baptism by blood; year one . anna gully

[orlando hartigan]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]there’s no need to rush – she’ll live.

the thought is nothing more than a pitiful excuse surmised as a rationalization for his sluggish pace. navigating through the thick crowd of people prove more difficult than first imagined but he’s sure she’ll still be alive by the time he reaches her. the bigger concern is how to address her swift and punishing defeat. just because she’s a virgin doesn’t excuse the fact that the battle had done little to entertain the now pissed off crowd. perhaps he could string the situation along to hype up the veteran fighter but if this trend continues, subject gully won’t have a purpose to live if she manages to scrape past her next battle. fortunately, he’s not too worried about that. morphs come and go on a regular basis. as long as they don’t fault him for that then he sees no consequences if she perishes. but, until then, she’s under his jurisdiction and therefore her wellbeing is directly correlated with his performance.

the clamoring of the crowd behind him becomes a mere afterthought, lost in his earlier considerations as he vaults over the guardrail. without a second thought he allows his serperior to spring out from her pokeball, bringing her up to speed with a single word. “medic,” he states, fully well knowing the pokemon is capable of processing the idea behind the command and reacting accordingly. it isn’t the first time she’s been sent for a medic and it won’t be the last. they’re too necessary with the consistent nature of these battles. unfortunately, they’re more accustomed to wheeling out corpses rather than the injured. but tonight is different. anna gully will live. orlando is sure of that.

trusting lafayette to slither away to find proper help, orlando is left to render whatever first aid he can to the downed morph. however, he’s sparsely prepared to do much with his lack of supplies. with no other choice, he resorts to using his hands to apply pressure to the long lashes laid across gully’s chest. with enough pressure the bleeding will stop. all he needs to do is stop her from bleeding until someone can bring a stretcher to remove her from here and toward a more accommodating location.

“stay calm. breath slowly with steady breathes,” he commands, pressing down on the wound as the blood pools around his palms. “someone will be here soon.”

[ANNA GULLY]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #0F0F0F; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]she should be dead.

that was the agreement. a fight to the death. so why was she alive? anna couldn't answer that question.

part of her wanted to believe that some greater force was holding her alive, barely, but she knew better. putting faith in beliefs was a fool's task, and anna gully was no fool. she was a ghost. or so she thought. did ghosts bleed? she couldn't answer that, either. caught in between reality and the dungeon of her imagination, she was left to stare into the alcohol drenched crowd. whether they were screaming or the buzz in her ears was making her go deaf, she couldn't tell. she couldn't do anything right now. blurred vision shifted from spotted to black, breathing shifted from shallow to frantic.

her mind was trapped while he body bled out, the compression against her skin not yet registering. the daze of the attack, of the first time she had felt. seen, her own blood was still blinding her. anna could never tell if she was flesh or blood-- but she now knew for sure she was no impenetrable. she was not a soul. she was not a ghost. she was human. too human. it had been steel that had forced her to realize that she wore her own soul, which had been sliced twice. anna was very much in touch with her human body, now at least. fantasies were gone, she was being forced to accept that she was as vulnerable as everyone else.

her veteran opponent had already known.

she should be dead.

was it mercy? was it hesitation? was it because she was new? her mind would swirl with unanswered questions. there was only one thing she could confirm, and it clouded her mind, ever present. anna gully was human. not fully, but enough.

eleven years of training had not prepared her for this. she never had something to fight for. only later would the shuppet morph use this experience to gain an upper hand in the ring. she would be successful. but for now, she was a complete and utter failure.

surely this was intended.

confidence was shattered so easily.

the male voice in her ear was nothing. instructions. she had no choice but to follow them, if she wanted to live. humiliation made her stupid enough to crave death, only for a moment. she was dazed, dying, but herself. anna gully had too much pride to allow herself to perish at the hands of a veteran. she had too much to hold on to. revenge. it would come, eventually. she was patient, she could wait. her chest would stop to heave, she would regain control of her body. slowly, but surely. pain was subdued by adrenaline, and she was dreading the moment it dared strike.

she opened her mouth to speak, but only air escaped. breathe. breathe. breathe, dumb shit.

glassy eyes would raise to glare at the male presence. bruises on her arms and face would seem trivial after this. no, they were trivial. the stranger-- was he a stranger? she couldn't remember, couldn't focus, not now. it didn't matter. he would serve as a focal point either way, give her something to focus on besides the trickling crimson staining everything on her.

she should be dead.

