Life's Left Hook

You start wrapping her wings in bandages, careful not to hurt her too much.

"Anything else? I need to know everything you know, Anonymous."

"Well, the other-you said I should know 'fuck all'."

Spitfire deadpans, a defeated look on her face.

"Perfeeeeeect."

"But I do know one thing."

"What?"

"Uh, the Hooviets or whatever invited us to an event to improve relations."

"The Hooviets WHAT?!"

You recoil in shock from her yell, but continue.

"They invited us to a military parade. They want to improve relations."

"Because THAT doesn't sound fishy at all."

"...Uh..."

Spitfire sighs at your evident obliviousness, and sighs.

"Look, I'll talk later. Now? We need to find a way to get me to this doctor."

"Oh. Okay. I can do that."

"Get her. Now. Please."

"Wait, before you go."

"Yeah?"

"We need to find a way to smuggle me with you."

"Can't you just wa... Oh, yeah."

"Yes, Anonymous, it's blatantly obvious I can't walk. Now, how are we going to get my ass with you guys? I take it you're taking a train to your next stop?"

"Eeyup. Guadeloope, I think."

"In Prance?"

"Yup."

"Good, and good. Prance has no security on the entering side, and trains even less so. It'll be easy... If we can find a way, that is."

"Well, uh... Fuck."

You were drawing a blank here.

"Look, you think about that, I'll go grab the doctor."

"Hurry back. Please."

With that, you walk out of the room and into the hotel.

You see the Doctor, sitting in the lobby with Trixie and Scootaloo.

They wave at you as they see you enter, and you wave back.

"Hey," you say, a light smile.

They all say their hellos as you approach them.

As soon as you're within hearing distance, you look at Cuore.

"...Okay, so, Doc. We have a situation."

She looks at you, ears perked.

"Oh? Hm?"

You nod, directing to the door.

"Yeah. Come outside with me, quick?"

"Erm, of course?"

You motion for her to follow, heading towards the door.

Trixie and Scootaloo look a little confused as Cuore exits, but they don't say anything.

As you turn your back on them, you head outside, and make your way around the building.

As you step into the night, and the door closes behind Cuore, you hear her speak up.

"...You know, I vas vondering if you vere ever going to make a move on me..."

...wait, wut

"I beg your pardon?"

The doctor chuckles darkly, a clear lustful tone in her voice.

"Don't play dumb, Anonymous. Spending so much time out back? Asking me to come outside vith a face as red as yours? In ze dead of ze night? It's not zat hard to put together."

...Does...

Does doc think you're coming onto her?

"Okay, doc, as much as I'd like to ravage your ass"

"—Ooh, my—"

"There are more important things to attend to."

With that, you grab the handle to the closet and swing it open.

"Such as this!"

The doctor looks at you in confusion, and then notices the curled up Spitfire in the box.

Her brain freezes u as she tries to take in what she's seeing, and a moment later, it catches up to her.

"...Vhat's in Celestia's sveet vorld?!"

You grab her shoulder, getting her attention.

"Look, doc, you can ask questions later, and I'll be happy to give you more intel. But, right now? Spitfire has a plethora of broken bones, gashes, and other problems. You need to help her. Now."

She looks at Spitfire again, and rushes over.

"Didn't I just see you a minute ago, marshal?! Valking out of ze hotel?" she asks, looking Spitfire over.

Spitfire sighs. "Nope. Wasn't me, doctor. It was a fraud."

You can tell the doctor's heart stops for a split second, and her calculating eyes go wide.

"...Okayokayokay, I need to grab my medical eqvipment. Zis is incredibly bad, and not just because your bones have ze consistency of orange juice vith pulp. Anonymous, hold ze fort, make sure nobody sees Marshall Spitfire. I'll be back immediately."

With that, the doctor absconds.

When the door closes, the first thing that Spitfire does is yell.

"What the hell?! You're in cahoots with the royal doctor?!"

All you can do is nod.

"Eeyup, I am."

"She's tagging along with you guys?"

"Eeyup, she is."

"Oh, dear god, the conspiracy runs deeper than I thought."

You look at her, cocking an eyebrow.

"You know?"

She looks at you.

"I do. Only three of us know about the doctor and her way of doing things. Cadance, who told me and Shining. Just us. Not even the sun goddess knows, and the only reason I know is because I caught her in a lie not that long ago."

You're about to ask, but she cuts you off.

"And, no, I'm not explaining right now. I'll explain later, since it's a long and incredibly ridiculous story. But, for now? Please, for the love of god, could you get me a drink so I don't have to taste blood and vomit for another half an hour?!"

You nod.

"Uh, sure, I can," you say, heading to the door.

"Nonono, Anonymous, you're in the janitor's closet. There's probably a faucet here somewhere. And, no, I don't give a shit if the water's dirty. Just give it to me, somehow!"

