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W blinked at her several times, and then nodded imploringly.
<span class="mu-b">“You choose.”</span>
Iara frowned.
<span class="mu-b">“You…want me to pick out your name?”</span>
W nodded vigorously. Iara laid her head back and breathed out a long sigh, staring up into the clouds.
<span class="mu-b">“Alright. How about…’Joyce’. I’ve always liked that name.”</span>
<span class="mu-b">“Joyce. Joyce…”</span>
W said the name over and over, testing the words on her tongue. After a few more seconds of this, she smiled weakly at her fellow Morlock.
<span class="mu-b">“I like it. Thanks.”</span>
Glass rubbed her shoulder affectionately.
<span class="mu-g">“It’s a good name.”</span>
Joyce’s smile grew a bit wider at that.
Finally, Iara turned to face you. Neither of you said anything for a while. There was so much to say, and yet, so little time. But if there was one thing you weren’t going to say, it was “goodbye”. Because you made her a promise. You were going to make sure that she got through this, one way or another. Because you were the goddamn Huntsman, and there wasn’t a single damned thing that you couldn’t do if you put your mind to it.
—---------
The next few hours were…stressful to say the least. Iara deteriorated before your very eyes. After the first hour, she stopped speaking and just…stared off into the distance. After the second hour, she forgot how to breathe on her own, and you managed to get an oxygen mask over her mouth before any more damage could be done to her brain.
Once or twice, her body would spasm violently, and you’d have to wrestle her back under control. The time you spent in that pocket dimension were some of the single, most terrifying moments of your life. And when the others came to let you out, you nearly sagged with relief.
—--------
You and your team rushed Iara out of the portal and onto a waiting gurney. The helicopter had landed on the roof of one of the best hospitals in the area, and Gloria and her minions were already there to accept the converter and care for your friend.
Prowler was placing the assembled converter in a secure container for them to take, while Cat, Araña and Benga were pulled aside for a quick check-up.
You stared past the crime boss and followed Iara with your eyes as she was carted away and towards a waiting elevator, Glass and W racing after them. Flint and Anastasia were standing on either side of you for support, but neither of them said a word.
<span class="mu-r">“They’ll take good care of her. I pay them too much for them to display anything less than the absolute best medical care. I’m also having a specialist flown in to have a look at her. She’s had some previous contact with the Atlas Foundation, and she was also one of the people who assisted in creating <span class="mu-i">me</span>.”</span>
You turned to look at her then. Her face was no longer a stony mask of cold indifference. She looked genuinely regretful, despite her assurance that your goals were met.
(Cont.)
