Welcome to Gaia! ::

Randy heard the voice after he felt the touch, and he twisted in the cop's grasp, ramming his bony shoulder into Roger's chest, blowing the wind out of him as he was slammed against the wall, before twirling to hiss menacingly at Raven, his neck-frill shaking violently as this new threat faced him.

"Sssssmart b***h! Bitchessss and pigssss and ******** and ********, ******** you sssmart bitchesss, i'm gonna ******** you ******** you ******** yoooou!!"

He was trying desperately to bite Raven's face off, his maw opening to reveal rows of stunted little teeth lining his jaw. He didn't have fangs like a snake, but that wasn't going to stop him from biting this smart little b***h's face off and throwing it against the window so the b***h inside would get him his ******** pills...

The energy she drank from the lizard man was borne of a primal instinct - a base desire to want, to need something, and the will one had to grasp it. It was the same will, the same power, that a person grasped when drowning to find that burst of strength to reach the surface, the surge of adrenaline that made everything stand out in technicolor as your felt the knife enter your flesh, willing your body to respond with as much force as it could muster...very raw, very powerful...and very easy to burn.

Plus the memories. Born from a sprawling litter of fifty, Randy's first thought was of fleeing his own father, who suspected his mother of an affair, though the baby lizard did not understand this. No, reptilian people did not eat their young...but they could be as brutal and vicious as humans or any other species. And a reptilian male being forced to raise a brood he suspected was not his own was not a kind male.

Then there was the gangs. The street violence. The petty thefts, the woman with the nice smile and the pills. Then there was only the next fix. It was an insatiable need, like a lungful of fresh oxygen after being stuck in a stale room - but the pleasure it delivered was weaker after every trip, and the need only grew stronger. So he took stronger s**t from the woman with the nice smile. And the need grew stronger. So he took stronger s**t. And soon he was reduced to this slathering beast, who would sell his own mother for a shot of smack.

He'd tried to fake his way through life. Found a woman who was meek enough to not stand up to him, even help him score occasionally. She had been sweet before, but he had sucked the sweetness out of her, and now she was flavorless to him. Only the score remained. Even when she sold herself did his vestigial heart beat only once in sorrow, before the monkey on his back grabbed him by his frill and yanked him back to reality - she was scoring them smack. Their fix. His fix. And he'd sell every hole she had to get his fix.

Randy, unfortunately, was so lost he was irredeemable. His once keen intellect and a passion for drawing had been quelled in his teens by life in a city, and now he lay panting and foaming on the ground, his arm only held up by Raven's grasp as she took what little power his feverish need had given him.

"Oh god...god..." The female cop said as his talons sluiced out of her forearms, the tough skin now flayed strips of meat. They should have put the gloves on him, she thought as she slumped against the wall, doctors rushing to her aid to stem the bleeding and pump healing magic into her.

Roger was now kneeling on Randy's back, the Tazer now pressed against his neck, and he looked up to Hono'o urgently. "Let him go doc, I got him now, let him go - "

When Randy opened his eyes next, it would be like he'd just been pulled from a thick fog. The smoke had obscured his vision, hampered his movements, made him second guess every decision in his life from the time he'd gotten lost within until this very moment, when it was blown away to reveal the world around him.

And even with Roger stamping on his neck and pulling his arms tighter together to fasten the cuffs around his wrists so tight they cut off the circulation, Randy's eyes flooded with tears of joy....for, for the first time in what seemed his entire life, he knew clarity, true clarity.

And it was glorious.

The doctors who had rushed to the woman's aid fell back at Hono'o's command. When one quells a raving lunatic with a simple touch, you gave her all the room in the world. "Please..." The cop croaked, lifting her bloodied arms to Hono'o. "Please..."

And as Hono'o dealt with all the problems around her like a saint of mercy, tired and exhausted but still helping all she could, the gurney the paramedic had been wheeling disappeared around a corner, into the dark recesses of the hospital, to join the many thousands of other beds strewn across the wards...

And just like that, the din of the place grew smaller.

People were complaining less. The injured lowered their wails to quiet whimpers. Doctors were able to speak their orders instead of barking them. And the entire ward seemed to dissuade into an orderly fashion.

