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Lars - Bullet Sponge — Description

The air was a miasma of cigarette smoke, methane, and other less savory chemical smells. A heavy smoke trail hung in the air so think that Lars swore if she reached out she could have plucked it from the air like an errant thread.
“Look Doc, they’re bigger, trust me, I know.” Lars grumbled and tried to make herself comfortable. “All I need you to do is tell me is why.”
Fidgeting, she tried to settle herself on the space the doctor had cleared for her on the table, or what he lovingly referred to as “The Slab”. It was what he had used for all his medical operations, both major and minor in nature. Checkups were no exception. And if you didn’t like it, you could see yourself out or go die somewhere in the wasteland for all he cared.
“Growing. Right. Growing.” The doctor muttered, as he leafed through a small leather bound book that he had lovingly called Lars’ medical history. She was still not convinced that the doctor could even read, and hadn’t ever found out what his real name was. Instead, like anyone who darkened his doorstep, she had only known him as Doc.
Still, despite her misgivings, she had done right by him so far and he had patched her up more than once while she was on the slab. Sure, he was a perverted old fool, usually in a chemical induced stupor more often than not, but she had seen a hardness in him and could still see it now. Like old wood, and a face to match, that would send hardened raiders fleeing in terror if viewed in the wrong light.
He was also a hopeless ladies man, or so he liked to think, and had more than once, misplaced, a hand while in the middle of an operation. Lars had learned to tolerate that, as it was rather hard to find any medical man willing to work on her, and breaking said doctor’s wrist was not a great way to ensure she didn’t bleed out. And, after a year or two she had gotten used to him and his oddities, a stray hand finding one of her breasts and gently squeezing while he fished more led out of her belly was a small price to pay on top of the outrageous sum of caps she was already pushing on him every time she had to visit.
“Yes – their bigger, swollen, and becoming sensitive too.” Lars grumbled, shaking her head. She had stripped down at the doctor’s request and was seated on the slab, chest thrust forwards. “Look, just tell me why and I’ll get out of what is left of your patchy hair. Doc, doc! You paying any attention over there?”
“What – Yes, breasts. Yes. Bigger. Definitely bigger.” Doc managed, stuffing a gnawed pencil into his mouth, the thing was half chewed through already and on occasion he had to stop to spit wood pulp onto the floor. “And, you haven’t changed your diet? Been fucking bramen, or supermutants, something simple to explain this?”
Lars leered at him and debated if it was worth it to try and locate something heavy that she could use as an impromptu ballistic weapon on the sham. Unfortunately, the doctor seemed to have learned his lesson the first time and had hastily cleared anything that wasn’t bolted down out of arms reach.
Drawing on her wellspring of patience, Lars instead took in a deep breath, held it for a four count, and let it back out again.
“No Doc.” She managed through gritted teeth, before grinning and flashing him her violet blue eyes. “But there was this roaming pack of death claws I stumbled upon…”
She let that image hang in the air and savored the doctor’s slack jawed expression. Only when he began scribbling furiously in his notebook did her expression sour.
“That was a joke you old quack!”
“Mmmh, hmmm.”
“Fuck you! What are you writing in there! Give me that or I swear I will break your fingers like the dried twigs they are!”
“Ah aahhh! Ah!” The doctor snapped the journal shut and held it behind his back with one hand while warding her off with the other. “Doctor patient confidentiality!”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I don’t share your medical history with anyone – including you! Now sit your striped ass down, or I won’t take a look at you.”
Lars kneejerk reaction was to strangle the man, she hadn’t even realized she had sprung from the slab and advanced several paces on him, but, after several more deep breaths she returned to the slab and sat.
“Make it quick you old fraud.” She grumbled. “I have people to kill, and now you’ve got my blood up.”
Seemingly mollified, the doctor grumbled, turned and placed the journal into a small safe next to what passed for his desk, and locked it, before returning his attention to her.
“You know, one of these days you’re going to seek out more bad news than you can handle, and that day it’s going to bite you in the ass harder than an angry death claw.”
“And one day, you are going to overdose on whatever shit you keep clogging your veins with and die a truly horrible death.” Lars sniped back and was more than a little happy to see the doctor smile, his hand unconsciously rising to rub at the crook of his left arm. “Now, are you going to stare or work? I didn’t come her for life advice.”
Shaking his head, Lars swore she saw something in his gaze, there for a moment, then gone behind a careful mask of uncaring apathy as the doctor lit up a cigarette and took a deep draft. Turning her head away, she shook her head, she knew what that look meant, and hadn’t wanted to see it.
As the silence grew pregnant, the doctor finally broke it.
“Right.” He said, his voice calm, detached. Professional. “Right, alright my fucked up little pony, lets take a look at you. Lay back and hold still, or I’ll get the straps out.”
Over the next hour, the doctor poked and prodded her, his hands lingering over her breasts, squeezing them, pinching her nipples, and muttering into an audio recorder the entire time. Lars only caught fragments and was sure she understood as much as the tape recorder.
“Subject doesn’t appear to be lactating… Swollen…Prestigious. Blood samples should know in an hour or two. No scar tissue, despite previous injury… Muscle recovery. Need to run a radiological examination. Subject is still a foul tempered son of a bitch.”
Test after test, some of which she was sure the doctor was making up, as he wanted to convince himself that he was a real doctor, or more likely had stumbled across a picture of in one of his arcane textbooks. He siphoned off several vials of her blood, and hand ran some old-world tech over her body from hips to the nape of her neck muttering to himself the entire time. Lastly, he held an old-fashioned Giger counter up to her and had practically dropped it on her chest when the thing started screaming.
