- That ain’t supposed to do that, ain’t it?
Kirrah spat some blood, pressing harder on the wound:
- Which part? You bleeding out? Or you getting freaking stabbed in the shoulder near the artery? Cause at least one of those ought not to happen yeah …
At least the moron knew enough not to remove the shard of glass, sticking from its shoulder, after a bar fight, giving him enough time to reach her door as the shard more or less reduced the blood loss.
- Don’t you have something fo’ the pain?
Kirrah scowled:
- Don’t worry, it won’t hurt when the brain flow to your brain stop and you turn into a vegetable.
At this point, it seemed the artery was punctured, but not torn, or the poor sod was as good as dead. But preventing it from ripping with the blood pressure might be … challenging.
Suddenly Kirrah got an idea.
She took some drug on her counter, and put it under the nose of her patient:
- Breathe it.
The terrified thug did without a second thought, suddenly becoming immobile and soft.
The narcotic Kirrah gave him induced a state of near death if used in the proper amount, slowing the heart beat drastically and inducing an artificial coma of sort. Kirrah then used the opportunity of the slowed blood flow to grab a scalding iron and pressed it on the wound, burning the flesh into a nasty scar, but stopping the loss of blood.
At this point, Kirrah had more or less done everything in her capacity considering her level of skill. The rest was up to lady luck, the will of the Mona, or any other cosmic entity finding worthy of it’s celestial time to come down and breath life into a low-level thug.
The two mates of the thugs, that were gnashing their teeth nervously so far, came closer to him, checking on him, seeing no reaction, they got closer and started handling him until one of them started yelping:
- You fucking butcher. He’s dead!
Kirrah got closer to the body, saying with annoyance :
- What? No, his pulse is just slowed by the drugs, see? He’s just …
Kirrah checked his pulse and raised her eyebrows:
- … Oh yeah, he’s definitely dead. Might have used a bit too much narcotics considering he was already weakened. Food for thought as they said.
Kirrah turned to the two thugs and just said:
– Which of your gentleman will settle my bill then?
The man that spoke earlier answered with anger:
- We wo’t pay you for some butchered work!
Kirrah smiled and answered
– Then you know the drill, the body is mine to experiment upon, so I guess it’s good night gentlemen. You can go back to whatever fancy soiree you were enjoying
The man was starting to be fuming, and reached for his blade, when Kirrah shut it down with a gaze colder than the embrace of death:
– I don’t make the rules, Silas do. If you’re unhappy with them, take it to the big boss. I might not yet be the best doctor in this whole continent, but at least I treat your kind when you knock at my door for an affordable fee, per the Bad Brothers agreement. Most people walk out of here alive, yet not always on two legs that’s true, but alive nonetheless, so you better not antagonize me when you might be the next one needing my “butcher knife”
The two thugs then stormed of while throwing random insult at the “bitch viper” as some had started to call her. On her part, Kirrah was checking quickly on the corpse, verifying he was definitely dead before cutting him open to try and see where it went wrong.
A quick knock at the door reminded her of previous engagement. Silas had made a query for her skill in the field of narcotics. She was to head toward the Muluku island with some new contractor Silas hired to check on a new grower and organize the supply chain.
Kirrah walked to the door, still covered in blood, ready to welcome in the usual Bad Brother goon.
When she opened the door, she couldn’t prevent herself from saying out loud:
– You have to be kidding me …