Work Text:
Hello all,
In my celebration of the icon that is Modo, I wanted to try to capture one side of him. I noticed a few times that he is rather protective of his team and cherishes them deeply – so I will plan a couple stories to try and explore his sides.
This will be the first. Rated for injury.
Please enjoy my rambling and musings.
Respectfully,
Eliana
IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI
The thunder of Jett’s fist slamming into the commissioner’s desk echoed through the room, and the wolves who had begun to move forward froze when the moose raised his hoof to signal a stop. They reluctantly stood down, the security badges on their chests suddenly seeming rather useless.
“That maniac could have killed someone if he wouldn’t have stepped in. He risked his life protecting people – and he could still lose it, all thanks to your failure of vetting! He protected people and was defending himself. Since when is self-defense grounds for suspension?!”
“The grounds, Miss Fillmore, are where I say they are as commissioner. Self-defense is one thing, as is defending your team. What we witnessed was simple, focused aggression with an intent to kill. If he hadn’t gone down when he did, he could have caused far more harm to them than was excusable in any instance – including these circumstances. Until the Disease Control Commission returns a definitive diagnosis of Mr. Massat, we will default our judgement to the video that we can see.”
“You’re making a mistake,” her voice came out in a growl as she pushed herself back upright off where she had been leaning on the desk, “Maybe he should have let that feral get a hold of someone else first so you couldn’t turn him into a scapegoat.”
That was probably a step too far, marked by the upward-quirked brow of the old moose. Right now, she really didn’t care. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, telling her someone was trying to get her attention.
“This conversation is going nowhere,” she stated coldly, turning on her heel to march back toward the door, “I have a teammate to support.”
“Jett, I don’t fault him for why he did what he did,” the commissioner’s voice made her briefly pause, “I’m simply defending ROAR from what could become a mass-hysteria. The Board of Governors agreed with my decision to delay the season until further notice to control the aftermath. His suspension won’t last more than a game or two beyond that.”
“He warned you. Many times.”
“We found his concerns to be unfounded.”
Her breath swooped into her lungs with a low growl, sharp eyes spying him over her shoulder.
“And now?”
IOIOIOIOIOIOIOI
She had seen it brewing well before it had actually happened, you know… and part of her was still kicking herself for not believing that what she was seeing was accurate. Granted, no animal came with a Rosetta Stone translation or a “body language for dummies” handbook, but from one predator to another she had almost…smelled it.
The first instance had been when they were coming out of the tunnel in Atlantic City. It had been one of those rather fancy to-dos where all of the teams gathered, most showing off their new recruits while the players held strained talks to keep the owners and financers of their teams happy. She had decided to play this one last year as her final victory-lap while the crew picked their next – thankfully, her leg had only gotten stronger over time, and the bond between all of her companions had only gotten deeper. At events like this, where she found one, she typically found the others close by.
She had come across her team all gathered on a balcony lightly picking on Olivia’s obsession with her hair. Archie was happily watching his girls try to embrace their innocent sides and help her, Will and Lenny were egging her on just because, and Jett herself was rather amused at the whole scene. They acted more like free teenagers than professional Roarball players.
A very slight movement in her peripheral triggered her to look up to where her final teammate (and team owner) crouched on one of the jutting columns just above them. Leave it to Modo to be dressed to the nines as he was, only to completely dismantle the look when his focus changed. It wasn’t so much that the reptile chose the vantage spot of a bird or the fact that he crouched like a cat that made her actually concerned… it was his eyes.
With Modo, the only way she could ever figure out if he was in a bitey mood or not was how his eyes looked.
Both looking in different directions usually meant he was being a smart-alec.
One eye on you and the other gazing out into space meant you had his attention.
Glistening and stargazed was his tell of affection and joy.
Head tilted with a focused iris meant he was listening, but was in a good mood.
Dilated pupils meant deep focus.
But this look? This look she had never seen before, and there was something in it that was making the hair on her arms stand on end. He had lost all of his air of carefree shenanigans, and in its place was a deep cloud of straight lightning that thickened the oxygen in their space. Both of his eyes were glued forward, his lips twitching in a fight for control where they hid his teeth. His tail had caused the motion that had caught her eye, and again it swung. He had yet to blink or even lick his eye for moisture. His tongue rhythmically flickered in and out of his mouth, its journey measured.
What was he looking at?
She followed his eyes to spy another team across the way, most of their group chatting and laughing among each other. The Shivers, she noted, with their newest recruit.
