You Are Not a Monster

Hero

"I need a Hero to save me now
I need a Hero
Save me now
I need a Hero to save my life
A Hero save me just in time"

It was hard getting the man's bulky frame through the door- he was already heavy with the armor alone, and it was impossible to tell what the metal arm could have weighed. Regardless, after ten minutes of rearranging his limbs to fit his unconscious body through the doorframe, Sam managed to get him in.

She had laid some towels down to prevent scuffing or bloodstains from marring her hardwood floor; it was the real deal, after all. The place had been built in the '40s, before laminate.

Sam worked quietly and efficiently. Since her mother had been a paramedic, she had given her some emergency supplies in an orange duffel. She jogged to the upstairs closet and found the large dust-covered bag. The only other time she'd needed it was a few years back when she accidentally cut her hand open with a knife.

That was when she first discovered she was good with stitches.

When Sam returned, she found the man hadn't moved an inch, which was a good thing and a bad. Good because that meant she could work without him moving around too much. Bad because he wouldn't be able to give her internal ailments for her to treat.

Sam turned on the lights in the entryway so she could get a better view of her "patient" before she started working.

First, she unbuckled the various straps and holsters, sitting the assortment of weapons off to the corner well out of his reach. By that time, the entire entryway had been covered in towels.

Next, she worked on getting his armor off. She knew she couldn't cut through the thick material, but thankfully she found hooks and buckles on his side that held the outer shell on. Under it was a thin black t-shirt which was easy enough to cut through.

"Damn, talk about ripped." Sam muttered as she saw her mystery man's exposed abdomen. She only let herself get sidetracked for a moment, however, as her attention was turned to the bleeding wound in the lower right side of his torso. The one on his back wasn't anywhere near that area, and she knew she'd have to dig the bullet out.

"Guess it's a good thing you're out for this," Sam said while she fetched the rubbing alcohol and long set of tweezers. "'Cause this is gonna sting."

She sterilized the tweezers before the outside of the ragged flesh and began searching for the metal embedded in muscle, checking the man's face for any sign of coherence.

He didn't move a muscle.

Sam quickly found the bullet (thankfully his armor had kept it from going too deep) and finished sterilizing the wound before stitching it up and throwing some gauze and tape over it. Next, she rolled him over to look at his back, studying the wrinkled flesh where the metal was fused with skin. She quickly turned her attention back to her work, knowing if she let her curiosity take over she could end up losing her "patient."

Once again, there was only an entry wound on his shoulder, and she had to remove the bullet. Thankfully it was beneath the swollen, bruised tissue of his shoulder; she didn't want to dig around there.

After it was taken out and she put both chunks of metal in a small container, she felt around his shoulder. By the way the muscle felt, she'd guessed it had been dislocated and roughly popped into place...not very well.

Once again checking for any sign of coherence, she placed her hands carefully over his shoulder and popped it completely back to where it was supposed to be. The sickening crack that accompanied it told her it had been fixed properly.

She decided to remove his pants as well to check for more damage. She didn't really think anything of the fact that she was taking an unconscious hot guy's pants off, just that she needed to check him for further injuries. Plus, they needed to be washed.

After finding nothing but bruises and small cuts (which she also took care of) on his legs, she covered them with a towel. She then tended to the small gashes on his face and after realizing he probably hadn't had any fluids all day, decided to start a saline IV on him, hanging the bag on a coat hook. She took his weapons and locked them in her own gun safe, although she wasn't sure how much good that would do if he decided to take his metal arm to it.

Since it was nearly 4 in the morning by the time she was done, Sam decided to stay up. She never really needed a bunch of sleep, anyway. Four hours was normal for her. Six was pretty good. Eight...that rarely happened anymore.

So, she took to straightening up her house and cleaning her guest's clothes. After all, if she was harboring a fugitive, he would need something to run in once he woke.