Episode: 7.1

--- Ozzy Creed ---

He nervously a tapped his fingers against the table.

The nurse watched him for a moment before putting a thermometer in his mouth.

A part of him wondered how he could screw up so badly.

Another wondered how the hell he was getting out of this.

The thermometer started beeping.

“So, mind telling me how you ended up here?” the nurse asked, removing the thermometer.

(Red eyes… Fear… Pain… Cold…)

He shook his head, both in answer, and an attempt to rid himself of the memory.

“Didn’t think so…” the nurse sighed, with a wry grin.

The nurse frowned giving the thermometer a second look, “That’s not good…”

(She knows!)

His eyes jumped to hers in panic.

“Hey, hey… It’s okay.” The nurse told him soothingly, though some part of him just knew she was lying.

(This is bad, this is bad, this is bad…)

The woman winced at whatever face he was making.

“Okay, so it’s not normal,” she admitted, “but we can’t say it’s bad unless we do a few more tests.”

“W-what do you mean?” he hated the way he stuttered, he never stuttered before-

(Fangs… Claws… Metal… Rot…)

He couldn’t repress the shaky breath that escaped him.

The nurse hmm-ed, in that non-committal way that said a lot more than it was meant to.

“Just the usual things, maybe a blood test if things are really difficult.”

He ran a hand down his face with a wry laugh.

(Damn it… this is the last thing I need…)

The nurse watched him out of the corner of her eye for a moment, “You know I don’t have anything personal against Deviants.”

It took him a minute to figure out what she was saying, it took him less to let out a wry laugh, “Neither do I.”

(Then again, I’m pretty sure everyone has something against my kind of Deviancy…)

The nurse gave him a look that was halfway between concern and understanding before turning back to… (whatever she’s working on.)

He took a deep breath, counting to ten, before letting it out.

(Okay… she thinks I’m a Deviant…)

That was an okay thing.

(Which I kind of am…)

That was an alright thing.

(I just have to make sure they don’t realize what my Deviancy is.)

That was a sure thing.

(And… I have no idea what my tell-tales are…)

That… was a not so good thing.

(Shit.)

He shook his head, sincerely regretting the fact that he ignored those Sanctuary Deviant Awareness seminars at school.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

The nurse sighed, before repeating herself, “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

His eyes drifted to the floor, and he discovered he was having a surprisingly hard time getting them to look anywhere else.

“Thought so…” the woman murmured, taking his silence as all the answer she needed.

The nurse bit her lip before letting her eyes drift around the room, clearly thinking about something important. (Something more than likely involving me…)

Eventually the woman’s eyes fell on him and after a moment she ended up nodding to herself, having decided on whatever she was thinking about.

“My name’s Trish.”

He paused, for a moment a hand idly drifting up to scratch at the dog-collar he wore to cover up the scar on his neck, before glancing at the nurse… Trish.

“Ozzy.” he finally caved.

Trish gave him a soft smile before looking around the room a bit.

“Look, if you, um…” Trish started a bit awkwardly, before trying again as she rubbed the back of her neck. “If you want I’ve got a spare couch you can sleep on for a couple of days, at least until we sort out whatever is wro-” she bit her lip, cutting herself off, “I mean, once we know what caused you to pass out.”

(HuNgEr…)

“That’s…” He swallowed down that still foreign instinct, before giving the nurse an apologetic smile. “I don’t want to, uh,” (hurt you…) “to impose…”

“You wouldn’t be.” Trish assured him, in a way that while kind only made his actual concerns worse, especially as he felt a rumbling in his stomach that seemed to echo throughout his whole body.

Trish frowned giving him a look. “Hm, if you want, I can grab you something from the vending machines. I mean, we are going to be here for a bit.”

“You don’t…” He stopped himself from outright dismissing her offer, as a thought occurred to him, “Actually, could you?”

Trish gave him a nod as she made her way to the door. “Anything in particular?”

“Um…” He honestly didn’t care as long as she left for a minute. “Nothing spicy.”

He remembered the lone vending machine he’d seen in the building having almost nothing but hot chips and candies for some odd reason.

Trish almost imperceptibly winced, probably knowing about the lack of such snacks since she worked there. “Yeah… uh, I’ll see what I can I do.”

Once he was sure Trish was gone, he moved to the wall furthest from the front of the building, hoping there was an alley or something on the other side.

(Okay, now then how do I do this?)

He looked at his hand and the wall before pressing his palm against the wall and pushing.

(J-just go… through… the stupid wall!)

Cracks began to appear in the wall around his hand, forcing him to pull back with a hissed, “Damn it!” before he could cause more notable damage.

