doing this to me, I thought you were killed. But no, worse, sleeping around with this diseased mutt! Griffon is yelling, his tail lifts to smack Adamaris on the back of the knee and he almost drops like a rock. Dragon can tell that he's getting the same verbal beatdown from Wolfgang, his Genosaurer Maxis.
"Griffon! I'm 18! I can do what I want leave me alone!" Dragon screams the second they reach the top of the stairs. Griffon stops behind her, head cocked to the side. Dragon never yells at him and while his face betrays no emotion, Dragon knows that he's shocked. "I'm fine, okay? Really. I'm fine. Go away," She continues, breathing hard, head pounding like drills. Griffon scrunches his noise, but obeys without a word and ducks into the kitchen. "That goes for you too, Wolfgang! And you, Fenrir!" Dragon hollers, calling out the Maxis and even Adamaris' own Organoid, the solitary wolf, Fenrir.
"They are all so dramatic." Adamaris laughs quietly. Dragon rolls her eyes in agreement, trudging down the hallway to his room and dumping him on the bed. The contact makes Adamaris let out a choked grunt and he rolls onto his side. Dragon draws the shade closed.
"Are you going to be okay?" She questions.
"I'll be fine, mom. Go get some sleep yourself." Adamaris yawns, waving Dragon off casually. Sleep does sound fantastic but Dragon knows she has shit to do.
"Can't. Gotta check on Rigel. Have to pay for the repair if he's done."
"You work too hard. Should have gotten Griff or Fen to do some of the work," Adamaris is struggling to stay awake now but Dragon sees the way his eyelids are falling. "They're Organoids, they gotta do something."
Dragon heads for the door. "Didn't want them to try and rebuild Rigel, he was hurt too bad." She answers. Adamaris scoffs.
"Eve, why don't you ever let anyone else do something for you?" Adamaris calls to her from the dredges of sleep, but Dragon tunes him out.
Griffon and Fenrir watch her with silent optics, yellow and blue, as she shuffles from the kitchen to the living room and back again. Every time Dragon raises her voice, Griffon snarls and bares those sharp silver teeth. Fenrir has his head on his huge paws, quiet to the ordeal.
"That's an insane! I said I only wanted the Blade Liger's body intact, I didn't need anything else." Dragon is pacing, faced with a huge 10,000 Gallo fee to get Rigel all fixed up. Dragon doesn't have this money but the mechanic on the other end is adamant about the price. The crap he's spewing about 'leaving no job left undone' has Dragon feeling 20 years older. "I clearly stated I only wanted the body intact. No rerouting, no new glass, no new blades, I didn't need any of that." Dragon is struggling to keep herself in check, so she doesn't notice Fenrir suddenly look up and trot off to Adamaris' room. Griffon watches him go but doesn't say a word.
Dragon didn't call right away. She ate a whole sleeve of crackers while explaining to Wolfgang that yes, everyone is okay and then fell asleep for 4 hours before Griffon nudged her awake. Now it was almost 6:15 and Adamaris was still sleeping.
"What if you undid everything that I didn't ask for?" Dragon pleaded. "How long until I need to pay? What! That isn't long enough for me, please, can you do another week? I need to sign up for another battle…."
Fenrir is running. His paws are thunder strikes on the floor. Dragon! He booms, the deeper timber of his voice scaring her into dropping the phone. She looks at him, demanding an answer, only to take in his scared face for something serious having happened.
"What's wrong?" She asks, heartbeat already accelerating to an unhealthy thump, ignoring the phone and the questioning voice of the mechanic as she follows after Fenrir.
Adamaris. There's something in his head, it's hurting him. And something in his back is killing him. Wolfgang feels it too, he can't move. Normally, Fenrir is the most untalkative Organoid ever, but Dragon is stricken by the panic in his mind speak and she can't throw the door to Adamaris' room open fast enough. Fenrir piles in after her, and even Griffon stands guard at the door, having hung up the phone first.
Adamaris is twisted in the sweat-dampened sheets. His skin is blushing with an unholy crimson, from his face to his neck and even to his belly. Plastered to his face and neck with sweat, his hair hangs limp and the bangs shiver along with the rest of his shuddering body. His mouth gasps open, tongue dangling from his mouth with teeth marks bloody in it from where his jaw snapped shut. The steely eyes are cloudy and murky, filmy and reduced to a sorrowful gray. His fingers clamp and twist in the sheets, his entire body contorted painfully, yet those deadened eyes won't hold onto Dragon's, and Adamaris' focus keeps slipping.
Dragon's blood runs cold and Fenrir claws the floor in worry. "Go get my phone." Dragon asks, trying to keep her voice level as she sits on the bed. Adamaris makes noises like his spine was finally ripped loose vertebrate by aching vertebrate, then attempted to be fitted through his small intestine. Dragon leans closer, and takes his hand, sweaty with a weak grip but still there, and leans forward to brush the bangs from his face.
