So if you didn't notice, the rating has been changed to M. It's for excessive gore, not, um, other things...
Fully lizard-formed in his grief and anger, Chase crashed through the glass doors of the hospital. Those sitting in the waiting room scattered, screaming in fear and scrambling over one another in an attempt to save themselves.
Ja- the body would be in the mortuary, downstairs and away from any other patients. He ignored the humans cowering behind chairs -Hah. As if those could save them if he chose to attack- and rushed into the main hall.
A man stood in his way. What sort of foolish mortal stood in his way!? He roared angrily, but the man -a doctor, judging by the clinically white lab coat and scrubs he wore- refused to move! Then, the poor idiot sealed his fate. He dared to attack him!
The doctor threw whatever he could find at the hideous beast advancing on him. He would be dammed if he let this monster hurt any of his patients! He would sooner die than let-
A clawed hand tore into his chest, straight through his ribs, and clenched the vital organ located there, which all but exploded in Chase's grip, spattering blood around the room. He threw the now-limp body into the wall face first, where it hit with a squelch, and slid down slowly, leaving a thick streak of red.
The small portion of his brain that seemed to still be rational noted that had he simply entered as a human and asked to see Jack's body, he wouldn't have had to go through all of this trouble.
He ignored it.
If there was anyone who hadn't been terrified before, they certainly were now. Any semblance of rationality was gone now, there was only an angry, vicious beast, eager for an excuse to sink his teeth and claws into a warm, fleshy human, to rip and tear and gorge himself on their organs while they screamed.
This was a side that Chase himself thought too atrocious to be released, and until this moment, he had never once relinquished his control. Now, however, things had changed.
The hall was deathly silent, everyone having fled at the sight of him tearing out that man's heart. The chemical scent that seemed to be a constant in hospitals burned his nostrils and made it substantially more difficult to locate his Jack, but he did, following the faint trace of the boy's smell, heavy claws gouging holes in the linoleum tiles, tail lashing from side to side in irritation.
Someone had initiated a lockdown. If he had checked any of the closed doors lining the hallways, he would have found them locked. Of course, he would have then ripped the door off of its hinges and entered anyway, so it really didn't make much of a difference whether the door was sealed or not.
Regardless, he was met with no further obstacles on his quest, and the lack of mortal presence made it that much easier to locate the room in which Jack was being stored.
His razor sharp claws tore through the foot-thick steel door like it was empty air, easily slicing himself an opening. The cold air of the room gave him pause, he was coldblooded in this form after all, but he only considered this for a second before he was inside.
Jack, having died very recently, had not yet been placed into one of the cubicles. He was stretched out, broken and bloody, on the sterile metal table in the center of the room.
Chase's heart siezed up, and he felt all of his anger dissipate in an instant, leaving him with a cold, hollow feeling in his chest.
The cause of death was apparent on sight. Whatever accident there had been, it had been bad. There were long, jagged cuts across his torso from where shrapnel had punctured, likely causing severe internal damage. Too, his head lay at an unnatural angle, neck broken.
Chase honestly felt like crying all over again as he shrunk rapidly, returning to his human shape. He held the body to him gently, brushing Jack's bright red hair out of his face.
Up until this point, he had thought himself incapable of experiencing grief.
It was strange. He had gone for fifteen hundred years without Jack Spicer, and he had gotten along just fine. Now, however, he couldn't stand the thought of a single day without the genius.
Even then, he knew what had to be done.
It was a simple matter to teleport home. He commanded his warriors to bring him the necessary supplies.
It would do no good to have Jack returning to an injured body, after all.
The repairs were grisly and time consuming, forcing Chase to nearly deplete his supply of magic. The organs were first, of course. The boy's stomach had been cut nearly in half, leaking corrosive acid onto important muscle and tissue. He sealed the hole with magic, then spread a special tincture around the area that had been damaged, ensuring the eroded area would return to normal almost immediately.
His liver had practically been sliced to ribbons. Chase grimaced at the sight of it, and made absolutely certain it was fully repaired before moving on.
The only other internal portion that had been damage extensively was Jack's lung, and Chase thanked whatever gods were listening that whatever had hit Jack hadn't been a few centimeters to the left, because if his heart had been damaged, there would have been no saving him.
That, too, was healed quickly.
The external wounds were much easier, thankfully. Chase was far from a trained healer, but with a little magic, the deep wounds were reduced to scar tissue in minutes, and broken bones were mended quickly and efficiently. Blood loss, too, was easily dealt with, returning Spicer to his normal pallor.
Now, Jack could be merely sleeping, not dead.
Making a mental not to have his warriors change the bedding (it had been covered in blood, unfortunately), Chase cast a quick preservation spell on the body, ensuring that, even if he was gone for years, it would not begin to rot.
In a whirl of Heylin magic, he disappeared once more.
As a side note, I'm looking for someone who's willing to beta read a new story. It's going to be pretty long, but if you're interested, PM me!