Bleeding city king verseXoropherion

[Verse]

Yareli East Central Hospital was a large structure ready to serve its big city and the people in it. The gray concrete squares and rectangles making up the place for healing was a no-nonsense design, sturdy and to the point, melding into the evening sky. The parking lot was only half full, with most of the spaces in some way touched by exhaust-colored snow, with the season coming up. There was a wet, unkind cold in the air, and with the sea as its closest neighbor, New City was never far from a breeze or wind. While the lights coming off the plentiful windows and the clinical sign weren't exactly welcoming, they did the job of illuminating this official stronghold of medicine. All things considered, it was a slow night, despite personnel having been called in after a spike in activity that started to die out an hour ago.

Dr. Adam Kreisler thought he'd gotten through the worst of it. There was no telling what Yareli would throw at you, especially with all the celebrations coming up, but he couldn't imagine it'd be worse than it was earlier. But he was proven wrong when he met with his latest patient, a wee 22 year old with scratches on him, acting erratic. Here, that could mean anything, but likely, it had to do with drugs. Some tests and possibly a drip should do, but mostly the patients just chose to leave on their own once they'd come off it.

Striding through the corridors now, nose broken and the bandaging across his face to show for his troubles, the tall, brown-haired man all but kicked the door open to one of the treating rooms. Nurse McCarthy was in there taking blood pressure and calming an older woman down about her vertigo. He knew because he'd put her there. "Paige. That fucking boy is back. He's banged up and on something. I don't know what the FUCK is going on, but I know West Central got a batch of Chinese coming in, some of them DOA. I think that has something to do with it. Go to room 408." the state of Dr. Kreisler's face should well underline the severity of the situation, if not his mood. Every nurse had people who were attached to them or vice verse. It just so happened this patient had asked for her. Adam was glad to be rid of it, because he couldn't throw members of this particular syndicate out because of underhanded politics and cashflow. Everything in Yareli was dirty, despite the police department's push to clean things up. Usually Adam didn't let it get in his way. He just healed people. But tonight, after an elbow to his nasal cartilage, he had enough.

Nurse Paige did as she was told, and she would, not just because a doctor had barked it at her, but because she knew who'd be waiting. The room was standard, but the knocked-over chair and the boxes with nitrile gloves torn down from the wall as well as the trashcan overturned, would corroborate the violence already retold on Adam's face. In the middle of it, another tall male was pacing. This one in a hoodie, matted in places, and blood on his hands and jaw.

Hayano Ketsuba hadn't liked coming here, the first time he did. Was a sign of weakness, wasn't it? He could mend himself. He didn't need a fucking doctor. But that time it had been severe. There was a scar along his side to commemorate, now covered with sorely bought tattoos from the River Parlor where all the storied Ritualists worked to needle art on Yakuza that had earned it. That's when he met Paige the first time. Had to have been years ago. Something about her clamed him down. It eventually led to him coming in more often. She was good at what she did. It was obvious she cared too much, but he probably needed that. Or wanted it.

Maybe that's why he'd cut the doc with his elbow, and asked for her. Haya's mind wasn't right. He knew that. He'd done it to himself. With shipments coming in for present-buying season, there was a lot of product to be moved. A lot of money to be made. He was just a jarhead in this asphalt war, and he knew it. But he wanted more. He wanted the better booze and the expensive girls, and he needed the respect and money that'd get him that. So he'd made a move. There were a lot of skeleton crews working big deals right now, and he found one that belonged to the enemy, with big money in their crates. Had to build his legend. Had to write it on their tombstones. And show them what growing up in the child-fighting league in their back alley and warehouse tournaments felt like. He hadn't counted the men in the crew. He heard they were speaking mandarin, and that meant the higher ups would be okay with him taking their shit.

But not even one of the feral kids from the pits could take down that many triad. Not on yesterday's dumplings and a can of sprite. Not in beat up sneakers. So he borrowed an untested upper from the Korean labs, downtown. And he went in. He didn't know how he'd done it, looking at himself now maybe this didn't qualify, but somehow he'd laid them all out, some of them forever, and called it in with swollen fingers. He was vibrating out of his head and stomping skulls by the time his people arrived. Told him good job, said there was good things coming his way. But he had to stich himself up. Lay low for a while so they had time to absorb the product.

And now he was here, with his nerves on the outside of his skin and his thoughts alternating between digging his teeth into someone's throat, or curling up in the corner, or fucking something to death. She saw him when she came in, all painfully starved muscle but with vast shoulders. The youth in his flesh still pulling his skin taut to his facial bones. Knuckles raw and jeans shredded. His heart slowed when he saw her, he sat on the edge of the bed like she usually told him, and he put his fingers in his hair so it wouldn't be in his eyes when he hunched over. "I... I did it, Paige." he breathed. "I told them I'd do it. I'm one of the kings now."

Though really, all Hayano was at that moment, was a quaking mess around the same age as her daughter.

