Lending a Hand (Jax!)

[echidna]

How strange it might seem on the outside how a young woman not much older than eighteen could walk the streets of New York's slums without a care - but the outsider wasn't privy to the word on the street. He probably couldn't see into the darkness above the streetlights. He couldn't feel the dread that followed the girl's steps, or perceive the hundreds of eyes that moved in the dark on the edges of perception. Or, maybe he could? Who knows.

Regardless, in light of recent events, the Brood was not happy, and Eliza never left their sight. Their displeasure and ill ease didn't even need to come to a sharp point - normal people, even the thuggery and drug-addled stupidity the streets could produce knew trouble when they heard it moving in the darkness - and so the young white-haired woman with a messenger bag and a purposeful stride was avoided as she moved from pool of light to pool of light.

And then, she'd arrived. Still slightly muzzy, the young mother looked from the bit of scrap paper she'd jotted the addy upon to the... Dilapidated shell of a building she'd been seeking for the better part of four hours. She looked down at the sheet again... Then once more raised her gaze to the faded address, and listened to the not-so-gentle thumping of music within.

Well then.

Reaching out, she steeled herself, hesitating before knocking. But, she had to do something, didn't she...? And she did not... fully trust her powers - not enough... Not yet. What was more, she could not do some of the things she required now, that her Sons required. And... This man was legendary, in his way. He wasn't some madman living out in the middle of nowhere - he was The Smith. He was as a god of metal and a master of everything the substance was and could be. Eliza didn't just want his help, she needed his help.

So, she knocked, thinking herself ready for everything this action would bring.

[Jax]

Territory... seemed like just a word to some but to others it is more. So much more. If the woman had paid more attention she would have noticed the eyes in the dark. The eyes of gang members who smiled at the passing woman who practically had 'victim' on her forehead... only to advert their eyes and slip farther down the alley as they realized where she was heading. She would have noticed the eyes within windows peering out as she approached the garage to see the carnage that might result... and the glowing purple eyes watching from the rooftops. A legion of scrap parts and chaotic assembly. They waved to one another from root tops sending out semaphore messages in their very own code. This message leapt from rooftop to rooftop only to arrive at her destination and by the time she arrived the figure she had been hoping to reach was roused and armed and when she knocked the door exploded open and the man known as Jax burst into action.

An machete with a blade of screaming black metal swung out and embedded itself in the brick just outside the doorframe, a upper body thrust forward from the doorframe and a three barrel shot gun thrust out to point itself directly at the face of the intruder. The machete glowed from green runes coating it and down the three tunnels on the shotgun their was no light... unless he pulled the trigger. This all happened in one swift motion and then a growling voice screamed.

"AH TOLD YA GOD #$&@ers DAT AH DA NA WANNA BE #$@%ING SAV....."

The voice behind the gunbarrels obstructing the girl's voice paused examining the woman.

"Ya aren't a missionary at all are ya?"

The barrels receded and pulled back to be placed on the shoulder of the man in the door way. He was definitely a man. There was no doubt because of his utter and complete state of undress. There was no way in any language could his gender but put in doubt... especially braille. He stood in utter confidence despite the fact he was butt-naked in the most dangerous and degenerate part of the city that never sleeps. He was shorter then average but a green mohawk amped his height considerably as it sat on his otherwise black and buzzed short hair. His goatee was punctured by a bent down metal spike piercing his flesh just below his lower lip, a couple of studs were in the lip itself and his ears bristled with rings. His neck from the front edges of flame tattoos could be seen and his chest was a seen to behold. Over his heart his skin had been tattooed in such a way that it appeared the skin had been peeled back and stapled to reveal a clockwork heart with lines and cables emerging to crisscross in a runic celtic knot upon his chest and torso only to go back into his flesh. His arms were a combination of metal dragons and quotes of freedom and rage. He... possessed eight highly unexpected piercing that will be left to your imagination... and his legs were unfinished tattoos, lines and blueprints for what was to come. His lips were wrapped around a cigarette whose head oddly glowed green instead of red and drifting upwards dragons made of smoke swirled gently from it's tip.

