C'est La Vie (Worm/MtG) #05.5
A/N: Is done. Yay. Also it ended up getting split again but 5.6 is mostly done as well so not too bad on that front.
—
My lips pulled into a frown as I watched the wounded dinosaur as it tried, and repeatedly failed, to stalk and catch the opossum while rancid fluid leaked from its upper leg.
I'd seen and read about these velociraptors running at highway speeds, seen them pouncing on prey from tens of feet away. This one, though?
Hobbled, with its leg wounded in the leg as it was, the raptor just couldn't move fast enough to catch the marsupial when it fled away in a hurried waddle.
The pitiful scene repeated itself several times, but eventually, the raptor, exhausted and breathing heavily, collapsed into a small hollow at the base of a tall tree, its back to the pale bark as it practically steamed in the night.
Resting there for a bit, it eventually curled in on itself to lick at its leg; cleaning its injury.
The image brought back some old memories of Rachel and her dogs, back in Brockton Bay. I sat back, watching it through my bugs' grainy vision, allowing myself to reminisce.
But, while I watched the raptor, the green, chicken-sized dinosaurs began arriving.
In small packs they gathered around the raptor, either local or coming from outside my range and following the trail it had made through the underbrush while following the opossum. Over twenty minutes dozens of them assembled in the foliage and out in the open, jumping in place and chittering at the larger dinosaur, growing braver as more and more arrived.
Procompsognathus, 'Compy's', they had been called in the files.
Their growing numbers drew me from my reminiscing and I sat up, a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Scavengers, the files had described them as, and meant to keep the island clean of the literal tons of crap left by the larger animals and any remains of animals that had died.
Their presence might have told me the raptor was close to death, if not for the fact that they were also opportunistic predators that had a venomous bite, a serotonin laced saliva that would let them eat the raptor alive while it was too stoned to react.
Eventually they would move on the raptor. Maybe just a few at a time at first, small groups that would jump in while keeping out of range and jumping away when the raptor tiredly snapped at those that got too close.
It wasn't difficult to see what they were doing. A simple strategy; it was already tired, and now they were wearing it down until it could no longer fight back. And when that time came…
The mental image came to me unprompted: the little ones jumping in, landing bites until it could no longer fight back and they fell upon it like a tide of green, consuming it while it was still alive, still conscious but unable to do anything. Unable to move while it was pulled apart piece by piece.
And velociraptors were hardy; how long would it endure that before it died?
Massing disparate swarms of fliers I drove them into the scavengers, scattering the little dinosaurs and driving them back to the very edge of my range. The raptor's increasing struggles to rise despite the scavengers being driven off drew my attention.
My attention shifted to focus on it, its previous fate set aside as a suspicion formed. I watched as it kicked up leaves and dirt, digging a trough in the soil in a weak attempt to rise, head looking in the direction the bulk of swarm had gone. In watching it, another detail stood out: its size. Compared to all but one of the raptors I had seen, it was small.
In cleaning up the aftermath of the attack on Artur's team, I'd been unable to account for one that had been shot at by Artur's commander. Maybe five feet tall and twelve feet in length, it certainly fit what I had seen of the survivor.
I had thought it would have bled out after fleeing, but... apparently not. Knowing what I now knew about the species, about their fortitude, and considering this one's injury, this was probably that individual.
Testing my hypothesis, I drew together a swarm and it sat up, watched the swarm with its lips curled back, then dispersing my bugs it eventually settled down again; though, even after several minutes it didn't relax as it had before and instead constantly glanced about its surroundings.
It was confirmation enough that it was the last of the pack that had been following me and attacked Artur's group.
And it was alone.
Beyond the connotations that held for a pack animal, it also meant it had no one to help it recover or bring it food. Eventually the little ones would be back or get to it when it moved on and tried resting against some other tree. Unable to move at speed to catch food or feed itself, it would eventually succumb to a worsening infection, starvation, or predation. And not necessarily in that order.
It wouldn't be a pleasant end, not something I would wish on it; even with what it and its pack had done.
I grimaced.
It would be better off if I put it out of its misery. Distasteful, but better than being eaten alive.
A wandering spider could do it, or an uncontrolled application of the Green. Even a well-placed bullet would work, though it would be wasteful and dangerous besides. Thinking on the options available to me, though, I struck on an alternative.
The raptor had been shot, and a gunshot wound was a glorified puncture wound. That it was still alive days after the fact was a strong indicator that being shot hadn't done too much damage. However, that was only one part of the problem, and possibly the least important part. A puncture wound being what it was, there were most likely debris in the wound. Dead skin, plant matter, dirt, whatever. It could lick as long as it wanted but it couldn't get out whatever was in there.
But I could, using some Blue-infused water. I could clean it out and let its immune system handle the rest.
If there were no adverse reactions that is.
I couldn't overlook the boon the Blue-infused water could provide, but it needed to be tested. After breaking the beetle as I had… I bit my lower lip. That would have been the kind of thing that would have seen my use of the Blue be limited to non-organic contact, and for a legitimate reason beyond it 'looking bad'.