Shaking out the ache that had been building in his wrist as he tried to break the laws of physics in a way, and gave his hand another once over, taking note of the little scrapes and scars that had built up over the weeks since his… awakening.

“Okay… brute forcing it doesn’t work…” He murmured to himself as he placed his hand on a new section of wall. “Meaning I’ve got to finesse this a bit…”

Taking a calming breath, he forced himself to try and remember some of the things his sister used to go on about in her Deviant Psychology classes in college.

(Alright, for most Deviants their basic deviancies are a mix of will and instinct, so…)

He closed his eyes to block out any outside distractions, and once more pushed against the wall, making sure to apply as little actual force as possible this time.

“Okay, through the wall this time.” He told himself, forcing himself to stay calm and keep the family temper in check.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt something begin to give as a cold sensation began to spread up his arm from the palm of his hand, until finally… he slipped and smashed his face into the wall.

“Damn it…” He whined rubbing his face. “That wasn’t supposed to happen…”

Shaking off the faint ache that echoed from everywhere that hit the wall, he realized there was an odd… double chill coming from his arm.

(The hell?)

He took one look at the arm he’d had pressed against the wall, and nearly gave himself a heart attack.

Sticking out from his elbow were the bones of his ulna, radius, and hand while the meat of his arm flopped around lifelessly from the same point.

(Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!!)

His eyes darted around as he had to force himself to look at the place where he’d (phased the bones out of my fucking arm!!!)

“Calm… calm… calm… fucking calm down man…” He whimpered aloud, trying to force down the overwhelming sense of panic slowly consuming him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the hand he hadn’t (fucked up beyond all reason) made its way towards his face, before the side of one his fingers found its way into his mouth.

Pain pierced through the panic pilfering his senses and pushed back the pulse pounding dread that had consumed him as it let his mind focus on something else.

A coppery taste filled his mouth, the substance somehow bitter, sweet, and sour all at the same time as his stomach both growled for more and rolled at the lack of actual sustenance in the off-color plasma.

“Shit!” He cursed as his panic subsumed, and the pain became more prominent. “Hate when I do that!”

Shaking off the sting, he gave his hand a glance to make sure he hadn’t fucked himself up worse, only to notice a distinct lack of injury on his hand, and no signs that there had been one beyond a faint green substance slowly fading from his index finger.

“Right… healing factor…” (forgot about that…)

With a grimace, he grit his teeth together and forced himself to look at his injured arm, half hoping it would’ve started fixing whatever he’d done to it.

“Guess this isn’t an actual injury…” He laughed grimly, as he forced down the bile that tried to escape him at the sight of his arm…(s?)

“Alright, well… if healing factor isn’t fixing it, then I should be able to fix it myself…” (unless I fucked it up bad enough to cripple myself for the rest of my life.)

He purposely ignored that thought, before making his way over to a counter lined in various medical supplies and laying the meat of his arm on a cleared portion of it.

(Okay… phased my arm out, just got to phase it back in…)

Some morbid little piece of his mind was fascinated by the fact that he could somehow move his bones without any muscles, while the reverse didn’t seem possible, something that went against what little he knew about anatomy.

On the other hand, the much saner portion of his mind was busy trying not to have another panic attack as he was forced to hold down the boneless meat of his arm, something that caused irrepressible shivers down his spine.

(Inhale… one, two, three, four… exhale… one, two, three, four…)

Clearing his mind of all (horrifying) thoughts, he slowly pressed his bones back into his flesh, trying to once more will the chilling sensation from earlier.

(Inhale… one, two, three, four… exhale… one, two, three, four…)

An idle part of his mind took note of the odd way his began to mist as he exhaled.

The majority of his focus however was on the fact that starting at his elbow, his bones were slowly phasing back into place inch by inch, until finally as his wrist met his flesh, his entire arm spasmed violently as if possessed. For a split second he could’ve sworn he saw his arm in three places at once, before with a brief flicker of static, his arm locked back into place with his bones back in their proper place.

“Okay, that was… weird…” He commented to himself as he gave his hand a once over to make sure everything really was in its proper place, before finally shaking his head with a sigh. “Must’ve been… my nerves reconnecting and… an afterimage or… something…”

(I’ve got enough on plate without worrying about whatever that was…)

He was so lost in his thoughts, that the sound of the door opening caused him to nearly jump out of his skin (possibly literally) as he turned to see Trish stepping into the room, her arms filled with a few bottles of water and a bunch of cracker packets.

“Okay, it took me a minute but I managed to find a bunch of crackers stashed in the…” Trish paused as she noticed him standing in the middle of the room, a look of concern slowly making its way to her face. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah…” He sighed. (Just getting used to being dead…)