He in his nakedness glared at the woman before him.

"Are ya going ta take a $&@*ing picture, take off ya own clothes, or are ya going ta tell me what da #&$* ya are doing at ma #$&*ing home in da middle of da night?"

He still had the shotgun shouldered but he effortlessly pulled the machete from the wall leaving a three inch deep cut in the soild brick and held it ready. This was a pop quiz and there were wrong answers.

[echidna]

Eliza hadn't been sure at all what to expect of the Smith, someone she only got to hear about because she was frankly an almost ubiquitous presence in her city - if not directly, then by proxy via her children. Opal beetles were a common sight in the city these days, and it was through her own apparent inactivity as the Broodmother that the forces that be failed to notice her, and that this was allowed to be so.

Even with all that, she hadn't known what to expect. Certainly not a machete at head height wizzing by her face with a disconcerting WHEEEE noise as it sliced air and then, in turn, some perfectly ordinary and blameless masonry.

When the Shotgun came out, she simply shut down. What could she have done? She simply went wide-eyed and wondered if she could see the back of the weapon where the slugs were ready to make her grey matter at one with the scenery.

Her sons almost jumped him right there, and the encounter might have been brief and really, really messy if she had not got control of herself at the last moment and relaxed, waving them off with a soothing thought.

Was she a Witness? She shook her head no, still staring at him owlishly. He lowered the gun, and she couldn't repeatably explain to somebody else how happy that made her feel, at least not without making use of seriously imaginative euphemisms.

Eliza stared. His face was the first thig to draw her eye, from the apple green hair to the tip of the glowing cigarette to his rough and ready features bedecked with so much metal work that he was surely considered a lover to many a fine magnet... But her eyes, as if by a winch... Were drawn inexorably...

Downwards.

She shut down. The Brood shut down. Her expression became a bit... Concussed and glassy. The creature spoke to her again, and that drew her face up to look at his again... But like it was on a bungee cord, she looked... Doooooown again.

Eliza shook herself and tore her eyes away. Well that WAS a thing and no mistake.

"... Business?" She suggested? "Business... With trousers? Yes..." She swallowed and smiled at him dazedly "... Can't... Business... Need... You need... Ahem." She trailed off, aware of his expression.

"... Trouserbusiness."

[Jax]

Jax's angry scowl faded in confusion as he beheld the empty gaze of the woman. She seemed to have shut down all high brain function not labeled 'babble'. He listened for a while as one of his metal decked eyebrows raised farther and farther along his forehead before coming to a halt. He just stood there listening till she finished and tried to decode what she had just said. It was times like this having fairly functional minions was worth their weight in gold as one of the refugees from a scrap hip walked up beside their creator and tapped on his bare leg. He tore his eyes away from the obvious crazy woman before looking down at the one tapping on him. It possess a laptop screen for a face and large glowing purple pixels crackled as they formed an embarrassed grin as it held up a pair of blue jeans. Behind it another one with a face made of purple sparking plug outlets and a mouth made of a tiny speaker spewed ones and zeros out loud to Jax who listened scowling more and more.

"First of all ah told ya ta NA CALL MA MASTER!!"

The last few words were screamed in defiance at the little one below him who accepted it without a flinch and pointed at the jeans.

"Secondly... it's na like she never probably saw anyding like dis before late at night on her laptop or something so dere is nothing shameful about dis."

The ones and zeroes came faster now and Jax's scowl went away as he listened before holding up a machete holding hand at the woman but snapped aside and reembedded itself in the brick wall in a slightly higher location. He held the shotgun above his head above the doorway and two pairs of small metal hands reached down to hold it slightly trembling from it's wait as the humonculi holding it strained as they hung upside down from the doorway as Jax stepped into the pants and pulled them up to the waist and zipped them shut with a vengeance. He reached up, grabbed the shotgun and then frowning at her grabbed the machete again and hung it up on the wall nearby and then looking at her shrugged and held up the shotgun again as once again the arms came into view and pulled the shotgun out of sight as he leaned against the solid metal door wearing only a pair of blue jeans with their top button undone.