"What happened?" Is all she thinks to say, the fear dulling all her sentences, even her speech, numbing her. "Fever? Atlas, you need to tell me what you drank last night." She lets go of his hands and places them both on either side of his cheeks, stilling his face long enough so his eyes finally meet hers. His body agonizes, curving and curling like a snake without a head.
"Y-you were t-there. You s-saw me." Adamaris chokes out, and Dragon wants to throw up, or cry, but Fenrir rushes back with a cell phone light in his jaws. The hospital is dialed before Dragon even has the phone fully in her hands. Griffon, who Dragon didn't hear leave, comes back with a washcloth that he places gently on Adamaris' forehead.
I figure if he dies, your negative thoughts will kill me too. The Organoid shrugs, using one claw to deftly maneuver Adamaris' tongue back into his mouth so his teeth won't gnaw it to pieces. Fenrir whines, ears folded back tightly against his head as Dragon curls up around the phone and gives all the information she can to the dispatcher.
And I think we've dealt with quite enough death by now. Griffon murmurs, instantly shielding Dragon's thoughts and even deafening her when Adamaris' spine undulated and tore his important wires, letting out a screech so loud that even the birds out on the roof craned their heads downward to see what was the matter.
The Doctor –Dragon didn't remember his name when he introduced himself, so she called him just that- quietly closed the door after pumping Adamaris so full of painkillers and morphine, even Wolfgang slumbered a deep sleep in the Hanger. Somewhat detached but still kinda with it, Dragon nodded along and pretended to know what The Doctor was explaining to her.
"Chloral Cyadine is a very serious drug. It has no taste and dissolves completely into liquid. Aside from fever, muscle spasms, and vomiting, larger amounts of it can burn the stomach lining and even rot the spinal cord. It's not the sort of powder you see being swapped on the street corner, but people call it Teeth since the intact pills look like little baby teeth." The Doctor explained, voice muffled behind a thick and professional-looking mustache.
"Will he be okay?" Dragon asks, her number one concern. The Doctor sighs and looks over the report he wrote, causing Dragon's heart to sink even further. She's shaking, eyes wide, Fenrir standing guard and Griffon looking neutral.
"Well, I have him on several different painkillers but Chloral Cyadine is not easily taken care of. There's two pills he needs to take orally, both in the morning and at night. He can only sleep on his side and this next part is up to you, but massage of the spine and stomach area helps relieve stress. Then there are two more pills that will rebuild the spine and his stomach. He should be on those four for at least two weeks." The Doctor rattled off.
Rebuild. Dragon closed her eyes. Everything was falling apart and everything needed to be rebuilt. Who would rebuild her when she eventually started to tear at the seams? Dragon opened her eyes. "How much will this cost?"
The Doctor gave her a puzzled stare. "Do you have health insurance?" He asked. Dragon bit her lip.
"Uhm. No." It was a matter Dragon brought up several times, but Adamaris always dismissed it, saying things like; "Honey, we are too young for that." Now look what happened.
"Oh. The cost for the pills alone will be around 1,000 Gallos, and add in the cost of my visit and the needed supplies, I would guess around 8,000 Gallos total. You'll get a bill in a bit. Any other questions?"
Dragon let that sink in. 8,000 Gallos. Tacked onto the renting bill, food and all that, plus Rigel, she didn't have that sort of money. Griffon's optics flash in worry and Dragon's hates that, the knowing that her Organoid is playing housewife when he should be out being an Organoid, a creature of unlimited ferocity. The Doctor is still waiting for an answer, hands folded in his lap, looking like he's seen this sort of fuckery too many times in his life.
"Thank you, thank you so much for coming." Dragon speaks up, extending her hand to him. Tiny tremors race like ants around her fingers and no matter how hard Dragon tries, she cannot still the busy activity her body is creating. The Doctor smiles a small smile and returns the shake.
"He'll be fine. And so will you." He promises. Dragon really wants to believe him.
The next few hours are stressful. Not only does Dragon check on Adamaris every 10 minutes, but she has phone calls to make and bills to shift through. Plus, she's tired as Hell and feeling 20 years older. A year ago, Dragon was so on top of the world, even the gods above respected her. She owned a legion of Zoids and a handful of followers; she was a religion. So much power and money, but Dragon left it all to start here. Sometimes she hated her choices.
Relax, Dragon. Want me to go get Rigel? You won't have to pay. Griffon jokes, baring those fearsome teeth. Dragon rolls her eyes and goes back to telling Jenna that everything will be all right. Jenna is Adamaris' closest friend and a not-so-secret millionaire, her father owning one of the largest Zoid production companies outside the Empire and Republic. Dragon isn't quite to the point of begging yet and keeps their financial firestorm in the dark.