 

[oropherion]

Paige was used to hectic, used to holding her bladder for hours beyond the call because other people’s problems were more important, and certainly was very used to crazy. It all came with the territory and being a nurse around fourteen years had developed a skill to bear through it. Some people crushed under the burden, shrank under the responsibility, and broke under the overwhelming demands that came with the role. Then there were those like her who grew stronger, more determined, and gained the skill to overcome the odds. It was something she took pride in and while there were many sad, awful cases that lingered on her mind when treatment and all their dedication couldn’t save a patient, it was those they managed to revive back to health that made it worth it. It was the flowers and gift boxes of gratitude that she would come to work and find on her desk, the hugs of the patients as they cried and thanked her, and most importantly the smiles that kept her going.


Paige especially loved the emergency clinic because of how demanding and fast paced it was. It kept her on her toes, every case was different but there were a lot of similar cases at the same time. It both made it easy to jump in and treat like a mechanical worker, but also challenged the brain to come up with new, unique, and potentially life altering treatment. Sometimes she would see a patient and never see them again while there were a few faces that would reoccur several times. Which was the case this evening. She was currently working with another woman that Dr. Kreisler had seen and sent here, taking her blood pressure, and speaking soothingly to her when said doctor came storming into the treatment room.


Paige immediately scowled at the abrupt entry that caused their poor patient to nearly jump out of her skin. She was about to give the man a proper lashing for his behavior and for his rather unprofessional words when she saw the bandaged nose and bruising and heard who the culprit was. A sigh passed her lips as she documented her readings on the patient’s chart and hung it on the bed as she inclined her head. “Understood, doctor. Ms. Hatton is ready for your exam.” She offered the woman a warm smile and a gentle squeeze to her arm before she hurried off to room 408.


It had already been nine hours into her fourteen hour shift. Her neatly styled hair that she had done up in a slicked back bun had fallen loose a couple hours ago. The thick brunette locks were now just twisted and clipped to the back of her scalp with wavy tendrils hanging loose around her flushed, oval face. She was tired and could certainly use a snack, but duty called and she found room 408 in a bit of disarray with a rather familiar young man pacing the middle of the mess. Shaking her head in mild amusement and perhaps a little bit of fondness, because despite his reckless, abrasive, and sometimes violent nature, she somehow had felt sorry for the kid. He was only a year older than her daughter so one could say it was a bit of a motherly instinct kicking in around someone who clearly didn’t have the easiest upbringing. Considering the many times he found himself here asking for her personally said something and the fact he trusted her enough to seek her out did fill her with a sense of pride and relief that she could provide support in some fashion. And to also help her colleagues out so they didn’t have to deal with the brunt of his attitude.


“Sit,” was all Paige had to say for the young Hayano to obey and sit on the edge of the medical bed. Her hazel eyes were firm, but filled with a bit of long suffering sympathy and warmth at the sight of the kid. It was amazing this kid didn’t just fly away with how thin and drawn he looked. Pulled taut like paper thin across bones with just the barest hint of muscle to showcase that he was indeed a young man who participated in gang activities. Clicking her tongue, the nurse made quick work to pick up the chair, the gloves, and garbage can on her way over to the bed, grabbing his rather thick chart at this point to see what all had been written for today on his intake form.


As Hayano spoke, Paige quirked a brow, resting the chart on one hip as she jutted out the other with her hand resting upon it. “Oh yeah, and how did that turn out for you?” She smirked, rolling her eyes, before she set the chart aside and slid on fresh gloves as she approached him. “So should I be calling you King Ketsuba now?” She teased as she lightly grasped his chin, lifting his face up as she grabbed a thin flashlight to shine into his eyes. They were red-rimmed and the pupils were blown which she made a mental note of that as she then turned his head side to side, up and down, inspecting all the bruising and battered flesh, before grabbing his hand and turning it upside down while she placed her index and middle fingers over his wrist to feel of his pulse. It was a bit erratic.


“Is being ‘king’ worth all of this? I don’t think it’s just adrenaline from the fight that’s got you this worked up.” Paige gave him a pointed look as she pulled down her stethoscope, pressing the diaphragm to his lower, mid back and had him take a few breaths, before repeating it at the front of his torso. She picked up his chart to make her notes as she peered at him from her peripheral. “Be honest with me, darling. What drug or drugs did you take today? You need a few stitches and I’m sure IV.” She remarked as she lifted his hands again and inspected his bloody, cracked fingers, noting their swelling.


Paige pulled up a stool on wheels and a tray full of disinfectant, gauze, and tools. She rested his right hand upon her knee as she pulled her glasses out of her jacket pocket, slid them on, and began to work carefully on cleaning his fingers and checking for any kind of foreign body in the cuts. “I just don’t get it, Haya. You are a smart boy, young, so many long years ahead of you, but you throw yourself into these situations where you never know if you are coming back out on your two feet or in a body bag. The high and the rush is only worth it for such a short amount of time.” She said calmly as she cleaned, fingers gentle despite the no doubt sting and pressure of her actions.

