01-24-2016, 03:15 AM
Blood sprayed from Trixie’s mouth as she choked on the ever increasing amount crimson liquid that rose up from her damaged lungs. The Royal Medical Corps had taken her back to the estate infirmary, against the wishes of Jorgan who had rushed onto the arena floor to try and finish off his subject. The highly trained and veteran demons of the Royal Guard subdued him under Tyrant Lord Belial’s orders and hauled him off, placing Trixie under their protection for the time being. Taking a confiscated syringe of Nephilim Serum from the Quartermaster’s living quarters the lead doctor jabbed it directly into Trixie’s heart, plunging the fluid into her blood stream. Blood was pooling on the floor and running down off the table they were working on.
“It should be helping, but I can’t staunch the bleeding from her burns or her broken leg.” One of the nurses reported as she placed a clear mask over Trixie’s mouth.
Another doctor took a hose and inserted it up the mistress’ nose and down into her airway to suction the blood coming from her damaged lungs. Once the tubing was clear Trixie gasped as air was once again able to reach her bloodstream, but only while the machine was draining her lungs of fluid. Ripping open a fresh package of gauze a succubae nurse pressed it against the exposed and heavily burned section of Trixie’s torso, wrapping it around her shoulders. The medical team had already started an intravenous flow of harvested human blood, fluids to keep her hydrated, and basic medicines.
“Seriously. You can’t die. I’ll die if you kick the bucket.” Fiona said offhandedly.
With a sigh only audible to Trixie the demoness of the mountain chanted a phrase in a language the groggy Sith trooper couldn’t understand. A moment later her eyes lit up with serene glow of light and she immediately gagged on the tube in her throat. It had gone clear and stayed clear. Pulling out the vacuum hose the doctor noticed that the heart monitor had suddenly stabilized.
“She’s stabilizing. It’s working. Set that leg, nurse! Get those bones ready for repair.” The head doctor ordered!
“You’re welcome.” Fiona said, her words oozing with disgust.
“What did you do?”
“I gifted part of my ability to regenerate to you. Your body is healing faster than an ordinary prime now and shall be capable of doing so from now on. Don’t ever say I didn’t help you with this union.” Fiona replied.
“Yeah well, you never quite explained why I was your chosen vessel.”
“That’s for me to know and for you to put up with.” The goddess shot back.
Trixie placed a hand to the oxygen mask and pressed it closer to her face and closed her eyes. With an audible crunch the bones in her femur mended themselves like they had never been broken. One of the nurses removed the blood and medicinal drip, leaving only the electrolyte bag. Beatrix was covered in her own blood; she could feel her back sticking to the table. The medical team cleared out of the room once they had determined Trixie was healing and stable enough to be left alone. The red-headed soldier could feel her own skin weaving itself back together on her left side. She laid there staring up at the ceiling of whatever room she was in at the Citadel. A pair of Royal Guards came into the room, her eyes moving to them, and took post next to the door.
They were obsidian skinned, muscular demons donned in shining silver full plate. The only thing visible behind their helmets were the glow of their purple eyes. Each one had a death grip on a large zweihander, the flat part of the blade resting on their shoulder. Trixie’s eyes widened as Sia Morelli walked into the room with a smile on her face.
“Damn, woman. You’re looking worse for wear. It’s like you never even died out there in the desert.” She said, laughing.
Trixie took the oxygen mask off her mouth and raised herself up on her elbows. “How are you even here? Did Belial take you back?”
“I never quit.” Sia replied. “I was only ordered to use you as bait to eliminate Yennefer. She never saw it coming.”
“Now—“ She hesitated. “Now I’m here to inform you that your next match is going to be against Jorgan.”
A look of concern momentarily crossed Trixie’s face.
“Don’t worry, kiddo. Belial is rigging this fight just like last time. Except I’ll be fighting on your side. I’ve been ordered to execute Jorgan and pass his research onto some other demon. I convinced the Tyrant Lord that it would be fitting if the Quartermaster’s only success had a hand in killing him.” Sia grinned wickedly.
Trixie sighed and pulled herself up into a seated position. The last of her injuries were closing and she felt brand new. Ripping the intravenous needle from her arm she tossed it aside and snapped the oxygen mask from her face. Sia extended a hand and pulled her previous comrade to her feet.
