Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Paul loathed his "employers", he'd caught their attention a few weeks back, saving a bystander who'd caught a bullet in one of their hits. Someone had seen the man's shoulder fix itself up and took note, and soon the gang had scooped him up and set him to work patching up hoodlums. Paul wasn't ready for this. He'd been taking first aid classes, reading up on anatomy, and yet he was still unsure about his power. He sold himself short, told them it was just healing. People a little higher up had caught attention, and then they had him moved down by the docks, stitching up whoever they put in front of him. It wasn't healing, he could tell their bodies to do what he wanted. Heal faster, make new tissue, and their last doctor was kept around to clean the wounds and take out any shrapnel. He'd been a nice man once, nobody takes the oath if they intend to wind up like this, but he'd overheard some of the muscle mention that the guy had taken a few too many loans, got in deep, and never surfaced again. Paul tried to play by their rules, but his mind could wander, and he started getting a little vindictive about his situation. Some scars would resurface in a weeks time, itching like mad. One man had insulted him the whole time through his treatment, and his skin was a mess of boils where the hole in his chest had patched up. The man decided not to complain, Paul claimed he'd been distracted. Of course, then they mixed things up. Some strange foreign girl, comatose, spent her time sputtering and coughing, temperature running wild. Supposedly she had some kind of talent, bosses wanted her in good health. She'd been awake only once in those early days. Paul had been feeding her when her eyes had opened with a start, and she'd disappeared. Just, vanished off her bed. They found her outside the warehouse, vomiting and barely able to stand. After that they had Paul locked up with her, told him to keep her from choking in the night if she was sick again.
