The Morning Star [Invite Only]

"Well... that should about do it?"

"Fortunately."

To the Mikemon's declaration, Stingmon gave a slight, relieved sigh. Honestly, Carlos did not look like he was in the best of shape as he returned from that job to the north - as evidenced by the sheer gash left across his back, left from an unfortunate accident from Dio and Carlos' fight with the Wisemon. Fortunately for the tamer, normal wounds were quite easily in the doctor's power to cure.

Thus, Carlos would find himself, resting on his stomach on a makeshift hospital bed, fresh bandages stretched over freshly mended wounds. The cloth itself smelled faintly of a foul medicine, slowly dripping down into the skin. If this was the worst of what happened up north, the cat would have been glad...

... But of course it wasn't. With a sharp flash of light, another group looked like they were returning. "Alright, whose turn is it this time-"

A pause. Out in the hall, Cassandra's crumpled form, distraught hair, ruined clothes, and streaks of red across her clothes immediately brought the cat's attention. His eyes narrowed to pinpricks at the horrific sight before him - and almost before Cloak could even say anything, Mikemon was already shouting orders:

"Stingmon, carry her. Thick towels, and... right, we haven't stocked the freezer her yet, right?" His thought was offhand, but sensible, and soon enough, that Stingmon stepped forward, carefully plucking Cassandra off the ground with the aid of what looked to be a bedroom towel. She was set right on a rolling bed, and was moved right down the hall, out of sight of the rest, to...

... Yes, a storage freezer, just a few doors down from the kitchen. Keeping the door propped open with a box, and with his tools available shortly after, Mikemon gave a nod to the bug: "Keep an eye out. Let me know if anyone else comes through here." He quickly adjusted the freezer's setting - up from -12F to somewhere around +15F - and set out to work, cutting away at that ruined clothing to try and get a better idea of the damage.

"God damn it, Cas... hang on for me..."

If Cloak following the patient wasn't fine, Mikemon wouldn't have noticed anyway. The moment he was able to get a good look at Cassandra, his focus was drawn forward, the feline gritting his fangs at what he saw. There was definitely a lot to parse - both as a whole and in parts - but the cat didn't have the luxury to simply wait for too long.

He paired his initial observation with a first-pass over the 'less damaged' parts of Cassandra's body with a damp towel... and even that cursory pass left the white towels stained a vivid red, the D-Reaper so present in Cassandra's body that she was releasing the mass through perspiration. That was the least of his concerns, unfortunately: between that 'robotic' arm that had spread halfway up her arm, to the rather beastly state of her nails, her worrying low heartrate, and an impressive amount of heat quickly overtaking her, the cat had to consider what to do.

Stingmon knew the doctor needed the 'best' he had on stock for this - as soon as that pass with the towel was done, the bug carted in Mikemon's tools, and two separate cases filled with differing medicines. Nodding, putting on a set of sterile gloves and a face-mask, Mikemon closed his eyes for brief focus.

Cloak would notice his data signal surge - from that of a mere 'Champion' to that of a 'Mega', despite his particularly diminutive stature not changing an inch. His eyes narrowed in focus, pressing a paw right under Cassandra's neck, pressing against the heart - a sharp, warm healing energy was imparted on the area. "You're not allowed to stop on me." That energy sat as a precaution - should the system be stressed by Mikemon's treatment, he couldn't be distracted later trying to get that heart beating again.

Next was Cassandra's blood - unfortunately, something that pervasive wasn't going to be easy to cure, much like a full cancer spreading throughout her body. But so long as that blood remained such a putrid color, the D-Reaper would further spread, turning her more and more - and, eventually, claim Cassandra's life.

It needed purified. Tapping briefly against his medical case, the cat considered his options. 'Heaven's Elixir' - created from the fruit on Ceresmon's back - would have been able to immediately cure, and continuously repair, Cassandra's body of poison and wounds throughout the treatment. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case - the D-Reaper was a 'parasite' at this rate, and anything that would 'heal' her would also 'heal' the D-Reaper. But in this state, could Cassandra even survive something meant to destroy data?

