Sworded Affair

Chapter 126: What Does the Fox Say?

[Bonus Objective updated!

??? >> Subdue the Matriarch’s Scorn without killing it.]

Emma cursed, twisting her wrists just in the nick of time to land a blow with the flat of her blade instead of the edge. The force of it sent the Matriarch’s Scorn flying off the table, barely missing the surgeon as the latter dove for cover, but crucially his head remained attached to the rest of him. Tossing Epitaph aside, Emma dove on top of him and began to grapple.

[-200 Anima]

She took an elbow to the face for her trouble, causing enough pain to be noticeable even through the dulled senses of her armour.

Unnaturally strong, Emma realised at once, as she struggled to hold the possessed man in place.

She’d expected to be dealing with a severely wounded man, not whatever this was turning out to be, and her limitations quickly became apparent. Emma’s body’s size and weight played against her; she still had the edge in strength, but lacked the bulk to easily pin her opponent and keep him down. That, combined with a reluctance to apply deadly force, left Emma with few options but to grab his limbs and hope for the best.

[-200 Anima]

Unfortunately, two hands weren’t enough to cover four limbs, leaving her exposed to blows as the Matriarch’s Scorn continued to flail wildly without a care for its own well-being.

“Sedatives!” The surgeon yelled, having recovered from his shock enough to grab a needle, his voice spurring his assistants to do likewise.

But whilst that meant all five of them were armed and ready, getting close enough to make the sedatives count was another matter entirely. The medics were understandably wary of the patient’s limbs, given that even a glancing kick left a noticeable dent in the cabin wall; none of them had Emma’s durability if things went badly. They took turns cautiously approaching, but every time they got close their target’s flailing increased in intensity, the Matriarch’s Scorn never leaving enough time for anyone to try and inject.

[-200 Anima]

“Sod it.”

Eventually, after a minute that saw a total lack of progress, whilst Emma took a vicious headbutt trying to hold the patient still, one of the orderlies lost patience. Pulling a dart pistol from the medicine cabinet, he shot the struggling man in the thigh, then loaded a second needle and did it again.

[-100 Anima]

Unlike in certain spy films, the tranquillisers didn’t take effect immediately; Emma still had to keep the man occupied while the Ketamine started to work, a gradual process that saw her opponent steadily weaken, his movements losing ferocity and speed over two very long minutes.

“Finally,” Emma sighed as the man slackened, his eyes going glassy as he began to dissociate.

[Bonus Objective: Subdue the Matriarch’s Scorn without killing it. (Complete)

Quest: One Small Favour (Complete)

Homunculus (Level 0) >> Half-Demon Homunculus (Level 1)

Half-Demon Homunculus (Level 1): An artificial body in Emma's original likeness. Now with extra damnation.

System integration complete.

Homunculus is now eligible for Goetian classes upon level up.

For resolving one thread of a nasty plot, you gain a Fox (Level 0)]

One big, red and bushy-tailed fox landed on the hospital bed, took a slow look around the room’s gobsmacked occupants, and promptly began to chew on the bed sheet.

“Very funny,” The shooter deadpanned, head turning back and forth between his dart pistol and the fox. “I know this is only supposed to be for animal use, but you didn’t have to rub it in.”

“He doesn’t look very injured,” The surgeon observed, kneeling down to examine the sleeping man on the floor. “Are you sure he took a claw to the neck?”

“Right along the side, just here,” Emma confirmed, tracing a line with her fingertip for emphasis.

[Possession is generally a bad thing, but there are some benefits; healing for one.]

“Well, he looks fine now. Physically, at least,” The surgeon added, taking his pulse for good measure. “Let’s get him restrained in a secure room, in case he’s angry when he wakes up again.”

Settling back into the detached professionalism of a man who made a career in high-stakes operations, he barked out orders that saw the four orderlies grab a limb each, bodily pulling the unconscious man out of the operating theatre. The surgeon himself was quick to follow, grabbing the patient's chart along the way and closing the door behind him. Abruptly forgotten about, Emma turned to the only other person in the room. The fox stared back in confusion.

“Let’s agree that the last five minutes never happened, alright?”

The fox whined, both cheeks bulging with cloth.

—

Noah rose from his desk, wringing his wrists to work some of the soreness away. With computers a thing of the past, all the documentation involved in managing the growing town was being done the old fashioned way; with pen, paper, and more writing than he’d done since he was a schoolboy. The knocking at the door was a welcome distraction; a reminder to get up, stretch and walk around for a bit. He took a minute to do so, before heading to see who was there; most people needing him left a note at the office rather than coming to his home. He saw nobody upon opening the door, until something jumped onto his shoulders.

“Oh, you’re back,” Noah smiled, reaching around to pet Saint. “Eating well too, given how heavy you are now!”

He got a smack to the nose for the temerity of mentioning a lady’s weight, making him sneeze and tilt his head downward; coincidentally, this left him at the perfect angle to spot the potted plant on the floor.

“Did someone bring flowers?” Noah wondered. “I’ve talked to a few people about sprucing up the garden, now that the house is seeing regular use.”

[Potted Plant: Harmless to you.]

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Noah headed outside with Saint still hanging off of him, Noah looking for a good place for the pot.