put your guns up, c

His ass had been dragged from the warehouse, a warning for all humans who dared attempt to fight the asshole that was the God of Light. Not even the shot of vodka he’d managed to swallow was helping take his mind off the pain. He’d been laid down on the ground on top of an inflatable mattress and old blankets. While soft, every miniscule movement brought up aches and pains for the blonde. He was a mess really. The worst he had ever been. Had he gotten rusty? No, he had just had the balls to fight a divine being and had rightly lost. He liked to think he’d gotten in a good hit but it was doubtful. Gods could teleport and there was only so many way to catch one off guard. He heard the familiar screaming and was glad medical help was here at last. The sexy nurse of the squad had arrived. Well, less sexy and more so a nurse. “I assure you…I look like shit.” He wheezed. His blonde hair was matter with sweat, dirt, and his own blood. He was dirty of course.

He shivered with a cold sweat weakly lifting the hem of his shirt and beginning to slide it up. “Ya got a baby wipe…? And more booze?” he managed to ask, his voice muffled as he removed the shirt from his face. He wiped what little he felt was sticky before dropping the rag to the side. “I’m like, dying here. You think you could strip me yourself.” He continued, managing a weak laugh in the process before shutting up as he cough a couple of time. That’s what he got for being such a smart ass. Heath took a few breaths before speaking once more. “Picked a god with the head of our local religious cult.” The male explained casually still bitter at the loss. “I don’t think anything is broken? But that’s your job anyway…” he continued. His face was swelling up and he knew he probably looked terrible. He was pale after all. Any bruising was bound to look monstrous on his skin. Honestly he was more worried about his ribcage and puncturing a lung. “Please don’t prick me…” he whined.