"Alright. Got pants. Now give ma five reasons ah shouldn't slam dis door shut and ga back ta sleep. Ya have thirty seconds."

The laptop screen turned to her displaying a countdown.
30.
29.
28.
27.

[echidna]

Eliza watched the little show with the concussed good humor of somebody who just saw the Elephants, and smiled as the little minions spoke with... Their master? She wanted to giggle at this point but she couldn't get her breath to obey her in the least, and ended up simply keeping up her idiotic smile.

At least, until a collective thought kicked the trashcans over. Pretty soon, the man would ask what she wanted, wouldn't he?

She hurriedly chased after the runaway train of her thoughts and gave it a good kicking and a cussing until it found the tracks again. The girl shook her head vigorously as Jax put on the minion-proffered pair of trousers, and spake.

She smiled at the man, and shook her head.

"No, Mr. Gardener." She said, in sharp tones. "I won't require five reasons, or thirty seconds. Just twenty seconds and three reasons, see?" She said, and swung her bag forward.

"Reason one..." She said, as she unzipped it and reached in. She produced a cybernetic arm that probably weighed forty pounds by size alone. This was to modern prosthetics what a jetpack was to a bigwheel in terms of awesome. "Is because I have a lot of this level of stuff, but I have no use for it as it is - you do, I can see" she said, noting his expression.

She looked him in the eye then. "Reason two, I need your help. You're the best at what you do, and there is no other man on the face of this earth I would trust to help my son" she said, and smiled.

"And the third reason is because I'll have other work for you if you can do what I ask, and I believe in the barter system - this arm is the least of what I can give you." She said, her voice low. This was a girl who had a lot to worry about and didn't get a whole lot of sleep. There was no deception in her eyes, just a lot of long days and uncried tears.

"So. Please?" Twenty seconds, exactly.

[Jax]

The arm she produced was.. beautiful. A work of art. He could almost hear the hum of alloys, feel the touch of it's systems on the back of his brain. He tried to keep his face uninterested but he wagered he failed miserable at this as he reflexively took a deep breath filling his lungs with smoke and chemicals from his cig. He held it as she spoke and as she finished he slowly let the smoke flow out his nostrils, the smoke dragons drifting outwards almost roaring as they escaped his body. Jax stuck his hands into the pockets in the pants that were slowly sliding back down his waist and looked at the woman, looked into himself and then turned around with out a ward and started into the garage revealing more tattoos including that the flames on the back of his neck had the word 'Defiance' printed on them in large gothic letters. Looking back over his shoulder he asked.

"Are ya going ta stand out dere and look at ma my @$$ are ya going ta get inside. Ah don't discuss business out in da open."

Not looking back he called back to her.

"Oh and shut da door will ya?"

As he walked he started reaching for objects off wooden cable spools he used as tables, grabbing a studded belt and threading it through his pant loops, grabbing a green shirt that proclaimed he "The last thing I want to do is hurt you but it is still on the list." He didn't even look up at the walls covered in tools, the forge and accessories dominating a far wall as it billowed smoke into the vents. Blades and weapons of every description imaginable were scattered around the forge and near gunsmithing tools and truck cut exactly in half say parked in the middle. The closest thing to an area of rest was the kitchen which was blood and food stained and in the corner of the room was a pile of pillows and blankets that looked like it had more oil, blood, and grease then fabric. As for the walls posters, blueprints, and stickers coated them. There was barely an inch uncovered by that or tools, even the ceiling was decorated with ripped out pages of magazines and posters of motorcycles taped to the ceiling. There were a few with woman in various state of dress straddling them but they were the minority. There were also a few blank spots among the collection but they seemed more like something was once there before it was removed... this was all over his 'bed' so he could fall asleep looking at them when he could avoid it no more.

