Host enters the clinic to chaos, stopping in the doorway, the raised voices throwing him for a moment. Anger and panic are heavy in the air, and though Natemare isn't visible, the Host can sense his presence somewhere nearby. He can hardly blame the spirit for stepping back.
As he steps forward, the Host doesn't hesitate to remove the gun from Wilford's hand, placing his own on the pink man's shoulder in an attempt to try and calm his anger, while receiving an understanding of what's going on in return.
Bing is in a bad way, to put it mildly. You can hardly call him a cyborg now, practically every robotic part having been removed while he's attached to an external life support that Wilford brought with him. Even such a small, simple journey has apparently put a huge amount of stress on Bing's body.
The Host doesn't have a large understanding of Natemare's powers, but through Wilford's eyes, he sees the explanation the spirit gave about Bing's mental state and the anger that even now is flying between the Doctor and Google over what to do next. Bing needs to be awoken but he's barely stable. Waking him could send him into shock, or worse. From Natemare's explanation, leaving him in there is no better. It would appear to be a decision of trial by fire or trial by drowning.
Dr Iplier moves as the Host steps to Bing's side, taking a hold of the boy's hand and trying to see inside his mind. Perhaps there's something he can do to help, but it's useless. Bing's mind is protected, surrounded by a writhing black mass that lashes out whenever the Host attempts to draw near. An educated guess would make that the nightmare Bing is trapped in.
Removing his hand, the Host attempts to mediate, or at the very least find some kind of compromise between the two increasingly angry parties, but it would seem that in everybody's panic they are unable to think beyond the immediate confines of their own decision.
His own anger rises, and he's two minutes from using his powers against the pair of them when he feels an all too familiar darkness, one that sends shivers down his spine. It passes over them, all of them, swathing them all in a terrifyingly familiar calming presence of pure black. Host can't help but to stumble back in fear at the sensation, caught unawares by a pair of hands clasping his shoulders and holding him in place. Wilford, he learns as he reaches to touch one of the hands. Through Wilford's eyes, Host sees what everyone else can, hearing the silence that's fallen over them all, making way for the high-pitched ringing.
On the far end of the room stands Dark, his eyes closed, his head bowed and the darkness that surrounds them emanating from him in waves. Knowing the origin of this darkness, the Host comes back to himself. It's not what he thought. He's safe. It's not him.
"Natemare." Host calls and the spirit manifests at Bing's head. "Wake Bing up now." He knows what Dark is trying to do, as does Google and Wilford, though the younger egos are simply shocked into silence.
"But what about-?" Mare is cut off by Google who is suddenly moving with purpose, gathering what he can and moving round to begin repairing the essential parts of Bing while they have the chance.
"Just do it."
Mare places a hand on either side of Bing's head, closing his eyes, and within seconds, Bing's left eye goes wide, taking a deep breath as though he's about to start screaming, but Dark steps forward, those gathered around the bed moving away as Dark raises his hand and the darkness around them gets stronger. It's wrapped around them all like coats that are too tight but they watch as the blackness visibly seeps into the poor cyborg's brain and he gently sighs as he calms into a much less harmful sleep.
Dark's aura, the distortion, the darkness that follows him everywhere is what currently surrounds them all. It's a being of great power, of great possibility and Dark barely has a handle on it, allowing it to just surround him, using him as an anchor in this world and acting as it sees fit. Host has only seen the grey ego purposefully use it a handful of times, and each time they have watched it fight him every step of the way. Even now, they can all see Dark's hand wavering as he tries to centre it around Bing's mind, keeping the cyborg from further injury allowing Google to make it so Bing will function without the external life support.
The other three droids step forward, joining their brother in reconstructing Bing's chest, working swiftly and in perfect unison, presumably communicating over their private network as no words pass between them. Wilford still has his hands on the Host, which honestly the Host is grateful for. Dark is not the only one with access to this power and Host's last encounter with the other one he knows has access to it…let's just say it doesn't class as a win. Losing your eyes usually doesn't. Host will never forget how it feels to be surrounded, to feel completely at the mercy of this power. Some nights it still haunts him to the point of screaming, but being able to see through Wilford's eyes that it's not coming from Him, is enough to help him remain calm.
Time both drags and races, the only real indicator that any time is passing is the visibly increasing strain on Dark as he fights to maintain the aura around them. Where before it was pulsing out from him, each of them can feel it trying to draw back, watching as the look of determination on Dark's face only becomes more and more so. Sweat is starting to drip down Dark's face, and through his contact with Wilford, the Host can feel the pink man's need to do something to help his friend.
"Google." is all Wilford says, the concern in his voice matching the stress in the room. The ringing is getting higher and higher, and any moment now, Host worries that it's going to snap and everything will have been for naught. The robots don't respond, continuing to work.
Dark takes a firm grip of the end of the gurney, his grey knuckles turning a stark white, his raised hand falling slightly. All facade of calm and control has gone, nothing but pain and strain as he tries to hold on for every last second he can get them.
After what feels like an age, Google yells for Dark to stop and he can't help it, he lets the aura go, every last one of them in the room feeling it rush past them and return to where it decides it wants to be. Wilford's hands are gone from the Host, the pink man having rushed over to catch Dark as he fell, holding him up. Dark's grey skin looks pale, though he remains conscious as he grasps tightly to his friend. Standing up is going to be difficult for a while.
"Wh-what happened?" comes a small voice from the bed.
Bing's chest looks practically whole again, though his right eye, arm, and leg are still gone, and the poor boy looks so lost as he glances over the gathered egos around him."D-Did I kill s-someone else?"
The collective sigh of relief never happens as everyone realises that first, that's not something Bing should be saying, and second, Natemare has suddenly made himself scarce.