 

[Verse]

There hadn't been much in the way of care for Hayano. Not by his mother, whose face he remember partially from kissing it better, but also on the few times he walked in to her marital bedroom because of morbid curiosity and concern at her screams, and she looked back at him, gaping and hyperventilating, beaten up and with his father balls deep. He hadn't figured out that expression until recently. There was a lot of coming of age early, on the moonlit streets of Yareli. He remember smirking when he recognized that face on one of his usual girls. Strangely, he hadn't minded becoming his father in that aspect. Hayano wouldn't end up the same as that man, though. That was a significant fight he won, and the first time Paige had helped him out. He had been bad off, and she smelled good.

Looking at her now, coming in through the door, grounded him. Initially he'd jumped, set to pounce, but he recognized the short woman with the dark hair. Made him look at the mess on the floor in a new light, because it was her mess now. He didn't help, though. He watched as his skin crawled with anxious energy as she came closer while tidying up. At least he sat when she told him to. He grinned through his settling mania when she chastised him. He didn't get defensive with her. She honestly cared. He likes the way she talked. Didn't call her on not knowing shit about the world he lived in. He liked the shape of her face. It made it easier that she was pretty for a mom-age woman. Made him want to curl up against her and suck her tits. If he was making some maternal connection he hadn't thought about it much. Hayano had to be cerebral. That's how he kept the enemy's faces under his fists. Something shifted from boy to man when she put her gloves on, that always happened. Sure, he thought about fucking her, but that's not what she was for, right? Besides, he was never in a state to. Maybe it was out of some kind of affection that he skipped most of those impulses with her. And he usually had to go real quick again when he was here. Didn't really think about her and this place until he bled.

Worth it? He grinned with a latent, mischievous threat. Though, on the beat-up face and from the bloodied youngster, it may look as dangerous as he could be. The Koreans certainly had thought so. She sat close. He liked the way she wore her scrubs and how she rested things on her hip. Like he wasn't already painfully aware through his frantic mind that she was a woman. King Ketsuba. "Has a nice ring doesn't it?" He answered dryly. How would that title sound out of her lips when she was under him, cumming her nurse-education out of her brains? He tried to think of other things, like how someone had just wheezed their last breath on his forearm when he collapsed their trachea. It brought him a bit of peace as she shone that light into his damned skull. His other eye stared at her. He liked her hair this way. Fuck did she smell good tonight. A bit if sweat from working long. Ah, there were those images of what she might look naked again, going through his head. The eye turned down to the neckline of her work blouse, and what it could tell him of her rack. He didn't realize she was in the perfect position to see it.

She didn't have to tell him to take off the hoodie when she readied her stethoscope. It ruffled his hair on its way off. She'd seen some of the tattoos before. Some were fresh, though. He'd been moving up lately. And the ones he'd get tonight would make him matter. There were long muscle underneath the skin. This close, he was reminded of how much he towered over her. The stethoscope was usually cold, but tonight he barely felt it.

"Took some courage before I went in." He confessed. That's what they called it when they handed it to him. "It did the job." He told her. He could be honest with Paige. Though he tried not to mention he wondered how she groomed her pussy, and if her husband fucked her well on her days off. Shit. The drugs were doing a number on him. In her mind she was screaming as her pussy was destroyed by his cock. Bet Paige had a good voice.

He woke from the vivid, induced daydream, when she guided his hand to her knee. He squeezed dumbly to try her texture. His thumb found the groove on the side of the cap. There was a resurgence of energy in him when she started on the other hand. She smelled even better when her work musk mixed up with the medical alcohol and his rehydrated blood. He squeezed her knee and a little higher, toward the softness of her thigh, to brace himself from the thoughts. That's not what Paige was for. But the anger that came with the Courage he'd taken was also annoyed with her for pretending this wasn't a big deal. Maybe it could be what she was for.

"Short highs are pretty good, though, nurse McCarthy." His voice was 6 feet deep, despite his youth. At least the hand she was fixing stayed still. His pulse was coming in quicker though. "Maybe that's why you're ER and not ped. Bet you're an adrenaline junkie too." It wasn't out of the ordinary for him, they could joke around. But his time was different. He looked at her different.

He pulled his hand back, in whatever state it was, so he could press the ball of his palm against one red eye for comfort as the blaring surge of aggression and everything primal throbbed through his skull. He breathed faster and barely noticed as his other hand crawled higher on the I side of her leg. And he definitely didn't notice his cock lifting his broken jeans until it was painfully straining against the restraint. His muscles tensed up. There was death and carnage and Paige's tits on his mind.

His teeth were grinding and he was all but mashing his eyeball into his brain, shaking. "Maybe I gotta go." He said with foam at one corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I think imma kill something if I can't get some release." The new but battered body in front of the nurse was drawn tight in it's sinew and ink designs, and rearing to stand up. The bulge, it's height and length, betrayed a monster that contradicted the Athletic skinny build of the rest of his body.