Jax walked over to the truck and leaped up into the expose chair and resting his chin on his hands he looked at the woman with an impressive attitude as her minions wheeled her over a wheelchair with flames painted on it.

"So tell ma... what da ya want built or killed? Keep in mind ah reserve the right ta either tell ya ta #&*$ off."

[echidna]

Gotcha.

Eliza knew she had the Smith from the moment his eyes alighted upon the mechanical masterpiece Charlie, once upon a time, had made for Jericho. Once, she'd helped Charlie out - it had been a trade... she'd taught some things to her children - namely, the unofficial gunsmith and tinkerer Naucilles, in exchange for helping Jericho recover from... whatever made him into a cyborg werewolf monster by replacing his body parts.

So why couldn't she do that for her sons? The ones who had been injured? Why couldn't she save Argus's life? The pain he was in was dampened by the sheer toughness, the bitter mustard and bile in his belly - he was too tough to die outright from an injury that would have seen almost any of her other warden sons long ago passed into the dark... but he wouldn't last much longer. She'd done what she could, and the Sympatons were even now keeping their brother alive... but for how long?

Hours.

And she didn't have the strength to save him. Not yet. He wouldn't last until she could... and there was nothing she could do.

Except, that is, what she was doing. Pride was all very well, but there was a kind of hungry look in Eliza's face as she followed Jax. A kind of... unexpressed desperation that his nonchalance and attitude was doing nothing to assuage. But adamantium, said to be the strongest of all mortal metals, would have bent around her patience as she followed the legendary mage-smith into his abode - his sanctuary, rather.

Her entire contingent almost followed her in right there. She froze solid in the doorway, and snapped back at them to hold their position. That would not look good and the Smith might well decide that she meant him harm - and failure was not an option! To protect their brother, they had to trust their mother.

Mr. Bitey, of course, came anyhow. But that was in his character. This... Jax Gardener character offended him to the seat of his rather fetching khaki trousers (he'd recently looted a men's big and tall store - don't ask). Eliza almost wound up to put him on a fizzer... but kept walking. She was on edge - understandably so.

Eliza followed closely. Never knowing what was in a mage's sanctuary, she'd once read - it was like a window into his mind.. and in this place she saw little softness. Despite her jaw-knotting anxiety and worry, she looked around - and Bitey did too, invisible in the shadows as was his custom. He was part of his own mother's shadow at this point - he could hide in the shadow under a chair. or behind a door, her eldest Warden.

She could feel his disdain - and in a way that only came because of her fascination in him, his growing fascinated horror. She smiled despite herself - it was that kind of abode. This was a lad who kept his mind on business, who had little use for things that were beautiful but completely useless. The posters opposite his... "BED" did not, she suspected, half-judging by what... she'd seen earlier... fall into this 'useless' category either. A casual sniff applied at liberal distance - like from merely being in the room - from the pile confirmed it. No, they definitely saw use. A mother learns to... know these things. To... recognize things.

The Broodmother could almost *see* Bitingston turn red under his fur and through several layers of fur. She smiled more akwardly, and had the decency not to comment on the thought further - for which she knew he was grateful.

She knew her boys, yes she certainly did.

Jax's frankly rude question snapped her back to business, and she looked to him, her gaze sharp and more than a little icy. But it was fleeting. She sighed, shutting her eyes a moment before opening them again.

"I need you to make an arm... a lung... and a few other implants for one of my sons. Time... is a major factor in this, it really is." she said, hoarsely.

"I will pay handsomely, you bet on that - I already know your rules. Your reputation precedes you, and that's why I've come here!" she said, considerably less calm, a bit of serious fire flaring up.

"Because you're probably the only person on the face of this gods damn earth I'd trust!!" This woman was on cracking point. There was... pain behind these words, anger. A lot of anger.