[orlando hartigan]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]the blood won't stop flowing but orlando refuses to relent. he applies more force, bordering actual chest compression's, using his weight as a fulcrum to steady the pressure. all he can do is persist, hoping that the wound will clot with time. if it doesn't? well, he tried his best. there's no point in crying over another slab of rotten meat. it won't stop him from sleeping soundly tonight. all in all, she's nothing more than a faceless name and number. anna gully is irrelevant.

"inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale."

she may be irrelevant but that doesn't mean she's worthless. a life, no matter how fickle and frail, is still a life. her creation is a government investment and if he can help it, orlando will make sure she doesn't end up dying without playing off her impossible debt. that, and it never hurts to fine tune his emergency administrations.

and, true to their nature, they kept her alive long enough for the real medics to arrive. one rickety stretcher ride later, anna would find herself bandaged up and under stable conditions, if not a little banged up. nothing a little rest in the dainty little makeshift cot couldn't fix. at least now orlando could rest, tidying up his paperwork as he sat in the chair positioned at the head of her bed.

[ANNA GULLY]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #0F0F0F; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]"don't touch me."

the words finally come out, a grumble, but comprehensible as she comes to, the same blurred, male figure in her presence. the command is late and out of place, but off her chest. literally. her voice is weak; it shocks her, and she decides she would rather keep it to herself until it's normal once more. anna is very aware she won't follow through, but at least she tried.

a thanks was in order, but he wouldn't get it for another seven months. she was not the type to dwell on the past, and she didn't expect him to be such either.

"it's not your job to babysit."

she refuses to cringe at her own rasp, her mouth set in a hard frown as she glares at him, despite her condition. the physical will to fight is absent for the moment, but her defenses will never go down. not again, not after today.

"you aren't required to stay."

[orlando hartigan]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]her words tear his attention away from tomorrow's to-do list. with a sigh, he shuffled them, along with the plenitude of sticky notes back into his manila folder. with a soft slap, the folder lands on the floor and orlando give her his full attention. judgmental, crimson eyes glare her down, sizing her up before he finally comes with a proper way to address her.

"i wouldn't if i didn't have to."

that simple sentence is enough to serve as a reply to all three comments. it cements his concerns and his mindset behind his actions. there's no grace or charity in his heart, only him bending to necessity. that's all that matters, the job, the responsibilities, the burden he can never forget. things are expected of him and he does the same to her.

"that performance was shameful and unacceptable. you can lose again, if you want, but not in such a fashion and not anytime soon. i'm responsible for making sure you actually put up a fight for the next few weeks. after that, then you're free to die at your own leisure."

[ANNA GULLY]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #0F0F0F; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]she can only huff at his retort, conjuring up some sort of bite of her own when she speaks again. the obvious intimidation is enough to keep her silent, to keep her chewing on her words before she can oh-so-carelessly throw them at him.

the words take their intended toll, her insides wrenching at the shame made clear, her frown deepening at the harsh execution. she's not used to being coddled, but her will to forget the events of the past hour is slowly being riddled down. she's being forced to remember. judging by the pain shooting across her body, she always will.

her jaw tightens. "it won't happen again."

"and i will not be dying any time soon."

brave words, for a person in her place. unfortunate, that bravery and stupidity were parallels.

"don't be responsible. it's only more paperwork. i'm fine."

[orlando hartigan]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]blunt honestly isn't always the best method of transparency but orlando doesn't care for how she feels. the only thing he gives any mind is her performance, which in turn dictates his own. fortunately, he has no intentions of allowing her to drag him down. but by the looks of it, she doesn't intend to. she's taking it well, fantastically, if not for her empty promises. time will tell if her words hold any truth, but by then orlando will have already done his part. all she has to do is not lose. easy, right?

