Taco threw the doors open. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and her chest rose and fell from the frantic sprint across the field to the small building Golf Ball has set up next to her lab. Golf Ball yelped, nearly dropping the stack of papers she held atop her head. Golf Ball glared at Taco, adjusting her glasses with a scrunch of her nose.
"Could you not slam the door, please? I have enough noise to deal with right now," Golf Ball muttered. Taco didn't seem to care as she walked in, letting the door close on its own.
"How is she?" Taco asked.
"Hm?"
"Book, Gaty told me what happened last night. Is Book okay?" Taco breathed, her voice airy from her run. Golf Ball slid the stack of papers from her head and onto a nearby desk. Taco noticed that they were all newspapers, and the desk was covered in a strange, sticky substance. A bowl filled with the liquid sat next to the papers.
"Book is...alive," Golf Ball said, chewing on her lip. "Saw came to get me in the middle of the night, they had to corral her in order to help her hobble over here," She grabbed a newspaper and began shredding it by holding the paper down and tearing it with her teeth. "It took us approximately an hour and a half to get all the glass out of her, not including how long it took to restrain her,"
"Restrain?" Taco asked. "What do you mean? She came here on her own will, right?"
"Right, but to make sure her leg's connected properly, we have to restrain her," Golf Ball finished tearing up the paper and dunked the strips into the bowl, letting them soak as she moved to the next paper. "She began thrashing, I think she thought we were going to hurt her," At this, Taco blinked.
"...If I can ask, do you know what happened?" Taco rubbed her hands together. She recalled how sickly Book looked just a day ago. How'd she get so bad so fast?
"Sleep deprivation from the looks of it," Golf Ball's voice was monotone and plain as if she were describing a chore. "We had to watch her overnight to make sure she didn't escape, and she didn't sleep a wink," Another cluster of paper was dunked into the bowl. "That, and we've been told she ingested some form of hyper-potent caffeine," At this, Taco grit her teeth.
"Pencil," She muttered. Golf Ball nodded.
"She told you too?" Golf Ball asked. Taco nodded, her face screwed in an expression of irritation.
"She's lucky I don't knock her nose clean off again," Taco grumbled.
"Please don't, I'm wasting enough glue as is here. I don't want to have to waste more on Pencil," Golf Ball said. Just then, the door opened, and Tennis Ball stepped out, his glasses crooked and his face worried. "TB, is everything alright in there?" She asked. "I have the reattachment fluids ready,"
"You can call it paper-mache, you know," Tennis Ball smiled and rolled his eyes, but his expression still betrayed worry. "As for the patient, she's settled down, but won't stop staring at the ceiling," He rubbed the back of his leg. "I'm a little worried she's gonna try and blind herself, heh," With a sigh, Tennis Ball came over and took the bowl, carefully balancing it on his head.
"I-Is she taking visitors?" Taco finally spoke up again. Tennis Ball looked back with pursed lips.
"I'm...afraid not," His gaze was shifty. He was hiding something. "She's in some sort of daze, I don't wanna risk you getting hurt, especially with your past with her," He winced. Taco glanced at the ground. Even though the two made up, she had to admit there was still some tension in the air. With that, Tennis Ball disappeared through the door again. Golf Ball looked to Taco and shrugged.
"Anything else you'd like to inquire?" She asked. Taco felt her fists ball again.
"You saw Pencil today to remove her bandages, right?"
"Yes...?"
"Did she tell you where she was going?
——
A bright light shone straight into Book's eyes. She winced as an all too familiar buzzing burrowed into her head. Wasn't it dark just a moment ago? She asked herself. She tried to recall what had happened seemingly moments ago. Book moved to shield her eyes from the light but was met with something holding her down. She turned her head.
She was restrained to a cold, hard bed. She blinked. Where was she? She tugged at the restraint again, trying to move her other limbs. She couldn't move at all. The most she could do was move her head and...
Wait, my leg. Where's my leg? Book felt her left leg move, but there was no weight to it. No foot, no calf, nothing but her thigh. She tried to look at it but wasn't able to sit up enough to see. She flopped back down on the table, her heart threatening to crash through her ribcage.
My apartment, she thought. My apartment, someone was in my apartment. I screamed, it was dark, and then I hit something. But...who was it? Who was it? Book wanted to slam her fist against her head. If only the light was off, then I could think! Who was in there!?
Her mind flickered.
No, no, no one was in there. At least, I don't think so. She looked at her arms again and noticed one of her sleeves was gone. Small, deep cuts riddled her arms. I...was hurt. Was I attacked last night? Surely, I must have been. Someone was in my apartment. I screamed. They turned off the lights, attacked me, and took my leg.
But...who?
At that moment, the light was pushed away from above Book's face. The sudden movement made her jolt. Staring up, she froze.
A stranger stood above her, their face a jumble of different features. She tried to focus, but her eyes refused, unable to determine who was standing above her. A formless mouth opened and spoke.
"Are...Are you okay?" The voice was familiar, but she couldn't name it. Book squinted.
"Who are you? What am I doing here?" Book asked. She tugged at her wrists. "Why can't I move?" The figure seemed to bite their lip.