"So will you do it... or won't you?!" she said, patience cracking too. If he could see her face in the dark... there were tears streaming down her cheeks. The iron mast was down now - it had burned to slag in her heart.

This was a mother's love, raw, and borne on wings of terror and despair.

"Please! Jax Gardener!"

[Jax]

Jax had had a thousand notions for what she wanted. Weapons, advice, booty calls, notions had popped up and discarded and the arm thing hadn't been a surprise but... a lung. A lung... he had never even considered making it and his mouth opened a bit in surprise. Even more surprising was her tone. Once he had put pants on she had been calm, in control, even snapping at him. He had been impressed and now... he narrowed his eyes in silence as he looked at her and thought. He tone... her words... she was scared... angry yes. But the anger came more from fear then anything. He was more then familiar with that type of rage. The motion of his minions around him stopped. Every last one of them regarded him as he went inside himself and slowly closed his eyes before opening them and hoping down looking less... confident. His bare feet crossed the concrete as he held out a hand.

"... Ah... ah don't know... a lung? Ah mean. An arm.. ah could do dat. Ah suppose but..."

He laughed a bit.. more of a desperate chuckle of a man hang gliding over head but it faded as he looked at her. She was here. In his place... in this territory just to see him. Knowing who he was, knowing his rep it seemed. She was desperate. More then that... frantic. He saw her eyes. She was at the point where someone is right before they will either break down crying or bash someone's head in with a pipe... or both at the same time. No one... no one had looked at him like that before... with him as a possible solution. He was stunned. He took a step back and looked away from the intensity. He looked away and his eye was caught by a blank patch above his bed. A patch of concrete once covered by a picture of a girl... He looked at that and the doubt... the uncertainty was shoved down into the depths of the planet itself or the equivilent there of within himself. He tore his gaze away, looked down at the ground... at his mother's flesh... his true mother... and then looked up. His gaze focused as he spat out the cigarette without slowing, as his jaw jutted forward and his fists clenched in sheer determination. Somewhere within a knight in rusty armor had opened a door and it pour through him.

He advanced on her pointing.

"If ya are here and could not wait dat means dis can not wait, ah need da patient brought here if possible, nearby if not cause all ma tools are here and shuttling back and forth will take MUCH too long, Ah need a doctor or surgeon which ah am sure ya thought of cause ya HAVE ta know ah am na doc. And ah need dis all five minutes ago."

As he began to walk to a cabinet and pull out blueprints and sketches as well as paper and pencils he called out to her.

"We will talk payment later... if ah succeed."

[echidna]

So there it was - her heart borne out to a complete stranger. She'd let the mast down and only Bitingston had seen his mother like this among her wardens. She hadn't cried like this... for years. Her sons were bewildered - no son likes seeing their mother cry, but they never knew she... hurt this much. She was dimly aware of their sense of wonder and awkward discomfort - they wanted to help her, and there was nothing at all, not a thing she could do.

In Amity park... she'd lost a fifth of her sons. Thirty wardens died that gods forsaken day. Her pain came out in a rush, and she tried to stifle her tears lest the agony of the overwhelming loss consume her whole, palming her tears as she sobbed wretchedly. Jax hopped down and spoke to her, and it cut through the snakes somewhat, brought her back to reality and what was in front of her - the life she had the power to help save now.

Bitingston surfaced from her shadow, and wrapped his mother in his gentle arms as her mind spun on all cylenders and she thought fast. A lung... he needed a lung, he really did, and Jax... was unsure he could do it. She knew in her bones she would die for her children if she thought it would make things better for them. So... Her own choice was not complicated. She clenched her fists as she shook, meeting Jax gaze for Gaze, as the massive warden held her against him. Even if he was decidedly inhuman, something about his manner, something about his behavior screamed son.