There wasn't a choice. Flinching, but without hesitation, the cat drew a syringe, a black liquid prepared inside. It was meant for use with humans infected with Digimon data - and he knew it would work here, but the side effects were... well. He didn't use this if he didn't need to. Settling that syringe against Cassandra's leg, he let that formula push itself in, giving it some time to start to circulate through her system. Pull through for me. You'll hate me in the morning, but...

Once those red veins turned a blackish blue, he'd be able to proceed with the arm. But if they stayed red, or went too dark, the cat was going to need to act very fast.

Yeah. You're gonna hate me in the morning.

Mikemon wished that this wasn't the expected result - he wished this wasn't in the 'top end' of results that he was hoping for, but it was. The injection of that formula had worked wonders, now helping to fight the D-Reaper that was coursing through her veins... while simultaneously kicking her weakened immune system into overdrive. He grit his teeth as Cassandra started to recoil in pain, instinctively reaching for a small towel nearby.

His first concern: he had to stop Cassandra from hurting herself. The moment those fangs parted for a scream, he took that rolled up hand-towel and stretched it right across her face, letting those teeth sink into the cloth rather than her lips (or worse, her tongue). In doing so, the cat winced, feeling an errant nail slip through his own side, as Cassandra tried to literally dig through her own skin.

Cloak's intervention, though sudden, was quite helpful: "K-keep her held down!" Rolling with it, the cat quickly moved: working against Cassandra's struggling body, he worked to force her wrists back against the table, working a secure strap to keep her body tied down - once across each wrist, then her upper arms, then her ankles. Cassandra would quickly find herself securely strapped to the table, the feline currently ignoring his own wounds and scratches received in the process.

"T... this is the best I can do." The cat shook his head: "This is a terrifying, black label medicine - but without it, there would have been nothing I could do for her at all. I'm sorry, but the formula needs to run its course." Apart from that, the feline once more pressed a healing palm, right over Cassandra's aching heart.

"But its not just that. The extended metal in her arm - its threatening her Brachial artery." He tapped a part of his upper arm, for reference: "I need to remove as much of that growth as possible - and then turn her forearm fully to metal, to prevent such an errant growth from happening again."

The Doctor's eyes settled on Cloak, a determined look in his eyes. "She'll be in pain. She might even beg you to have me stop. But I. Will. Not. Lose her." He gave a nod to the Knight.

"So please. Back up."

For now, Mikemon would allow Cloak his brief emotional moment - whatever it took to secure as much time as possible to work on his patient uninterrupted. Barely a moment after Cloak pulled back, Mikemon's hands already moved, a small amount of healing energy working its way through the worst of the self-inflicted wounds.

With Cassandra restrained, though still in severe pain, Mikemon swore under his breath. He would have very much liked to work on a sedated patient - but he knew that Cassandra's current system couldn't handle such chemicals properly. As he moved to work on that arm, all the cat could offer was two shots of a clear liquid - an anesthetic, one that would quickly numb her upper arm and her forearm. Giving it just a few seconds to spread, Mikemon summoned his sphere, hovering equidistant between his eyes and the restrained appendage.

"... Shadow Stitching."

Both of his arms were quickly enveloped in dark energy: pressing those paws forward, the 'tendrils' once more snaked their way out, grasping tight around Cassandra's upper arm. Slowly, the tip of a numerous amount of 'needles' and 'picks' started to poke through that metallic appendage, through the hideous growth that had managed to extend its way upward and outward. Unlike a prior patient, this 'growth' was random, disjointed, corrupted and infested - as far as the cat could manage, he would remove as much as possible. Quick cuts and careful slices took large pieces of metal away from the arm, clanging down into a bucket below to contain the mess.

