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Snippet #2579623

located in The Wicked, a part of Wicked Ones, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Wicked

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow
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Gemma strolled through the beast-shaped hole in the wall and into the home of the Wickeds, still managing to maintain her baroness swagger, even though she was missing an arm and carrying a kid. She paid no mind to the dozen or so heads that spun in her direction as she entered, their gazes icing over into steely leers.

Eyeing a nearby counter, she gently lay down the small silverish suitcase that contained the fruits of her precious research, juggling Huey's weight whilst she did so. Though she exuded an air of machine-like emotional consistency and confidence, now that she had finally arrived at her destination, she was becoming increasingly aware of the dire urgency of Huey's condition with every passing second. There seemed to be moments where he would stop breathing altogether, though if she listened intently, she could hear the faint wheeze of his diaphragm struggling to draw in the necessary oxygen.

That's when someone approached her from behind.

"What do you think you're doing here?"

Leaving the suitcase on the counter, Gemma turned, adjusting her stance so as to more comfortably support Huey's weight. Before her stood what she could only assume were one of the Wickeds. Judging by his tone and the arrogant way he carried himself, he was probably new. She certainly didn't recognize him at least. Then again, she hadn't been by in a while.

Inevitably, Gemma's gaze fell to the guy's right arm. She needed an arm right about now, and this guy seemed to have more arms than necessary.

"You're trespassing," the guy continued, puffing out his chest. "Leave, before we make you leave."

His words were like a call to action to several others in the room, most of whom stood, menacing looks on their faces. Gemma recognized none of them. Maybe she'd been gone for longer than she thought. She returned her attention to the guy standing in front of her. A Wicked. He was as tall as she was, which was... interesting. It also meant she couldn't look down at him.

"Right," her tone was so exceedingly dismissive that the guy flinched back a bit, as if from a slap. She then turned her head away from him, refusing to acknowledge his existence any longer. "You there. Girl." Gemma motioned with her chin to the Wicked closest to the hall she knew led to the inner reaches of the headquarters. The place certainly had a new look to it since the last time she'd hung around, but thankfully the inner hall was still the same homey little cut-out in the wall. "Be a dear and fetch Morgan for me, hmm?"

It was not a question. Yet, the girl didn't move. She held her ground, looking around at the others as if for confirmation. Gemma sighed bitterly, side-stepping the Wicked that stood before her and making her way towards the inner hall. "I do not have time for this impudence," she muttered to herself, her pace brisk but measured. However, before she could make it more than a few steps towards the hall, she was stopped by a hard hand on her shoulder.

"You're not getting past us." Came the guy's coarse voice from behind her. Gemma froze mid-step. "Leave, lady." She paused not because of the fingers digging into what remained of her right shoulder, but because Huey had let out a small yelp. In using his hand to arrest her momentum so suddenly, the male Wicked had caused Huey a modicum of discomfort, enough to be painful. It was something she'd been artfully avoiding by carefully pacing her steps and choosing her footfalls during her hour-long journey here, and it had all been ruined by this punk and his bravado.

Not that she didn't understand where he was coming from. He didn't know her. She was missing an arm, looked generally disheveled with dried blood running down her front side, and just appeared through a hole in the wall. Still, that was no reason to be rude.

Pivoting on her heel with all the grace of a robotic arm on an assembly line, Gemma delivered a swift kick to the Wicked's abdomen, sending him flying backwards and out through the hole from which she'd first emerged. She didn't exactly mean to kick him so hard, but she was growing tired of wasting what remained of Huey's time.

"Bring me Morgan," she commanded again, her voice cold and hard, this time directing her wish to the room at large. "Now." Gemma pursed her lips in annoyance when, instead of unilaterally obeying her, four other Wickeds decided to advance, surrounding her. She narrowed her eyes.

If she had to set Huey down for this, she'd definitely be taking a few arms today.

That's when someone cleared their throat. Gemma heard it first and so reacted first, her eyes snapping to the figure who stood hall's entrance. It was Morgan.

At the same time she recognized him, she could tell that he'd recognized her. "Dammit! Now isn't a good time Gemma—" He paused when he noticed the veteran Wicked's sad state of affairs.

"Hello to you too, my dear Morgan." She said, filling in the silence. "Now, if you wouldn't mind..." She shifted Huey's weight slightly, putting her bloody shirt and general armlessness on full display for all to see.

"Shit. Let her through everyone, can't you see she's injured while carrying another injured person? Follow me." He beckoned her forward and she followed, matching his quick pace whilst taking care not to jostle Huey's injured body. As they approached what she knew to be the infirmary in general silence, she could tell that some matter was weighing heavily on Morgan's psyche. It was rare to see him in such an... oddly unpredictable state. Something was riling him up and he seemed liable to pop off at any moment.

Interesting.

They entered the infirmary and, at Morgan's direction, Gemma lay Huey's body down as gently as possible, bending her knees and leaning over so as to become level with the bed. Huey's arms, which were interlocked around her neck, came apart easily as he'd long since lost consciousness.

Gemma nodded at Morgan's next assertion, looking down at her remaining arm. Her fingers were twitching slightly, which meant she was dangerously low on energy—so much so that she was starting to lose control over her extremities. Perhaps that sniper had done more damage than she'd initially thought. She was thankful that Morgan was here to help. It would have been annoying trying to operate on the kid by her lonesome, which is why she came here ahead of schedule in the first place.

As Morgan began sterilizing the area around Huey's belly, thick red blood oozed up out of his wound. Gemma frowned in worry, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. He was burning up.

"So what's your relationship with this kid Neer?" Morgan asked, his voice calm. "He isn't one of your experiments, is he?"

She opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative that Huey was indeed one of her experiments, but a rapid series of thoughts gave her pause. She removed her hand from Huey's forehead and stared at it. It was slightly damp with his sweat.

Why was she so worried, anyway? Why had she expended the extra energy in carrying him here? Why hadn't she just discarded him, like any other experiment that'd run its course? He's just another subject. She'd run hundreds of thousands of experiments in the past, many of them on human subject, so what made this one any different? The only other subject she ever truly cared for from more than a goal-oriented perspective was...

Gemma took a step back, looking at Morgan. The struggle evident in his bespectacled face as he cleaned Huey's wound.

"I'm not sure," she said in answer to his question. "I'm not sure what he is to me at all." The beginnings of a grin pulled at her lips. "It's quite fascinating, really."

That's when a familiar old man took the reigns, shooing Morgan and Gemma away as he went to work on repairing Huey's damaged body. Morgan hesitated before relenting, eventually taking a seat next to another occupied bed in the infirmary. Gemma walked up to stand beside him. In the bed was a Wicked she recognized all too well.

She sniffed at the air. "Ah, so that's who I smelled in the warehouse. You went and got your bloody magician injured, though his condition seems stable. Nice. I won't inquire as to what manner of trouble you two have gotten yourselves into just yet." She winked overtly before spotting Esme. "Oh. And his faith healer is here, too. A shame she can't make me a new arm, huh?"

"Well should we be worried about that arm of yours Gemma?"

Gemma smiled lightly, her legs growing tired. "The wound is slowly hemorrhaging liquids, but I'll be fine once I find a spot to set up my lab." Her mechanical stomach was incapable of "rumbling," but if it could, the roar of it would be audible for miles. "I am a tad parched, though. I would make my way towards the kitchen, but I fear you haven't potty-trained these new Wickeds of yours." She raised the back of her hand as if preparing to slap the air in front of her. "Though I'm not above doling out a few object lessons."