Jax's words were taken in, and Eliza nodded to the derby-wearing king of wardens. He met her eyes a moment... then melted into the shadows of Jax's forge. There was a sense of sliced time... and in about four seconds, there was a rattle as a table was brushed clean in the kitchen, and a grunt of true pain as someone was placed on the table. Voices muttered and a bluish glow pulsated. If Jax looked, Two more such creatures, a lot alike the one that had only until a moment ago embraced Eliza, stood with a third on the table between them, and it was easy to see who needed the work.

His chest cavity was actually... open, and two others - Ratatat and Haimish, sympatons - both with wrapped tails and forearms, seemed to be... using some kind of magic on him, moving a kind of bluish glow from mason jars into his body in a steady, regulated trickle, their concentration devoted to their task utterly, but they were not the only ones in the room.

Apart from Bitingston, who was again at his mother's side. there was a somewhat smaller warden in the kitchen with the one on the table, grasping the wounded warden's remaining hand - a brother, something about his manner said, their colorations were nearly identical - brownish with black splotches.

Lohir muttered to Argus, his brother, as the large male squirmed on the table, his jaw set in a richtus of ultimate suffering, the smaller of the twins grasping his big brother's hand like he would die if he let go of him.

"It will be alright, brother... Mother will fix you up..." Lohir muttered. He was beyond tears - he was in the calm valley of certainty beyond the pain. Argus, on the table, could do no more than groan and keep his jaw set tight. Even now, Eliza was so proud of her mighty son... how hard he fought. How much he suffered... yet he never begged for death. Not once. She'd offered it to him... but he had gripped her hand and pleaded not to die, pleaded for the chance. She had to give it to him.

Samhain stood beside the table, leaning against the wall. He watched the proceedings dully, and met Eliza gaze for gaze. She trusted him highly, her Tactician son... and his judgement came across to her. It was his task to put it all together - to put sense into perspective, and what he said through their bond gave Eliza a flash of hope.

Argus was stable. At least for now. Things could proceed. But she had to hurry.

Eliza shared a nod with Samhain and broke his gaze, pulling out her own sketchbook, rushing to Jax's side. She flipped open to the page she'd prepared for this, and offered it to Jax, pointing out the lung and the chest cavity first. This was the true quill - it was like she'd tried to show the damage on a piece of paper in four dimensions - perhaps only a mage could have made heads or tails of it... but Jax was a Mage, wasn't he?

"I can probably handle the lung if you can attach the replacement symbiote to the bronchial tubes." she said, pointing to the sketch - it seemed to exist in three dimensions, to pop up like a hologram to a mage's eye, like she'd achieved with pencil work what modern science had trouble achieving. "The chest and arm are up to you... the magic we use can help him accept it quickly and help the tissue heal around it, but we'll have to see how our magic interacts... I wish we had more time, I really do." she said, her voice cold and flat as the void.

She began to sketch again, her pencil and hand a blur as she made a new sketch, quickly taking shape as... a kind of living lung. "I cannot attach it myself... and my powers... there's... no promise I'll be okay after I make it... but my sons should be able to help you considerably." she said, still in that flat, level tone.

[Jax]

Jax looked at the creatures with caution but no fear. He was in his own place of power, his own fortress. There was little he feared here. He watched these... creatures and figured his suspicions were correct. He had figured the... patient.. would not be human. Otherwise their were much better people to take him... her... it to. Instead they had sought out Jax in the very core of his territory. That plus the look of desperation on her face had left him only mildly surprised that one of them called the woman... mother... granted it gave him quite the heebies and jeebies but he shoved them down into the inner forge and walked forward to look at the wounds. They were... bad... horrible. He was honestly surprised the... being was still alive. Jax knew he probably would have died within minutes of being on the getting end of wounds like that. Instead it's wracking breath rang out in his garage. He waved at one of his minions who turned the music down till it was barely a blip on the audio radar as he looked down, and then up at woman and felt her pain, her fear... and so when he looked at the papers and saw swirls of ink only for a moment he panicked... his face contorted with it... and then Her voice was in his head...