It didn't take much to pare down the most hideous part - no, the difficulty came when Mikemon came close to where the arm should have been. And here, Mikemon spent his focus: carefully pulling out jagged pieces of metal, slipping in his own healing energy to carefully heal the distraught blood-work beneath. He absolutely could not leave it as far spread up as it was... but the process to 'heal' this infection was agonizingly slow. Two hours and another anesthetic shot later, Mikemon clearly looking worse for wear, he had finally made it towards the elbow.

"... This will do."

With that one comment, the 'tone' behind Mikemon's energy changed, the shadows no longer 'poking in', but rather entirely enveloping that metallic forearm. Closing his eyes in focus - no longer worrying about straining to salvage every piece he could - he let that 'magic' spread, the shadows cutting into and overtaking both flesh and metal, a light cloud of data pouring underneath. This process took about ten minutes - but during it, the cat remained so still, it didn't even seem like he was breathing.

But as the shadows would finally fade, Cassandra's arm would look much better for the effort... though not in the form she may had preferred. A tight metal circle, just above the elbow on the upper arm, sat as a 'cuff' - everything below? Well, Cassandra's arm had turned to that same bio-metal as before, lacking any bit of normal flesh. Her arm, at the very least, now looked clean, metallic, and pristine.

Slowly stepping back, pushing one more burst of healing energy into Cassandra's chest, Mikemon gave a nod...

... Before aptly collapsing, landing right on his rear end as his crystal ball fell, rolling idly down the floor of the freezer.

"... God... f---ing... dammit..."

Once more, the cat wasn't alone, Cloak's shadow cast over Mikemon's form. From his position on the ground, the doctor looked up, meeting eye-to-eye with the Knight - and thankfully, the look in Mikemon's eyes wasn't completely devoid of hope, even as his patient continued to writhe in pain less than a yard away.

Reaching up, he took the Knightmon's hand, slowly and carefully dragging himself back up onto his feet. "The way its going, another hour... though, at least she's turned the bend." He had been keeping an eye on Cassandra's data throughout, and at least compared to the start of the treatment, she seemed a lot more stable.

"To be honest, my tank is running on empty. Can't maintain 'mega' any longer, but..." The cat stood, pulling himself up on a chair next to the table. "I'll keep a low level of healing aura around her, until the hour is up. Once she's stable, I'll have to leave it to Stingmon." At that, he grit his teeth: All this power and its burnt out after one patient... what am I going to do with the rest of the club?

One more hour - and unfortunately, Mikemon had to keep his focus constantly on Cassandra for the entire duration. By this point, Dagger and the rest would have already made their way to the Library, only to have Stingmon, Dio, and the wounded Carlos to greet them. Dr. Cross' wounded appearance still didn't fit well with the cat.

Hearing Cloak's response, Dr. Mikemon gave a nod. Once more, he pulled himself up, placing his paws about four inches away from her wounded frame. "Yes, keep an eye on her." Leaving it at that, over the next hour, the cat gave that same level of focus. Slowly, Cassandra's darkened veins would turn a more natural red - less pronounced than when she came in - and the severe pain would slowly subside.

As promised, the feline remained in that state the full time. As the healing energy ebbed at the end, the cat took a slow breath, pulling himself carefully away from the table, and gave a brief nod to Cloak.

"She'll be f... fine..." No good - right at that note, his own energy gave out, collapsing and supporting himself against Cloak's leg.

"Damn it..."

It wasn't just Cassandra's infection that the doctor was trying to fight, but also the severe cold of the freezer: though Cassandra herself radiated a fair bit of heat, everyone else in the room risked exposure over such a long stretch of cold.

Plucked up, and set down on that chair, Mikemon took a moment to stretch back. His fur felt prickly, the edges frozen, as the cat wrapped his arms around his chest. However, he couldn't have been further from Cloak's mind, the Knight already moving to find the Stingmon. At the desk, the assistant gave a single blink and a nod, folding that newspaper in half as he moved into the back room.

He offered the Knight a single folding chair, a thick blanket, and some advice:

"Every two hours, take a break for ten minutes and get some warmth." The insect knew better than to stop him.

All the bug could do was suggest a way to mitigate the damage.