"it won't," he reiterates. he won't allow it. anna gully has no choice in the matter. morphs never have a choice in the matter. that's their place and eventually they learn, one way or another.

"the paperwork will be easier than explaining to my superior why i ignored his orders and my assignment. easier than what i was thinking when i listened to a mere morph, one that barely got away with her life barely held apart through sub-optimal first aid. you can worry about yourself however you like, but, as long as you're my responsibility, i'll be sure to keep a tight leash on you."

"you have no choice in the matter," he ends, already predicting some sort of protest.

[ANNA GULLY]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #0F0F0F; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]orders are orders, she knows that. anna can hate him, she can wish to rip him apart, but neither will make her career easier. she's aware she has to obey; options are left for the luxury of the rich, and anna was at the bottom of the food chain.

"it will not." surely her words are meaningless, but she continues to drive the fact into both him and herself. by stating her assurance she can tell herself she will follow through.

you'll need more than a leash.

a growl meant to be confined to her thoughts escaped her lips; it was obviously unintentional, yet it held the bite originally intended. threats were not for her, not outside of the ring.

the bandages are uncomfortable, that much she can decide on. anna gully does not like being hospitalized. the thought is enough to keep it from ever happening again.

"i know."

it contradicts her previous snap, but even a morph such as anna knows that there is no fighting the system. obeying is what she was born and bred to do, and this would be no different.

"what is your first order of business, sir?"

[orlando hartigan]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]her bite leaves orlando silent. there's no reason to respond. she won't rouse anything other than a sharp frown from his otherwise blank expression. resistance is futile, pride is meaningless; she's just being stubborn, childish even. but that's fine, as long as she obeys.

"recover and do so quickly."

her injury may have given her a grace period but orlando's wary. their time is limited and even then, he can't afford to what time he has with her. she's not special, there are others under his watch and what little hours he has is split amongst them. the sooner she can get back into the field the better. anna gully has much to learn.

[ANNA GULLY]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #0F0F0F; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]If anything is obvious, it's that Orlando has no intention to coddle her. She didn't ask for it. She didn't want it. Anna was perfectly content with the sad excuse for a banter, hardly repartee, occurring. Even if she would have preferred his ever-lasting absence, Gully would not get her way. Such was life. Her orders were to recover, yet her body didn't seem to have the desire to obey so easily. She scoffed, the sting in her chest reminding her not only of her mistake, but of how pathetically useless she was.

Again, such was life.

Anna Gully would remain useless until biology allowed her to benefit society's pleasure once more. Fighting to the death would become a frequent habit, and she would be eager to compete. Her first battle had been something to look forward to. Nerves would stay as they were, she would be completely calm as the shadow ball hit its target. She would be completely calm as her opponent brushed it off. Veterans had no time for trivial attacks. They only wanted blood. So would she, eventually. Anna would be the epitome of relaxed, even as the snarling morph across her lunged for a vital point. If his aim had been better, she would have been dead.

I should be dead.

The roaring sound of a furious crowd would be something ingrained in her memory for years to come. It was fuel to her, it was life. Without a stumble, one come never regain themselves. She would rise from her ashes, eventually, but for now Gully was stuck on a thin mattress with relentless springs. She had put herself there, both she and Orlando were very aware. It would have been humbling, had she not been so set on proving him wrong in the future. Here would Anna learn the true meaning of patience. Watching the world go by, hearing of the local victors, all would only move her forward.

Her eyes shifted toward the window. Her own realizations were private; Anna would not hold eye contact and allow her bystander to have the opportunity to see the purity of it all. He would know on his own.

"I don't have a choice with recovery's pace."

Not that she would ever admit to being disabled. Blood was blood, and blood would leak. The inevitable truth would make her sit up more than she had already been positioned, the quick dizziness from the action making her pause. She would have taken back the previous words if given the chance. Anna did not give herself limits. She did not allow the body to control the mind; it would be deemed stupidity by her peers, yet she would push on. As long as there was time to rest at the end of the day, there was time to train. Insomnia ensured that; she would not be getting sleep tonight, tomorrow, or any night for the remainder of her life. Rest was necessary. Sleep was not.

