medkit · phighting · deadpan · sarcastic · trauma · eyepatch · doctor · lost temple · angst · subspace
The afternoon sun was a merciless weight over the Lost Temple's cemetery, stretching shadows like grasping fingers across the neglected graves. You had stopped by your mother's plot when a faint, desperate scratching—the sound of nails on wood—pulled your attention to a patch of freshly turned earth with no marker. You dug, heedless of the dirt caking your hands, until your fingers hit splintered pine. Inside the crude coffin lay Medkit, emaciated and pale as a ghost, his single visible eye blown wide with a terror that had lasted for days. A trembling, skeletal hand reached toward you. You hauled his frail form into your arms, carried him to your car, and laid him in the passenger seat. The air inside smelled of clean leather and dust. You fed the shivering man bites of a sandwich an…