~Easy my son... let me show you what you need to see and then do what you need to do.~

For a moment his eyes changed color, they did not glow... rather they dimmed from a bright green to a mixtures of browns, blues, greens... and even some white and red. As he heard Her voice... felt Her touch within his head and then the panic went away replaced with a look of determination. He had everything he needed... he was within his territory... within His Garage... within HIS WORKSHOP. His head snapped up and his eyes were back to the normal green before they began to glow from within the pupils as if energy was shining through them as he realized... this was his territory. There was no reason what he was doing should NOT be possible here.

As his eyes glowed as one the various minions straightened up to attention as if screamed at by a silence drill sergeant. The purple in their eyes changing with the flick of a preverbial switch the eyes shifted to the same color that was glowing in his eyes. His moved, his motions with purpose as he held the papers and the minions erupted into motion with their unknown numbers. A tool table was picked clean of tools as a couple dozen just tilted the table so they fell on the floor and the entire thing brought over near the kitchen table. Other ran to the forge and bellows were pumped without a word, others started bringing Jax tools, some looking at them only to put them back, others were just shoved in chest cavities unless they were too big in which case they were just carried. With each movement the glow in Jax's eyes intensified and a electric atmosphere crackled in the air. His hair stood farther on end as the hair gel was actually burned away from the energy he was channeling.

He slapped the 'blueprints' of the creature into the hands of couple of his 'people' who held them above their heads in perfect sync of his motions. Never in his way, always there when he needed them. His hand shot out and ripped handfuls of bare copper wire coils off a wall where they hung and a large cauldron. As he hung it over the forge fire he explained.

"We need a patch... between... whatever ya magic is... and him. Without dat patch dis will not work. A new lung isn't needed. Just a junction between ya magic and his own."

As the cauldron heated he held up the wire coil which should have weighted fifty pounds and dropped it in but not before exerting his influence on it. Where it should have taken minutes to melt it instead took seconds. He looked down into it and held out his hand as another of his 'children' handed him a titanium bar which he effortly ripped into pieces and tossed in the pot with the copper.

"Normally it would take alot of effort ta meld dese twa metals. Copper for bending and antibiotic properties... titanium for acceptance in da bonding and strength... but da what being a mage is fa... cheating."

Without warning he plunged his entire hand into the pot, a hiss of steam came up but Jax barely flinched. It hurt true... the heat had taken a moment to pull away from his hand deeper into the metal... but right now that didn't matter so he ignored it. Runes flickered over the metal as the bellows pumped and joints creaked and his hand within the metal pinked a bit with a minor layer of burns. Then he pulled it out bending his fingers so metal flaked off. He didn't hesitate as he picked up the cauldron with the same hand and poured the alloy he had forced into existence onto a flat slab as forging tools were handed to him. He cooled it with his touch again and began the process of bending the metal, not forcing it as most might do... but shaping it, bending it, willing it to be. It wasn't just brute strength it was craft to the level of artistry. The 'junction' began to take place with each perfectly measure motion. There was no wasted movement, no slowing down. It was like he had done this a thousand times as time and again his eyes flicked to the 'blueprints' of the chest cavity, of the damage.

What would have taken an expert level smith days, Jax without break, with sweat rolling down his face and arms did instead in less then an hour. He held it up for a moment, looking at the curves, the odd shine of what could only be described as 'white copper'. He looked at it and then took a knife from one of his minions and places his burnt hand on the surface of the metal as with his other he cut just a tiny bit into his own flesh. As he did the green of his eyes flickered and crackling green runes shot through the 'lung'. He slowly lifted his hand up revealing a rune now embossed in the metal and let a few drops of blood fall and fill the rune before lowering his hand over it again. There was another crackle and the rune was filled with a black red metal lined with green as he pulled his hand away. Jax smiled at this... then grabbed hold of the 'lung' and squeezed. It bent as you would expect it from metal so thin... but as he let go it instantly sprang back into shape. A look of pride was in his eyes... before he suddenly fell to one knee.