Apparently, this was not the results he had expected as the doctor had excused himself suddenly to suck down some Rad-X and two more cigarettes.
Returning, now with a led apron on, he sat down beside her and pulled out the last crumpled cigarette from the pack offering it to her. Lars frowned, it wasn’t like the doctor to give up something so precious.
“You, uh, know these things will kill you right?” Lars made a half smile, it was an old joke, one they were both familiar with from the start. “That good prognosis I take it.”
Flicking to life an old silver lighter, the doctor held the flame to the tip until the nub burned a bright cherry. Slowly Lars accepted the gift and stuck it between her lips, God, no wonder the doc looked like death warmed over.
“Well, let me put it this way – if you were a ghoul, I wouldn’t be concerned.”
“Mmmmmh.” Lars grunted.
“Gets better.” The doc said, leaning back and letting the smoke curl from his mouth into the hazy air around the cluttered room. “That alien whats-a-majigger in your abdomen is giving off all kinds of strange readings. Not really sure what that is about, but I doubt it is good.”
Lars winced, the doctor was one of the few people who knew about that thing inside her, courtesy of an abduction a year back, that still rankled, little green men. It was a story she didn’t share, or talk about, with anyone. Ever.
“Long short, as soon as your blood is done, I’ll be able to give you a better diagnosis, but I am pretty sure I know what the test is going to tell me already.”
“Let me guess, I have more rads than a glowing one?”
“Not quite that bad.” The doctor lifted his head up to look at her, managing a half smile. “But near enough. Look, if you were a perso- uh, human, I would pump you full of rad-away, slam you with a full blood transfusion, and give you a week to live.”
“But…” Lars ground her teeth, that she wasn’t human, wasn’t a ghoul either, had always been a source of tension. There was nothing like her on the wasteland, and that hurt.
“But, you aren’t dead.” The doctor said, slowly curling back forwards, letting his arms slump down between his spread legs. “God knows you should be. Best I can tell, that whatsit in near your kidneys is working double overtime to keep you alive. How or why are beyond me, and I’m not about to try and poke the thing a second time.”
Lars recalled all too well how successful the first poke had gone.
“Shit.” The doctor said shaking his head. “Look, while I was poking around, I found a little bit of good news, lodged just under your fifth rib. Guess it’s been there for a while, I could pull that for you if you like. Free of charge this go around.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Lars shook her head with amused disbelief.
“Death bed surgery Doc?” She asked with a smile. Truthfully it had been paining her when she was exerting herself, but what else was new. “Heck, go ahead. Not like I have anything else planned for tonight.”
“Alright back on the slab – and get ready for some night night drugs.”
The procedure took the better part of four hours and was a little more uncomfortable than Lars would like to admit. But somewhere between the third and fourth hour the doctor emitted a bark of satisfaction and pulled the offending hunk of led free.
“There, a bit of luck, you want to keep this one?” He asked looking down at her.
Through the haze of pain killers, Lars could barely make out the words, but this was an old dance, and she didn’t need to understand what the doctor was saying. Shaking her head she tried to wave him off, but her arm didn’t want to respond to her brain’s commands. Instead, her fingers did a bit of an awkward twitch, and she managed a slurred moan of approval.
“Mine it is then.” The doctor grinned. “And don’t mind if I do.”
Shut up you old fraud, Lars tried to say, but the words just didn’t want to come out with any kind of meaningful sense.
Several hours later, enough feeling came back to her that Lars was able to shake the cobwebs out of her head.
“Fuck. Ass – you old meat saw – what did you do to my ribs?”
“Back from the land of the dead, and just as grouchy as before.” The doctor managed with a benign smile. “As for your ribs I decided to pull a few spares you had and use them for grilling later today.”
“Bastard.” Lars groaned, letting her head sink back. He hadn’t really done that, she could tell. It was the same with any kind of surgery, it just hurt like hell, and was going to keep hurting for a good happily ever after. “You still building that stupid statue in the back room?”
The doctor smiled, sitting down next to her, and lighting another cigarette, the man smoked more than a chimney. “Just as sure as your going to keep running around in that black leather bikini of yours trying to soak up bullets like a sponge. You know, if I didn’t love your business so much I may even suggest you invest in some body armor.”
“You know doc,” Lars matched his same mocking tone. “If you weren’t such a charming fellow I would bury you in your own shack.”
“Ha! If I wasn’t such an old softy, you would have died from lead poisoning three times over already!”
Despite herself, Lars smiled. It was old banter, a familiar way of him bringing her out of the pain killers embrace and back to reality. Slowly she shifted, easing herself off the slab and gingerly looking at the wraps around her middle. The doctor grimaced but didn’t say anything, knowing all too well she wouldn’t listen to him if he did.
“Thanks Doc.” Lars said, trying not to wince, she needed a drink, and knew just where to get one too. She had managed to wobble halfway to the door when she paused, using one of the walls to steady herself. “Look, Doc – Don’t go doing something reckless on me, okay?”
The doctor snorted at that, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ashes to the floor.
“If I didn’t know better, I swore that almost sounded like compassion in your voice.” He dulled out with a half smile. “Best watch yourself, don’t want to give people the impression that you have feelings or something.”
Snorting, Lars turned, shook her head and stomped out the door, her satchel now much depleted of caps, and her body a little lighter.