#hella99

     When Ninety-Nine’s eyes drew open, the environment she was in was far different than all of the ones she had seen before.

     It was sterile, there were no masked men and women prodding at her, waiting for her body to turn. It smelled pleasant, with no lingering iron baked into the sheets of her bed or the walls of the room. It lacked the chains For as much as she could see, she was safe. 

     But safety only meant so much when she was alone.

     A dark-haired woman entered the room, hand in pocket. “You’re awake.”

     Ninety-Nine didn’t even bother responding, sitting up and ready to pounce when the doctor’s gaze redirected itself to the former lab rat’s side. 

     Glancing down and following the doctor’s gaze, Ninety-Nine found none other than Hella, curled up against her side and clinging to her gown, sound asleep. Her shoulders immediately dropped, and she returned to laying down, choosing instead to wrap her arms around Hella and hug her close.

     “You’re lucky the Chief was lenient,” the doctor sighed. “...And that she recovers quickly.”

     Marking a couple of things down on Ninety-Nine’s chart and giving her one last glance-over, the doctor left the room, letting Ninety-Nine have her privacy.

     With a yawn, Hella buried her face into the crook of Ninety-Nine’s neck, whispering, “Don’t do that again.”

     “You were hurt,”

     Hella pulled back to grimace, staring up at Ninety-Nine with a face nothing short of pure disappointment. Despite the woman being significantly shorter and wielding a pipe in comparison to a large sword, Hella was often the one to chastise Ninety-Nine, who gave way to her every time.

     “I can heal myself.” Hella deadpanned.

     Ninety-Nine opened her mouth, shut it, then tugged Hella into another hug. “...Okay.”

     Though the exchange had its tense moment, it quickly passed, and the two were back to their usual routine and nigh-inseparable. A comfortable silence took them as they searched for something to occupy their time, settling on a magazine about the latest and greatest to come out of DisCity.

     Not that either of them cared all too much about DisCity - the only thing they could be bothered to care about was each other.

     “You two should get- “ the doctor paused in the threshold of Ninety-Nine’s room when she spotted the two curled up, reading said magazine. “I’ll have Anne bring over your meals.”

     Hella peaked over the magazine with a smug grin, then returned to reading. Ninety-Nine didn’t notice the brief exchange of glares the two shared, too immersed at a nice jacket and dress. The kind that she’d figure Hella would wear if she wasn’t caught up with Sinners and MBCC and the lifeblood of DisCity.

     At the side of her face, Hella spat out, “Who the fuck would wear that?”

     “I think it would look nice on you.” Ninety-Nine commented.

     “I like my beanie, thank you.”

     The former lab rat didn’t even notice there was a beanie in the magazine to begin with.

     Ninety-Nine angled her head to get a better look at it, then the one atop Hella’s head. To say it was well-worn was an understatement, but it carried the same charm that Hella often did. She shrugged, kissing Hella on the temple, and looked back at the magazine.