“I like you, slave. Despite being a pit fighter you’ve managed to cause quite a bit of fun around this old citadel. Hopefully that continues. Now c’mon. We need to get you some clothes and I’ll lead you to your new cell.”
With a smile Sia turned and exited the trauma room of the infirmary with Trixie on her heels followed by the two Royal Guards.
“It should be helping, but I can’t staunch the bleeding from her burns or her broken leg.” One of the nurses reported as she placed a clear mask over Trixie’s mouth.
Another doctor took a hose and inserted it up the mistress’ nose and down into her airway to suction the blood coming from her damaged lungs. Once the tubing was clear Trixie gasped as air was once again able to reach her bloodstream, but only while the machine was draining her lungs of fluid. Ripping open a fresh package of gauze a succubae nurse pressed it against the exposed and heavily burned section of Trixie’s torso, wrapping it around her shoulders. The medical team had already started an intravenous flow of harvested human blood, fluids to keep her hydrated, and basic medicines.
“Seriously. You can’t die. I’ll die if you kick the bucket.” Fiona said offhandedly.
With a sigh only audible to Trixie the demoness of the mountain chanted a phrase in a language the groggy Sith trooper couldn’t understand. A moment later her eyes lit up with serene glow of light and she immediately gagged on the tube in her throat. It had gone clear and stayed clear. Pulling out the vacuum hose the doctor noticed that the heart monitor had suddenly stabilized.
“She’s stabilizing. It’s working. Set that leg, nurse! Get those bones ready for repair.” The head doctor ordered!
“You’re welcome.” Fiona said, her words oozing with disgust.
“What did you do?”
“I gifted part of my ability to regenerate to you. Your body is healing faster than an ordinary prime now and shall be capable of doing so from now on. Don’t ever say I didn’t help you with this union.” Fiona replied.
“Yeah well, you never quite explained why I was your chosen vessel.”
“That’s for me to know and for you to put up with.” The goddess shot back.
Trixie placed a hand to the oxygen mask and pressed it closer to her face and closed her eyes. With an audible crunch the bones in her femur mended themselves like they had never been broken. One of the nurses removed the blood and medicinal drip, leaving only the electrolyte bag. Beatrix was covered in her own blood; she could feel her back sticking to the table. The medical team cleared out of the room once they had determined Trixie was healing and stable enough to be left alone. The red-headed soldier could feel her own skin weaving itself back together on her left side. She laid there staring up at the ceiling of whatever room she was in at the Citadel. A pair of Royal Guards came into the room, her eyes moving to them, and took post next to the door.
They were obsidian skinned, muscular demons donned in shining silver full plate. The only thing visible behind their helmets were the glow of their purple eyes. Each one had a death grip on a large zweihander, the flat part of the blade resting on their shoulder. Trixie’s eyes widened as Sia Morelli walked into the room with a smile on her face.
“Damn, woman. You’re looking worse for wear. It’s like you never even died out there in the desert.” She said, laughing.
Trixie took the oxygen mask off her mouth and raised herself up on her elbows. “How are you even here? Did Belial take you back?”
“I never quit.” Sia replied. “I was only ordered to use you as bait to eliminate Yennefer. She never saw it coming.”
“Now—“ She hesitated. “Now I’m here to inform you that your next match is going to be against Jorgan.”
A look of concern momentarily crossed Trixie’s face.
“Don’t worry, kiddo. Belial is rigging this fight just like last time. Except I’ll be fighting on your side. I’ve been ordered to execute Jorgan and pass his research onto some other demon. I convinced the Tyrant Lord that it would be fitting if the Quartermaster’s only success had a hand in killing him.” Sia grinned wickedly.
Trixie sighed and pulled herself up into a seated position. The last of her injuries were closing and she felt brand new. Ripping the intravenous needle from her arm she tossed it aside and snapped the oxygen mask from her face. Sia extended a hand and pulled her previous comrade to her feet.
“I like you, slave. Despite being a pit fighter you’ve managed to cause quite a bit of fun around this old citadel. Hopefully that continues. Now c’mon. We need to get you some clothes and I’ll lead you to your new cell.”
With a smile Sia turned and exited the trauma room of the infirmary with Trixie on her heels followed by the two Royal Guards.
![[Image: trixiesig2018.png]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2018/06/12/trixiesig2018.png)