Could the blue be absorbed through osmosis, or through bodily contact? My prosthetic was an indication that it didn't, but that was only skin contact, what about an open wound?
Depending on the answer, it opened up options. A beneficial use to the power beyond offensive or defensive applications.
Healing instead of harm.
But, until I knew more I couldn't say for certain. The Green was capable of growing things beyond their natural limit, but save for some sort of mental interaction, I couldn't even begin to guess what the Blue could do provided sufficient saturation.
Sitting back I removed my glasses, rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. The lack of sleep had to be getting to me. I could just hear Brian telling me what a bad idea this was, and the logic was flimsy, but…
I ran a hand back through my hair and, pushing my chair back from the table, I stood. Leaving the command center, I stepped into the dark hall, turning left and heading towards the storeroom at the end I ran through a mental inventory of what had been in stock.
-I-
I took my time heading out to where the velociraptor was resting. Walking through the oversized and overgrown airlock style gate, I turned off the road and entered the lightless jungle with the faintly glowing sphere of water trailing behind me. Constantly monitoring the raptor, I slowed my pace to a near crawl on the approach. It still heard me.
Sitting up a bit and looking in the direction I was approaching from, golden eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness locking onto me the moment I stepped out into the open. Hissing, it struggled to rise before its injured leg gave out and falling in an ungainly sprawl it let out a warbling cry, but despite whatever pain it was in it tried to get up anyway.
Whether it was an attempt at an attack or a threat display, I didn't need it making its condition any worse than it already was. Tagging it with my bugs, I pulled at the medicine ball-sized sphere of roiling currents suspended behind me and streams of Blue-infused water whipped past to ensnare the dinosaur. Faintly glowing cords trapped foreclaws against its chest, bound its legs to secure its hooked toe claw, and muzzled it just as it got out a raspy, warbling call.
Snorting, head shaking, its muscles bulged as it strained against the bindings. I was forced to hold it to the ground to keep it from breaking free and reinforced the bindings further.
A slit pupil contracted into a thin line as I walked closer and, snorting into the ground, its struggles grew.
It was afraid, in pain, and experiencing something it never had before. The situation was familiar; I thought back to Rachel and her shelter, before Leviathan's attack on Brockton bay. Taking another slow step forward I knelt, maintaining eye contact with the snarling dinosaur while surreptitiously running an umbilical from my prosthetic to the bindings to keep the bindings charged.
Maybe it would stop resisting, but if calming it down didn't work, I'd just tire it out.
Getting comfortable I examined the dinosaur as best I could in the dark, the glow from the Blue-infused water helping only slightly. Much like the others of the pack, prior to dealing with their remains, its pebbled hide was littered with old and new scars that crisscrossed the tiger-stripe-like patterns on its sides and back. However, my attention was drawn to the top of its haunch and the faintly oozing wound there.
Landing a few flies and other fliers in the vicinity, I got a 'taste' of what was going on. Covered in foamy saliva from its licking, the surrounding tissue was swollen and warmer than the rest of it.
Inflamed, and definitely infected, but not septic. Not yet.
The gunshot wound being what it was, it wouldn't matter how long it licked it if there was foreign matter in the wound and, given that it lacked an exit wound, there almost certainly was. Maybe the wound would heal around the bullet, eventually, if it survived, but the chances would be better if I got it out and flushed out whatever may have gotten into the wound.
Sealing it would be an issue, but I doubted it was going to just leave stitches be. It would have to depend on whatever antibacterial properties its saliva had.
It took several minutes for the dinosaur to exhaust itself enough that it stopped resisting, though it didn't take its eye off me. Beaten, but not defeated.
Commendable, but really not what I needed right now.
Further drawing from the Impression of Visitor Center's lab, the marble in the back of my mind dimmed as mist seeped through the red-brown gauze wrapping my prosthetic. Pulling on the bindings in my swarm sense, the dinosaur began to rise on a thin bed of water spread out beneath it. Its struggles renewed as the ground fell away, though its movements were weaker than before.
It was a balancing act, keeping it as immobilized as possible while moving the water in conjunction with its movements so as to not strain it.
Still, troublesome as it was, I didn't rush getting back to the enclosure; if I took my time, it would continue tiring itself out, hopefully leaving it more placable when I got to work.
Though, carrying two hundred-odd pounds of theropod wasn't easy; doing so sipped away at my still regenerating reserves. By the time I entered the enclosure, the Impression of the lab in the back of my mind had darkened and I had been left to tap into the Impression of the cove.
I set the raptor down on a tarp staked to the ground, which itself had been liberally cleared of vegetation, and repositioned the whiptail overhead, tilting the lantern it carried to better illuminate the work area I'd set up. Sitting down beside a water cooler jug taken from the office, I crossed my legs and touched the glass to check the temperature: lukewarm. Cool enough.
Drawing on the Impression of the cove I saturated the jug until it glowed and got to work.
The first thing is getting that bullet out and seeing what the damage is.
There was only a limited supply of sanitary water. I had to be efficient with what I had and make it count.
