[h3] Ranch House, Unknown Location [/h3] The continual drone of the radio snapped off, as the younger woman who had appeared departed once again. The echoes still seemed to be bouncing around in Oren's head for some time afterward. It had been the only thing really keeping her awake all this time, when her resolve to do so had long failed her. The Alchemist's body had swiftly rejected the water, causing Oren to throw up onto the dirty concrete. She coughed, stomach acid burning her throat, and slumped sideways against the peeling wall. The pain, from her legs, arms, torso, was no less severe than it had been. Her head felt like it was full of hot tar. These things were still there, but by this point felt distant somehow. Was this dying? She'd long ago ceased to care about it. Eventually things caught up with you. Eventually you had to pay your dues. The Nightwatch Project was cursed. It got you sooner or later. No kind of deal with the devil held it off forever. Green was a bastard. Why had she gotten into this? Sterling, please don't have done anything stupid.. [i] "Stay with me, now,"[/i] Oren opened her eyes again, blinking a couple of times to focus. She was greeted by the presence of someone else in that room, and the presence of instuments on the table. Someone else wanting to have a go? No. The mannerisms were different. Doctor. Oren's jaw clenched reflexively at the word the held in her mind. Doctor was not a good word. But she had neither the energy or the time to get sufficiently worked up before the doctor stuck her with the needles. -- Visually, a short while after being given the painkiller, the captured alchemist seemed to relax, her head lolling to one side, hair half plastered to her face with dirt and unhealthy sweat. ALchemist Kovalenko had barely been out of the sterile fortress of Citadel Research in fifteen years. She had very little resistance to the pathogens of the Ash, and those bacteria had been making the most of an easy target, invading the half-healed injuries Spire had left behind and killing the tissue. Oren's own natural stubbornness only got her so far, and her body had been fighting a losing battle as the wounds turned septic. As the scalpel started cutting into the skin the alchemist tensed, bound hands closing into fists, but she made no attempt to stop what was taking place. Out of necessity or sheer lack of will to do so was unclear. [hr] [color=a2d39c]"SO you got plenty of time to make boast and make threats and give a speech on why you don't have time to say sorry, but not enough time to not boats or make threats. Or use the word please. Or to say sorry. If you're gonna be a dick at least be honest about it." [/color]Rei responded, sitting against the tiles with the knees level with her chest and a look of general contempt on her face. Quite honestly she spent enough of her time dealing with assholes that she could do nothing about to let those she could do something about go unchallenged. Maybe it was projecting to some degree. She didn't care too much either way. If she could manage to treat people civilly after all the shit Spire and Hel had put her through in the past then she didn't see what gave this guy a free pass. As if that was not enough, there also seemed to be yet another unwanted guest. She had her concerns, though this one at least sounded something close to sincere. And others seemed to be handling it. Rei leant back on the roof. Barely past sunrise and it was already chaotic. Well, whilst she was up there she might a well check the attic. Rei was in no way comfortable with what was taking place. She was also not comfortable at the prospect of a regenerator breaking out and murdering everyone in the house in their sleep. You couldn't trust regenerators. She should know. SHe was one after all. The shapeshifter crept up the incline of the roof to peer through the dusty window of the attic. She'd expected to see the broken winged man up there. She'd not expected another pair of wings to be occupying the space. Drake was back. It was all happening today. Rei remained still, listening in as little more than a blurry smudge of grey and green at a tiny window.