Five minutes, approximately, passed before she looked back to him.

"So training resumes tomorrow?"

[orlando hartigan]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]how disappointing. after putting up such a fierce exterior, an excuse was the last thing orlando had expected from the bitter morph. instead, he had predicted something more rousing from her, a suitable determination to match her earlier snippets. but here she laid, submitting to harsh reality of her situation. at least she was rational, showing some favor as he silently judged her. this world, the one where death looms over her with every match, is a grim and dark one. orlando has no intentions to lie to her and he expects the same from her. he's a trainer not a mother.

"but you do, as do i. your wounds will heal faster if you take care of them. they aren't severe but they'll have to be dressed to prevent infection."

anna isn't the only one to avoid direct eye contact. his droning begins to fade and orlando glances back at the door, already troubled with having to attend to her for the rest of the week. he could already hear her bitterly snapping at him in protest at the treatment. being so thorough around her chest would certainly raise a few questions but getting frisky with an injured morph would be the last of his was at the fantasies. just because their anatomy was humanoid didn't mean they'd receive the same treatment. to him, she was nothing more than another pokemon.

the room drowns itself in pitiful silence once more as the two can't stand to address the other. anna is the first to come back from her thoughts, grasping at his attention as her mouth opens. the words that come out fit her better, much better than her earlier statement but orlando finds himself agreeing with the former. rest comes first and her body is exhausted.

"you won't be ready that quickly. focus on your recovery."

[ANNA GULLY]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #0F0F0F; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]"Certainly you aren't implying that you will be the one to dress them."

It was a useless statement that Anna already knew the answer to. She would have been more concerned about being a burden, had it not been Orlando. If he was condemned to taking care of her until she could take care of herself, it was his own fault. He wasn't required to sit by her bedside, he wasn't required to let her live. It would have been easier to die on the field, but she didn't. Anna was cursed to being a useless chunk of bedridden flesh, waiting on cells to do their jobs.

"If they aren't severe, I'll be fine to start tomorrow."

Impossible wasn't the word she would use to describe her capability of lounging in a medic's office, but it was damn close. There was nothing she hated more than staying stationary, and she would persist on becoming active until she was knocked unconscious (which was impossible anyway).

She ignores his recommondation, and turns her attention to the clock above him. Already she was wasting valuable time. The morph would have slipped onto her feet (or at least tried) already if she hadn't felt so damn drowsy from the drugs they forced into her system. Painkillers were damn near useless.

"Focusing on recovering won't stitch me. I can recover while I train. I'm not so idiotic as to put full force into attacking. I would be alone."

Her snarl would have been more obvious had it not been for pleading tone of her voice; desperation. There was nothing she could do to hold it back, she had yet to refine herself.

"And if I die trying, I'm too weak to survive. Recovery would be useless."

[orlando hartigan]

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]"i am and i will be."

as awkward as it would be for the both of them, orlando didn't really have a choice in the matter. if not him, then who? the nurses were already short handed as it was and with the sudden string of battles the influx of injured morphs were proving too much for the medical staff to handle. it's why there wasn't a nurse on standby for when anna fell, or why one wasn't tending to her now. instead, all she got was orlando, who, for the time being, would have to do.

"you'll be fine when the doctors say you'll be," he states sternly.

considering her injuries, orlando isn't willing to risk allowing her to put herself in a worse position. with neither of them being certified, or having anything close to a doctorate, they'll just have to wait for someone to clear her. it'll be a few days past her due but anna will be free, eventually. until then, she's to be confined to her bed where orlando can keep a steady eye on her.

he can alreayd feel the resistance coming from her. as cute as it is to hear her beg, orlando ignores it, ignoring her by proxy. instead, he continue onto his paperwork to pass the time, poised to stop her if comes down to it. but, with the medication due to take effect any time now, he won't have to.

"your words mean nothing," he casually lets out as he goes from one page and onto the next, "you don't have a choice."