The female policewoman watched in disturbed fasination as her own wounds slowly melted back together, strings of shredded muscle knitting into each other, the skin slowly coming back together like melded plastic. When the task was done, she flexed her fingers back and forth, almost as unsure of the truth of it as the fact that it was real - before she smiled up to Hono'o. If you were on a Gaian police force, you'd seen your fair share of strange and wonderful things - your own muscle and skin growing back into itself was low on the list. "Thanks..." She said gratefully, pushing herself up onto her feet, her pants and shirt still sticky with her own blood. "I owe you one, doc..."

The memory of the pain remained, but like all physical pain, now the injuries were mended, they would fade quickly, leaving no residual effects. The cop looked to her partner, who had hauled Randy to his feet, where he hung in Roger's grip loosely, still sobbing uncontrollably. "C'mon, lets get him to the rehab..."

And they were gone. The hospital around her was now flowing like a well oiled machine - now everybody had gotten a chance to pause and take a breath, the path to reward was made clear. Doctors were treating more patients, patients were being moved on, and in only half an hour, the ward would be almost cleared...

...And Raven could resume her task.

((Hehe...the sooner the better, seeing as Raven might not be the only one looking for a soulless body... but i'll play this as long as you wish! whee ))

"Yo, some help ova heah!"

Three men had just walked into the emergency ward, all wearing expensive Italian suits. The man in the middle, shorter then the others, was smoking a large cigar and holding a tablecloth against his belly, his pin-stripe suit opened down the front to reveal his strong chest, which was splattered wth blood. He had inky black hair that was slicked back, and a cleanly shaven face which reeked of expensive aftershave. The white table-cloth was stained with blood, and as he nonchalantly puffed on his cigar, he pressed his tablecloth against his belly a little tighter, blood welling from beneath it to drip to the floor. He looked more irritated then anything that he had been shot in the gut - pain was clearly something this man was used to.

The two other men were a little more anxious then the man in the middle - they too wore pin-stripe suits, had slicked back hair and cleanly shaved faces - but they had no cigars, only worried expressions which made them purse their lips and look wildly around. "Hey camman, we gots a man bleedin' to death ova heah!" The man on the left shouted into the throng.

The man on the right grabbed a nurse as she tried to scoot around them, her arms packed tight with bags of plasma. "Hey toots, how about you get my boss a bed or somethin'?"

"Let go!" She cried, and the man released her with a snort, letting her peel away into the crowd.

"She wants me. 'Ey Joey, don't you think she wants me?" He asked the guy on the right, who looked up to him with an incredulous gaze.

"Jimmy...can ya' stop thinkin' wit' yer d**k for five seconds and find me a ********' doctah tah help de Boss, before I do somethin' we'll both regret?!"

The man in the middle, the Boss, took the cigar from his mouth with his free hand, letting the smoke curl out from his lips as he spoke quietly. "Mah wife bought me dis suit, Jimmy...you gonna explain to her why my wifes suit is stained wit' mah blood?"

"Nuh-no Boss..."

"Dats right. It's mah jahb tah face dat two-timin' b***h every night. Just like it's yah jahb tah find me a ********' doctah tah stitch me back togeda, so ah can face mah two timin' b***h ova wife every night. Ah'm doin' you a favour, Jimmy. Ah big ********' favour. So do me one back, and get me a ********' doctah already."

He screwed the cigar back into his lips, and the two men turned back to look into the crowd, ready and willing to pull out the first person with a stethescope around their neck out. Surely they'd be able to heal their boss to stop them from dealing with his shrew of a wife, right?

All three men looked down to the woman, each had their own reaction.

The two bodyguards to the Boss ogled her. Jimmy was not subtle about it - he started at the head and worked his way down, lingering on every single curve Hono'o's lithe body contained. Joey took in the curves as well, but as an afterthought, his main concern still bleeding between them. Hono'o was a welcome distraction to him - but a distraction nevertheless, thus he fought to ignore her and kept his eyes on their surroundings.

Her charms, however, did not seem to sway the Boss in any way. He seemed like a man used to gorgeous women - he inspected her clinically, rated her with a single puff of his cigar, and spoke straight to her. "Forty-five in mah guts." He said as he stepped forward to her, keeping his dripping tablecloth still firmly pressed against his stomach. He did not seem surplussed by her bloodied hands - indeed, he spoke to her like he was speaking about the flowers he'd planted in his front garden. "Dis mook, he busts into mah favourite resturaunt with a big ********' gun, puts a bullet or two in me for no good reason. I figure 'ey, you've been shot, get yerself to a hospital like a sensible human bein'." He sniffed a little as he took another drag of his cigar, looking Hono'o's face over, as if he recognized her...

