DoomPet

Chapter 99

While Crüe questioned his brother and son, the Slayer, from his head to toes couldn't move, and was locked into some metal sort of contraption. Cold metal was pressing hard against his shoulders and back. He was very much conscious, but whatever medicine was entering his body from a plethora of IVs made the pain faint and dull. He had a plastic oxygen mask over his face and nose. His first instinct was to use his big, awkward hands and pull it off his face, but he decided it was probably there for a good reason.

His face scrunched up in agony when he felt pain in his stomach and chest. He was fairly certain he could feel a scalpel cutting away at the fabric, taking chunks of meat with it. His neck was also hurt like a bitch. He felt scraping and cutting happening there as well, it wasn't nearly as bad. Someone was gluing his face back up and he watched their blurry hands work.

It took him a significant amount of time to realize he was laying on his back. Gravity seemed so hard to differentiate when all he could feel was metal and all he could see was hands. Before he could ponder his situation any more, he felt a scalpel slice a chunk of flesh off his torso like he was being carved for thanksgiving dinner. He roared out in pain, thrashing around the best he could. That earned him a great deal more pain medication and he drifted off to sleep.

The swarm of medical personnel around him were shocked by his wounds. The burns on his stomach didn't go didn't go as deep as his neck, but once the few chunks of clothing had been cut out of his wounds it looked horrific. Charred fat surrounded roasted muscles with a few parts of his front dotted with deep cuts that had been made to cut out the fabric that was fused to his skin. There were still huge chunks of fabric from his under suit welded to his flesh. Any semblance of a normal human being would have been dead hours ago, yet the Slayer's body persevered drawing on strength the man wished he didn't have.

For an excruciating thirty minutes they hacked away at his front, attempting to give him new skin grafts which promptly were rejected by the healing of his body. The Slayer faded in and out of consciousness and saw the familiar face of the laryngologist who had returned his voice. Now he wasn't quite so sure that it had only been thirty minutes.

Someone was touching his neck. It felt weird, almost ticklish. He started coughing and couldn't stop. His whole chest was seizing and every cough drug up fluid. He felt like he was drowning and broke his hand free, peeling the oxygen mask on his face, just in time. He spat the fluid out and covered the laryngologist's face with blood. His vision blurred and he passed out cold.

He woke up laying down in a hospital bed. His neck was at an uncomfortable, stiff angle yet he felt no pain. Not to mention his neck was bandaged beyond belief with drainage tubes leading away from it. Both his arms were dotted with IVs and his face was stitched up and covered with bandages as well. He blinked his swollen eyes a few times, barely able to even see out of them as he cataloged his injuries mentally before he realized Crüe was right in front of him, talking.

"-and they were able to take some of the drainage tubes out already." He reached down and squeezed the man's hand, giving him a loving look. "Your voice will be back soon, like I said you just need to rest it." The demon seemed so concerned and he fussed about with the man's blanket, pulling it up on his chest a bit more, hiding the bloody gauze from sight. The Slayer didn't know it but he had been in and out of consciousness for a few hours. Crüe was still answering the confused look he had on his face from ten minutes ago. When Crüe finally realized he was back and leaned down, and smiled, "Slayer, you're back again! Please stay up." Crüe's voice sounded a bit desperate, "If you need anything I can go get it for you."

Hearing Crüe wanted him to stay up kicked his body into gear. He took a deep shaky breath and grabbed his hand back. He spoke out despite the warning, and his voice was a mangled, garbled mess, "C-C-rü-Crü-"