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try so hard to make the pieces all fit
[CONDOR wouldn't approve of this, they don't approve of much he does these days. Too quick to fight, to use lethal force. Too willing to work with people outside. Raiden isn't the Good Soldier he was five years ago, but he's a million times more effective than he ever was, so he can't find it in himself to care. They wouldn't send him on these messages if they didn't want him this way.]
[Days like this, he feels like his attitude is justified. Pulled it off, did what he had to do. Killed who he was supposed to, but god. Their people were something else, way tougher than anything Raiden could've been prepared for. He killed almost all of them on his way out, but he took his knocks for it. Stumbling and woozy, desperate need for attention. It takes time for him to figure out where to go. Doesn't trust CONDOR's staff, all things considered it makes sense, but it's not like there's many cybernetics experts hanging around. Only one he can think of, actually. And he trusts Newt enough to put Milly's care in his hands, but it's not trust that makes him hesitate. He's felt... Uncomfortable. Around him since he came back. He's one of few people who knew him before everything changed, before he vanished and came back as this, and Raiden doesn't know how to handle it. But he knows well enough he'll die if he doesn't get help, so really the choice is made, isn't it.]
[It takes its toll on him to make his way through the city to the clinic without being seen, but Raiden makes it. Knocks on the door heavily and leans his body against it for some kind of respite. He's in a state, breath ragged and heavy with a background of static to the noise, and he's absolutely covered in blood. It's easy enough to tell what of it's his, save a cut on his forehead, his artificial blood leaks white, some even on his lips when he coughs. Unable to clot, he's hastily welded the biggest injury shut with a laser or some kind of gun he found, but it hasn't done anything about the deeper damage.]
[Days like this, he feels like his attitude is justified. Pulled it off, did what he had to do. Killed who he was supposed to, but god. Their people were something else, way tougher than anything Raiden could've been prepared for. He killed almost all of them on his way out, but he took his knocks for it. Stumbling and woozy, desperate need for attention. It takes time for him to figure out where to go. Doesn't trust CONDOR's staff, all things considered it makes sense, but it's not like there's many cybernetics experts hanging around. Only one he can think of, actually. And he trusts Newt enough to put Milly's care in his hands, but it's not trust that makes him hesitate. He's felt... Uncomfortable. Around him since he came back. He's one of few people who knew him before everything changed, before he vanished and came back as this, and Raiden doesn't know how to handle it. But he knows well enough he'll die if he doesn't get help, so really the choice is made, isn't it.]
[It takes its toll on him to make his way through the city to the clinic without being seen, but Raiden makes it. Knocks on the door heavily and leans his body against it for some kind of respite. He's in a state, breath ragged and heavy with a background of static to the noise, and he's absolutely covered in blood. It's easy enough to tell what of it's his, save a cut on his forehead, his artificial blood leaks white, some even on his lips when he coughs. Unable to clot, he's hastily welded the biggest injury shut with a laser or some kind of gun he found, but it hasn't done anything about the deeper damage.]
no subject
He hardly expects any of his visitors to the clinic these days though, which he supposes is the reason he set it up. Not that any of the people he technically works for like the fact he's running a rogue clinic without any government intervention or sharing his research notes collected there, but they also haven't exactly tried to stop them. Maybe that was because Kit did something to all his adverts? He didn't know with that one. Gotta ask her about it when he's not arms deep in a piece of alien biology and running himself ragged working three jobs. He really should take some time out of dissecting this--is it a cyst? Or some sort of gland?--whatever this is and take a shower. Even Myaxx said he smells funky. And he's not sure if she even has a nose.
Right. Anyway, back to the aforementioned company.
The clinic is dark, having officially closed up shop for the day, the usual denizens of Newt's apartment either asleep or out making black market deals on the dark web for specific parts for her own modifications. There's a dim light that can be seen through the window, an old retro neon sign that Newt bought back with him from Tokyo that had Godzilla breathing fire with every flash blinking dimly in the gloom. But the knock isn't ignored.
He should really start to expect bloodied creatures showing up on his doorstep in the middle of the night.
It takes a few moments, some low noises of mumbling and swearing as he manages to manoeuvre himself out from behind the desk he'd fallen asleep at can be heard as he tries to pull himself together. And then suddenly the door is wrenched open, and a dishevelled Newt is standing there, with half the keys of his laptop keyboard pressed into his face.
The sight in front of him wakes him up pretty quickly.]
Holy shit! Raiden? [He's going to grab at him immediately but isn't sure where to put hi hands, so just sort of. Gestures at all the patches of blood and makes a high pitched noise, before moving to pull him inside.]
What! The hell!
no subject
[He manages it though, and keeps a hand on the wall to support himself.]
Sorry-- [The static in his voice is more pronounced when he speaks, his own voice laboured and breathless.] I didn't know where else to go.