"Calm down, please, last night was a struggle enough," The figure moaned. Last night? How long have I been here? Book's mind raced. "I'm just here to fix your leg. You broke it in a fall, remember?" Book shook her head.
"I...I don't remember anything," She was starting to grow annoyed. "What happened to me? Why am I strapped down? I want out!" The figure stepped back.
"Now, now, take it eas—" Book growled. She moved to bite at her restraints, but they were out of reach.
"Let me go! I want to go home!" Book yelled and tried to kick, but still was held down. Her wrists and ankle burned against the leather. The figure ran out of sight, not that she cared.
There was a face! They were staring at me! They attacked me! I've been abducted! Book's mind rationalized in her haze of confusion. A sharp jab stabbed into her arm. She yelled.
"Augh! What are you doing?" Panic was taking over, the world spinning once more into a haze. Her head pounded, and that damn light...would someone just shut off that damn light!?
"Oh jeez, oh jeez," The figure's voice was muffled and distant. Another stab, this time harder and with something...bigger. Book screamed, her back arching.
"Stop it! Stop it!" She wailed. "I want out! Let me out!" She slipped deeper and deeper into hysteria. Her wrists burned like hell itself, and she was convinced she was going to die.
——
Tennis Ball backed away from the table, sweat beading on the back of his neck. Book was thrashing and panicking again, but now she was actively destroying herself. The skin around her wrists was beginning to tear, exposing torn shreds of paper. He glanced down at the needles that had clattered to the floor.
The sedatives weren't working.
What he first thought was just a symptom of shock was starting to scare him. Thinking fast, he turned to the door and pushed it open.
"Golf Ball!" He called. "We have a problem!" Golf Ball looked up from her desk. The tremor in Tennis Ball's voice was enough to have her standing, despite not knowing what was going on. She hurried towards him.
"What's the issue?" Golf Ball asked, her tone still cold, but hurried and urgent. She pushed past him and through the door.
"She's freaking out again! I-I tried to sedate her, but it's not k-kicking in," Tennis Ball was starting to lose his composure. He took in a breath, trying to calm himself. "I-I don't know what was in that stuff Pencil gave her, but there's no way it was just coffee. Golf Ball was already by Book's side. She rummaged through a drawer, pulled out another needle, and jabbed it into Book's neck. A piercing screech filled the air, and Golf Ball drew back, wincing as she pulled the needle out. She waited, but Book only continued to thrash and writhe.
"Gh, dang it," She growled, scrunching her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. "That was the strongest stuff I could get..." Golf Ball looked up at her friend, who was trying to hold down Book's chest. Sweat was collecting on his brow, his glasses blanched on the edge of his nose.
A sudden tear filled the room, and with a scream, Tennis Ball felt something smack against his nose. A crack followed soon after, and the vision in one of his lenses grew distorted. Under him, Book glared, eyes wide, teeth grit, and hand completely amputated. Her right hand had weakened from the thrashing to the point where it had fallen clean off, leaving a paper stub. Tennis Ball flinched and stumbled back.
"TB!" Golf Ball called. "Are you okay?"
'I'm fi—" A realization struck him as he stared at the cracks in his lens. It reminded him of how frost formed and cracked. "Golf Ball! The freeze juice!" He yelled. Golf Ball nodded in silent understanding. She rummaged through the drawer, and holding up a small, blue syringe, she stabbed Book. A final shriek, then silence. Golf Ball has squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating getting smacked as well, but opened her eyes to stare back at her own faint reflection.
Book was frozen but alive. Her right arm, now missing a hand, was held back over her head, the rest of her limbs being restrained. Her face was contorted in a furious rage, mouth agape in a silent scream. However, she was still far from rest, as even under the ice, her eyes darted around.
She was still conscious.
Tennis Ball gave out a hoarse laugh as he adjusted his glasses. His chest rose and fell from panic, and his typically neat hair was now a mess.
"I-I've been meaning to get a new prescription anyway," Tennis Ball shook his head and picked up the discarded needles, still trying to calm himself. Golf ball simply grunted.
"...I'll take it from here, you should go get some rest," She said. Tennis Ball looked back at her with concern as he discarded the needles in a biohazard box.
"A-Are you sure? What if she wakes up again?" He asked. Golf ball smiled reassuringly.
"As bad as she can get, she can't nearly be as bad as having Snowball for a patient," She said. "I'll be fine. You look like a wreck, though," Tennis Ball looked into a nearby mirror.
"I guess I do, heh," He grinned, but it was shaky and unsure. "I-If you insist, but if she wakes up, I-I wanna try and help,"
"Understood," Golf Ball said. Without another word, Tennis Ball left, and Golf Ball turned back to the frozen Book. She sighed. "Maybe freezing you will help, though from the looks of it..." She stared at Book, who stared back, her eyes burning with rage. "...freeze juice won't be much help at all..."
Gold Ball got to work on repairing Book's leg, twisting the wire bones back together and plastering it with the paper-mache she had, which was at more risk of drying now. Even as she worked, she felt Book's stare drill into her, even when she knew Book couldn't see her.