A small sliver of glowing water, a sliver of luminescence, rose through the mouth of the jug and, as I maintained eye contact with the raptor, was sent into the puckered wound.
For a few moments, there was little reaction on the raptor's part, then the probe began encountering obstructions.
Solidified pus, dead tissue— whatever it was, I was forced to break through whatever got in my way and the raptor clearly felt the probe going deeper and deeper. It kicked and squirmed against the tarp, hissing through the muzzle. I had been ready though, and locking the bindings' movement I kept it as immobilized as possible so as to not inadvertently tear its leg apart with the probe.
I was well aware of how much damage a spatially immobilized object could do to a moving target.
I was forced to wait and eventually the velociraptor ceased struggling, resorting to glaring at me with a half-lidded eye that fluttered shut every so often. It's breathing, even more than before, was labored and rasping.
It gave me the impression that it was finally succumbing to exhaustion. That, or it was faking it, and was biding its time. It wouldn't even be unprecedented with some of the things they had done to escape captivity. Trying to trick their handlers was at the bottom of that list.
Gradually working the probe deeper and deeper into the wound, I found a resistant mass three and a half inches in. The bullet; A slug, fortunately for the raptor.
The sphere of water at my back shrank a bit further, discreetly reinforcing the bindings to give them a larger surface area. Then I drew more water from the jug and as I sent it into the wound, the raptor bucked. Again I kept it as still as I could while I worked, going so far as to spread the water out to the point the raptor was practically covered in it while I worked the deformed mass out of the wound over the course of a minute.
It was slow work, I re-opened the wound fairly thoroughly, but eventually, it came out followed by a thick stream of foul orange pus speckled with crap that had broken free in the cavity.
I didn't slow down or wait for it to recuperate. Drawing on the water in the jug, a narrow stream of water flowed from the bottle's mouth, through the air, and into the wound, going deep before spreading out into the surrounding flesh and soaking up every bit of pus and foreign matter. All the while the raptor stared back at me, though, occasionally, its tired eyes locked on the flowing water; it watched as the water went in clean and came out contaminated, its nose flaring when it did.
I slowly repeated the process over and over again, cycling out fetid, yellow, green, and red choked streams of water while monitoring the Blue as best as I could for any sign it was being absorbed into the tissues. With energy lost simply by moving the Blue-infused water, it was difficult to say, but it seemed that some was being absorbed when it stayed in one spot for too long; though only a minuscule fraction of a percent. An amount that I wanted to say seemed negligible, I couldn't feel anything happening with it, but couldn't say for certain. Still, it seemed safe, like the usual traces of lead in drinking water. Maybe not healthy, but probably not harmful.
At some point, while I was cleaning the wound something seemed to 'click' for the predator, and for the most part, it stopped resisting with an air of weary resignation. The raptor only resisted again in earnest when I had to press on the surrounding tissue in search of any hidden abscesses that might ruin my work.
I kept at it until the wound wept clear and the remaining water channeled through the wound remained clean.
As the jug finally ran dry I sat back and sighed.
All said and done, the entire procedure took around twenty minutes.
I could barely imagine the nightmare it would have been for any veterinarians trying to do this.
Grabbing the now empty jug by its neck and the bucket by its handle, I disconnected the umbilical to my prosthetic, stood, and backed away from the raptor.
It and I maintained eye contact until the foliage broke line of sight then I turned on my heel, leaving the enclosure through the tall side-sliding gate I'd opened up to gain access to the yard space.
As I stepped through the last of the Blue infused water I had on hand shot out from the small of my back and, spreading it out along the door, I began pushing it shut. Rolling on its track, the heavy steel door rattled slightly and its rusty wheels squealed until it shut with the muted sound of metal hitting metal.
Only then did I release the velociraptor and draw the water back to me.
For a few moments it laid there, seemingly asleep or too tired to move. But then, shifting in place it and discovering it wasn't bound, it was quick to get up— albeit slowly. Standing on the tarp, the old plasticized fabric crinkled underfoot as it shifted, turned to sniff at its wound, then hobbling off the tarp the raptor entered the foliage. Sniffing at the air and plants, it kicking at the soil while moving through the enclosure and quickly enough it reached the vine-shrouded wall, easing itself down with its back to it after hobbling along its length for a few yards.
Once the raptor settled I withdrew the whiptail and sent it out to gather some vermin I had located and begun tracking while setting up. It wasn't a whole cow, but a couple dozen rats would probably do the raptor some good.
Settled in it stuck its snout to the now cleaned wound, sniffed few times, then began to slowly lick at it… like a dog, really. A big, murderous, hyper-intelligent dog.
Turning up a ramp I crossed the loading dock and re-entered the command center.
What it did now was up to it. Maybe with some positive association, it would learn not to be so aggressive towards humans, but if it didn't, well…
Maybe it was all wishful thinking.
—
A/N: It's a shame, she may be thinking to reinvent herself and expand her repertoire beyond conflict based applications, but as the old adage goes: "The more things change, the more they stay the same."
Pat-reon to feed me caffeine.