But he followed her all the same. Jimmy and Joey followed too, Joey walking with his body turned slightly to keep an eye behind them, Jimmy with his eyes fixated on the gorgeous doctor lady. She was short, but she had curves....and those gams! He was very quiet and persistant with his stare, his eyes locked upon her, and lust was within those eyes...

Joey looked to the Boss, who walked straight to the table and sat down upon it, keeping his tablecloth on his stomach as he stubbed out the cigar in his own blood, the slowly burning tobacco sizzling briefly as the leaves absorbed the wet lifefluid, before handing the smoking remains to Jimmy, who absently took it. "Two doc - definitely two." Joey said, standing at the doorway and looking out into the hall as he spoke.

"You need a hand doin' anythin'?" Jimmy asked Hono'o, his voice low. "I'm good wit mah hands..."

"Git out, fellas." The Boss said suddenly, looking at the floor as he gave the order firmly but quietly.

Joey immediantly turned his attention to the Boss. "Boss, we don't know nuttin' 'bout this broad..." He said sharply, looking to Hono'o and her curves with a narrow glare.

"Aw c'mon Joey, she's harmless..." Jimmy said absently, walking past her to toss the dead cigar into the biological disposal bin - and brushing his hand over her a** as he did, his fingers dragging over the curve of her flesh. "Ain't ya, sweetheart?" His voice drooled into her ear...

...Before the Boss suddenly slammed his now empty hand into the table. "I said git out! Dat means now! Now now now!!" He roared, his face growing red with rage. "And you'd better be movin' fast Jimmy Twotimes, before I take dees' slugs outta mah guts and shove em up your a**!!"

Joey strode forward and grabbed Jimmy by his lapel, dragging the taller man away from Hono'o and her a** on staggering feet. "Da Boss said move, Jimmy, and dat means move!!" He growled to the taller man, shoving him out int he hall, before turning to stab a finger towards Hono'o. "And you, toots - I got real sharp ears. Sharp like a ********' razor, geddit?"

Then the door was pulled shut, Joey's shark-like eyes honed onto Hono'o's orange gaze even as the door clicked shut...

...And then the two were alone.

Outside, Joey stood with his back to the door as Jimmy stumbled against the wall, placing his hand over his eyes as he let out a sullen sigh. Joey rolled his eyes and sighed heavily at the taller man. "You'se, you'se is such a baby, I didn't even pull ya that hard..."

"Nah...nah Joey, its..." Jimmy said haltingly, loosening his tie as he turned to rest his back against the wall. "I suddenly feel exhausted..."

"It's all that blood goin' from yer head to yer d**k, ya palooka. Ya prob'ly had some bad clams or somethin' before the Boss got plugged." Joey said dismissively, looking back at the shut door suspiciously before looking back out into the hall...

...As within the room, the Boss went through a bit of a dramatic change.

As soon as the men had left the room, it was like someone had flipped a switch on him. He began to perspire heavily, his face growing pale and his whole body seemed to shake. "Oh god....oh jesus..." He groaned, his accent suddenly gone as he bent low over his stomach, screwing his face up in agony - before looking back up to Hono'o. "Okay....okay, but, but before you do...you need to get on that phone over there, dial the LPD and tell them that the Frenchman is dead...tell em that Officer Sweet has been shot, badge number 2256...and that you're gonna try and...and save me."

He winced, gritting his teeth as something moved within him, the bullets shifting within his gut. There was no trace of the heavy mobster accent in his voice anymore - indeed, he sounded like a man who had a most moral upbringing. "Look...look, okay, okay...I'll, you...just...okay."

He lay back on the table and lifted up the tablecloth, wincing as he did. His belly was sticky with blood, the tanned torso torn apart by heavy caliber bullets. He had been lucky the slugs hadn't gone straight through him - hell, he was lucky he was still able to walk.

He looked up to Hono'o with wide eyes. "It'll, uh, it'll be okay, right?" He asked her, more affirming this to himself. "It'll be okay?"