"Uh, I don't have a cup."

"You have hands, don't you?"

You glance at your hands for a moment.

"...I guess that'll work."

"Yes, yes it will. Please hurry. I don't want to taste last week's mach nachos any more than I have to. Speaking of food, I'm hungry as hell, and I'm probably anhydrous, at this point. I'm going to need some sustenance soon," she says, exasperated.

"And I'll get you BOTH as soon as I can. But, I'm limited on options here," you say, walking up to a nearby dirty sink.

The thing is filthy, and looks like it's used to empty the mop bucket, but it's all you got.

"I can tell. And I appreciate it."

You turn the faucet on, and cup both of your hands together.

Your hands are filled and dripping, but they can work as a cup.

You carefully walk over to Spitfire, kneeling down and bringing your hands down to her face.

She reaches forward, and when she's close enough, she starts lapping up the water in your hands with her tongue.

Her warm tongue tickles to the touch, but you resist giggling.

Once she's gotten all she could get, she licks her lips and looks up at you.

"...Fuck, that tasted like dirt... Get me some more."

She's starting to sound like Trixie, she's getting so demanding.

But, then again, if you were beaten to within an inch of your life, you'd probably be demanding as hell, too.

You go back to get some more water, and, as you do, you hear the door open.

"Okay, okay, Marshal, I'm back," the doctor says, hauling her equipment through the door. "Several broken bones, a dislocated elbow, several broken ribs, likely internal bleeding... Going to need a lot of things. Please, give me some time."

"Celestia -damnit-, on the double, doc! I'm going to die soon, from either dehydration, blood loss, or the concentrated stupidity radiating from Cadance! Possibly all three, if you let me rot here long enough to turn into an orange raisin!"

"Okay, okay! I got it! Give me some time! I'll fix you up as qvick as I can!"

Spitfire grumbles, and you bring her some more water.

She quickly laps it up again, keeping an eye on the doctor.

Said doctor is currently in a panic, pulling our various things from her bag.

An IV, a bunch of sharp tools and objects, bandages, what looks like casting material, and a giant jug.

"Anonymous. Grab zat ironing board in ze back."

You look, and, sure enough, you see an old, rusty ironing board.

"Oh, great. A ghetto operating table."

"I've used vorse. Now hurry."

You oblige, and walk over to grab it.

In a moment, you have the thing set up in front of the box and behind the doctor.

As the doctor makes use of the various shelves to place her equipment, she turns to you.

"Get ze marshall on ze board. Put ze cloth beneath her so ve don't make as much of a mess."

"Oh, uh..."

You look down at the broken pegasus, and grimace at the thought of picking her up.

Aren't her legs shattered?

Spitfire can see this, and she glares up at you.

"Damnit, Anonymous, just do it. I've dealt with worse pain before, I can handle this."

Amen to that.

You reach down, sliding one hand under her shoulder and one hand under her flank.

As you lift her, two of her legs bend at unnatural angles, and you can't help but cringe.

Spitfire grits her teeth and clenches her eyes shut in pain, but she doesn't make a sound other than a grunt.

Through the pain, she manages to speak as you set her down.

"What's the skinny, doc?"

Immediately, she responds.

"Casting two limbs, and putting a brace on your neck. But, before zat, I need to handle ze internal bleeding."

Spitfire looks a tad worried.

"You gonna hav'ta cut me open?"

Cuore nods.

"Yes, yes I do. It hopefully von't take long."

Suddenly, panic hits you.

"...Doc?!"

"Vhat?"

"Did you restock on drugs?!"

She looks confused, and arches her eyebrows.

"Huh? Vhat? I'm never low on drugs."

You roll your eyes.

"Right. Except for that one time you didn't have any anesthetics to give me when you had to cut me open?!"

After you finish, there's nothing but silence.

And, soon, the panic sets in.

The doctor's eyes drift to the floor, thinking about it.

"...Dannazione..!"

"DAMN IT TO TARTARUS, DOC! Tell me, right fucking now, that you DIDN'T forget the shit that's supposed to knock me out before you cut me open like some sort of damn science experiment!"

The doctor freezes stiff, and looks at Spitfire, bug-eyed.

"...Uh, uh, I, uh-"

You're half expecting lazers to shoot out of Spitfire's eyes and vaporize the doctor.

"How bad is it?!" she hollers, looking at herself.

The doctor looks down, and mutters.

"...Spleen... Could be lethal-"

"Then don't waste any fuckin' time!"

The doctor's eyes grow twice their size yet again.

"Vhat?!"

"You heard me! I'm not going to die, not yet! Not like this!"

She looks at you with determination, and grits her teeth as she speaks.

"Anonymous, give me your belt to bite on, and hold my shoulders down!"