"No Jenna, you don't have to come all the way here. I'll keep you up to date," Dragon says. She fiddles with a piece of paper towel she snagged from the kitchen, twisting it beneath her fingers. "If anything happens I'll call you. Okay, but don't tell his mom or dad. Can you get in touch with Leo?" The paper towel leaves a trail behind Dragon as she walks away.
Ready to hang up and marathon phone calls again, Jenna begins again. "Dragon, you sound so guilty right now. None of this is your fault." She says, gentle but still with a punch. Dragon cradles the phone, imagines ghosts in her house, and ignores the sharp roar that rips from Griffon's throat.
"Yeah, I know." Dragon answers, hanging up. The word LIAR feels burned across her shoulders, and the ghosts hover by her ear for a second longer until they fade away.
Adamaris won't take the pills. He spits them back up, hacking at the severe size of the things. Dragon doesn't blame him; the pills are huge, like pills they give to Organoids or something. He twists in the sheets, writhing, stinking up the whole room with the rancid, stale scent of feverish sickness. It isn't his fault, but taking the pills would make him feel better and for some reason, he refuses to comply. The pills are spitty and starting to lose their shape, enzymes melting the protective case that holds in the miracle liquid.
Dragon is starting to lose patience.
"It's either I give these to you, or Griffon will shove them down your throat." Dragon warns. She pops a second pill behind Adamaris' teeth but he chucks it back up again, the effort clearly draining him more than it should. Dragon signs and leans back on the bed. In another life, when Dragon was a whole lot more of a bitch, she would have struck his spine until he cried, and then made him take the pills. Back then, her compassion level was pretty much a moot point. But now she couldn't. Dragon leans forward, one hand enclosing around Adamaris' throat and applying enough pressure to make him gasp and sputter, tongue lolling out of his open jaw.
"Open wider. I can make you take these unconscious. Your choice," Dragon threatens, four wet pills resting sloppy and gross in her hand. Adamaris, to the point of suffocation, groans and complies, his mouth hanging open on a hinge wide enough for Dragon to let all four tumble down his throat. "Was that so bad? Ra, you act like a 2-year-old." Dragon says, releasing his throat and rubbing small circles at the base of his spine. Adamaris shies away at first but gradually moves into it, eyes slowly drifting shut.
"I could wish this pain onto you, but I won't 'cause that's mean," He grunts. The muscles in his body aren't working, all creaky and lopsided, head pounding hard as Zoid gunfire, hair standing on edge. "Eve, I am so fucked up right now, darling. Like, I'm seeing stars." His tongue is somewhere between wet and dry, huge and fuzzy, and everything is tinted a gorgeous shade of blue that puts the glassy surface of Windeen to shame.
"The Doctor put you on a lot of painkillers. Like, a lot. Enough to kill a lesser man." Dragon jokes, moving up to rub another wacked-out vertebrate. Fenrir is sleeping quietly in the room and the sun is going down. Everything seems so strangely peaceful that Dragon is willing to let it keep her company for an hour or two. Adamaris is calming down, his heartbeat at a more sane level, his spine no longer trying so hard to make it's own personal freedom.
"And Eve know no man is less than me," Adamaris answers, lifting a hand to flair it around, losing interest halfway through and letting it drop limply to the bed. He's quiet for a moment. "Fuck. I never said sorry. I'm sorry, Dragon, for doing this to you. Shit, you should have just left me there today. You had like, this great and awesome life before you came here and-"
Dragon opens her mouth. Adamaris does this sometimes, sulks and moans about the "awful life" he is forcing Dragon into. "Atlas, your girl is showing. She starts, but Adamaris wriggles enough to poke her, causing his own waning pain to spike up again.
"Shush, I'm talking. You said you only wanted to stay a few weeks but now I'm making you stay here. This is like those old Earth fairytales, you know? Only-" And his mouth quirks up at this, a genuine smile despite the drugs and pain. "In this fairytale, you're my princess and I'm your Dragon."
Dragon stops. Adamaris is losing out to the drugs, his will to remain awake drifting away. Dragon brushes hair from his cheek. This was nothing short of a hectic couple of days and Dragon aches from running around. What's worse is knowing that Adamaris has guilt eating away at him right now, like Dragon had so many months ago. The want to be stronger but unable to do so physically. Dragon wonders if this is what's it like to be on the opposite end of life, to not be powerful but simply content, living day to day with a few troubles. Dragon likes this new life and she smiles down at what helped her and fixed her up.
"Your more like my knight in shining armor."
A/N- Yes, I enjoy causing my characters pain and fucking with their very mental existence. Hoping this chapter didn't entirely ruin your expectations of me because hey, I gotta leave something for chapter 2! Haha.
Comment and stuff. If you want. Flames/retardation will be meet with a punch to the face. Or an equally fire flame back. I don't want to break my Macbook...Pro.