The flickering flames revealed much as he raised his head and grabbing onto the table forced his legs to take his weight. His eyes were slightly sunken in. His frame seemed a fraction less filled out and their was an unhealthy gray ting to his flesh as he breathed much harder then he had during the entire forging process. His eyes no longer glowed, and his minions regained their normal purple glow. They no longer moved as one but still some came over and standing on each other's shoulders they were level with their 'master's' armpits. Jax shook off these wannabe crutches and forced his body to move as he grabbed the 'lung' and stumbled over to the woman and the patient. He placed the 'lung next to the creature on the table that had been moved there.

"... Dat.... dat... should da it."

As one of his minions ran over holding a beer over his head he took it gladly, and popped off the top with his thumb as he took a swig.

[echidna]

Eliza nodded to Jax as he set to work on the component the patchup would need. His words... Were mostly true, this would be a patch - there was still about half of Argus's lung left in place after the wound, hanging on by shreds of bronchial tubes that had actually been perforated. The shrapnel had long been removed, and the internal bleeding had been stopped, so all that was left now was to undo the damage, in theory. As Jax set to work working the metal like a living thing... She set to moulding the flesh of the rest of the implant.

Cupping her hands, Eliza furrowed her brow and began to roll her fingers. Gradually, the friction produced warmth... And that warmth expanded as her eyes flashed from their cool grey of before into a brilliant glowing red, the air immediately around her going... Strange, like light that passed through the air near her was over-saturated with color. Her head gave a dull thrum of pain in protest as her powers were used, but she ignored it and strove to concentrate.

The vision of the implant and Jax's own contribution took shape in her head. As he processed the metal, she shaped flesh like clay, the glow in her eyes dancing like firelight, the green of the Smith's magic and the red of the Broodmother's swirling... Then sparking as they interacted in the air around them, which tasted strongly of tin as magic filled the air.

The two were in discord for only a moment - metal and life do not normally interact well... But Jax's blood and the tears that filled Eliza's eyes as she worked... Sanctified this, gave it... A kind of strange synergy. As Eliza placed her completed creation against the patch Jax had enchanted, and gently pushed them together with trembling hands ... Everything slid cleanly together. The green of the iron magic and the red of the life force... Merged, quite smoothely.

Eliza smiled, her eyes fading, and slumped nearly to her knees before Bitingston caught her and gently lowered her to a convenient chair. She... Felt weak as a kitten now, after using her powers... But as the sympaton Haimish gently picked up the implant, which even as she watched pulsated with life in rhythm with Argus's own body, she rejoiced with soft, cracked laughter and looked to Jax, eyes twinkling with tears of relief and anticipation.

The Sympatons worked in a team, and Samhain's brow stood furrowed as he watched the two work on their charge. Before Jax's eyes, the implant was, with the greatest of care, moored into place, sutured with heat and care until it held on its own, even as Argus gurgled and scratched at Jax's metal table, his claws leaving deep grooves in the tin as he tried his hardest to cry out. At one point, Lohir tried to offer him a drink from a metal flask, but the Warden slapped it aside with a torrent of wheezed, whispered curses. What a tough son of a bitch... They had their hands actually inside his body, and still he held on, still he remained conscious through sheer... Grit, and no matter how tightly he held Lohir's hand, he never stopped growling or glaring at the ceiling through the narrow window of the right side of his face like it had personally insulted him.

When the implant was at last in place, he took his first breath with a new lung and immediately hacked up a load of blackened... Muck, but his breathing after that was... More regular. He fell unconscious, but... Kept breathing.

It had taken an hour, but the Sympatons exchanged a look, and Haimish clapped Ratatat on the shoulder. The young healer had done quite well in the face of the heat - he could not be prouder of his young sibling! The two looked to Jax and their mother, and nodded.

"He's accepted the implant." Haimish said, his voice radiating his relief "He is out of danger now, and we can continue once he has had a couple hours to rest."

Eliza nodded weakly, and smiled at Jax.