The Good Intentions of a Cyborg Werewolf

Mi Casa es Su Casa - XI

"What the hell happened?" Mercer asked as Luke limped into the apartment, supported by Erin. They were both covered in soot, and while Luke's bleeding had stopped, he was still weak. He put down her bags and motioned towards the couch, Erin helping him sit down before finally taking a seat herself. Mercer crossed his arms as he looked at them but didn't ask a second time. Erin was about to explain when Luke grunted.

"A fake found out where she lived," he said. "Shot me about six times with silver. They went through but, well..." He pulled up his shirt to reveal the holes. They had bruised and swollen, like giant bug bits, discolouring his torso. Mercer knelt down next to him to get a better look.

"You transformed?" He asked, and Luke nodded. Mercer rubbed his chin. "That's twice in two days. Still, you should've healed. Are you certain they all went through?"

"If they didn't I'd be dead." Luke sounded annoyed.

"One might have fragmented." Mercer pressed his hands next to each of Luke's wounds, the latter wincing. "Don't be so dramatic."

"I also got slightly blown up," Luke said, and Mercer looked at Erin.

"My house burned down," she muttered.

"I'm sorry," Mercer replied.

"It was my fault," she shrugged. Luke made an uncharacteristically high pinched reaction to Mercer's prodding.

"That's sharp!" He said, seemingly surprised.

"I think a bullet did fragment," he said, "likely in your spine. Take off your shirt and lie face down." Luke groaned, but acquiesced. Mercer went to retrieve his first aid while Luke tried to roll up his shirt, and Erin felt a bit uncomfortable.

"Should I leave?" She asked.

"What, squeamish?" Luke teased. "Never seen someone get their spine operated on?"

"No, actually, I haven't," she said with some contempt at his attitude. Luke seemed amused by her protests as he tried to pull his shirt off, and Erin was about to avert her eyes when she saw something that compelled her gaze. Luke's body was covered in scars, an excess of two dozen or more. Some were small, others were huge, and they all looked very old.

"My God..." She uttered reflexively, only to remember her manners. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Luke grunted as he finished taking his shirt off. He seemed even more in pain than before, his movements were slow, and he reclined on the couch as he looked at his bullet wounds.

"Did 'fakes' do all that?" Erin asked.

"Ha!" Luke chuckled, only to wince immediately after. "They wish. No, most of these are actually from when I was young. These little ones-" he pointed along his arms, showing off round, tiny scars that looked like teeth marks, "are attitude adjustments I got from my siblings."

"You have siblings?" Erin asked.

"Had," Luke corrected. Erin felt she had said something she shouldn't, Luke's expression turning sombre, so she didn't press the topic.

"And those?" Erin pointed to the scars across his chest. Three long ones, aligned similar to the scar-like patterns on his suit's chest.

"Ah, that's the Doc's handiwork," Luke said.

"Is that how you two met?" She asked. The picture was becoming clearer in her head, and she was about to continue the topic when Mercer arrived with the first aid kit.

"Lie face down," he said with audible annoyance. Luke rolled his eyes again and did as he was told, and Erin gave them space as Mercer knelt down. She saw Luke's back now, and while it had scars as well, five in particular stood out. These didn't seem like wounds; they were more evenly aligned and better resembled surgical scars. Mercer held some kind of device in his hand. It reminded Erin of a cell phone, only it had a digital screen as well as numbered buttons, and he ran it along Luke's back like one would use a stud finder on walls.