That recruit, a rather rough-looking Siberian tiger fresh from the college leagues, wasn’t focused on his team. He was focused on literally everyone else in the gathering, but was currently locked in on the Thorns standing on the balcony. When the observer finally spied Modo on the column above them the reaction was immediate, his gaze swiftly broken and body turned inward to pretend to immersed in conversation with his team.
Just as quickly the tension had left Modo. With a joyful trill he vaulted himself down to fawn over the current work being done on Olivia’s hair, bringing a special sparkle to it with his usual flair. All at once he was back to his colorful, dance-happy, confident self in his royal purple top.
Jett had convinced herself that she was far too invested in the odd behaviors of the crazy lizard – what did it matter if there was some competitive tension between teams? Welcome to Roarball. Besides, Modo had shut him down easy enough.
She never should have thought that. She should have pushed, she should have trusted his instincts, should have tried to get an answer from him even if he was hard for her to understand.
IOIOIOIOI
Twice in a rather short span of time, namely across two games, the tension leapt higher. Admitting it to herself now only made her feel worse: she had seen him react in defense, but she had corrected him rather harshly when the game was over. The more blatant of the two had come in the Greenhouse… but come to think of it now, she misunderstood what it was that she had seen.
It had been a quick exchange, but the language was clear as day. It happened at the retreat for halftime. Olivia, Will, and Modo were the last to slowly meander off the court, with the ostrich and the goat bantering lightly as they passed Modo who had paused to turn back. Jett had seen him bolt forward but lost track of him in the valley of a mess of vine.
She had almost jogged to get him back into sight as Will and Olivia paused next to her, seeing her anxiety. She had initially felt a surge of relief when the bright spikes on his head distinguished him from the foliage. That relief had turned outward to concern when she finally registered what she was seeing.
Modo was crouched down, one clawed palm digging into the soil beneath him while the other was held to his side as a barrier blocking the path his teammates had taken to the locker room. That same tiger (Rohdi Massat, she had learned by then) was right in front of him, towering over his smaller frame. They stood toe-to-toe, tooth-to-tooth, darn near eye to eye. If he had wanted to, Modo had a clear shot at this idiot’s throat. She could hear both of them growling from where she was… this was no normal argument. This was dangerous.
The refs had already made their way over to separate the two while blowing a cacophony of whistles, and in her misunderstanding Jett had taken Modo’s initial non-compliance as a bit of flexing. His seemingly shallow dislike of this tiger was putting them all at risk if he didn’t get over it. Granted, he had never done that before, but there was something between these two that was causing new, bad habits.
Rohdi had backed down first, if only because his massive captain had appeared behind him and pulled him back. Jett had been more amused than anything as she took a couple steps forward that the massive polar bear seemed far more nervous of the lizard than the tiger was. Modo didn’t so much as twitch until they were off their side of the court.
The proverbial light switch flipped and the dragon was back, his head tilting back and forth a couple of times before his tongue flopped out of his mouth. He shot off with a cackle back across the court and past her, doing some exuberant leaps and bounds over to her.
She had snapped a bit at him, telling him to not get himself into trouble because of the attitude of some greenhorn. Modo had, in his normal fashion, snapped up to give her a flashy salute with his tongue lolling from his mouth.
“Так, капітан,” his accented voice had said as his pupils flopped to either side of his head. In any other scenario, it would have meant that all was well.
Now, it should have been the ultimate sign for her that something wasn’t right. He had never done a single thing to undermine her leadership, had never said a cross word about her… for him to overstep multiple times in a row should have been the biggest red flag. Even since gaining ownership of the team, he had left her to make the leadership decisions of the crew. Until now.
In hindsight, the flags couldn’t have been any redder if someone beat her between the eyes with them.
IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI
It was the calm lull this morning when everything shattered to pieces right in front of her. She had never particularly enjoyed playing Shivers home games – something about the ice-coated arena made her despise the location. Between the biting chill on her nose and the pads of her paws, she would usually count down the minutes until they got to return to the hotel. Every single time they were here, she couldn’t imagine how her cold-blooded comrade managed the full time being active and aware.
She would have given anything to go back today and just have a normal, cold, numb nose, tingling toe, irritated whisker day. What had played out was the thing of absolute nightmares. There had been a full day postponement of the scheduled game due to the bergs of ice forming on the field, the water that had unexpectedly dropped from the sprinkler system above causing the problem. The same water had caused other areas of the field to wear down the ice to a thin sheet, making a ripe challenge for the court crew to correct.
They had been at it on the north side of the court all morning, and she remembered that they had all headed to lunch as she lumbered down the empty, icy hall. The team was here in the aftermath of team meeting called by Dennis, as well as two friends of Will’s. Nice enough kids, she huffed to herself, but a little too energetic for her at her age.
Archie, his girls, Lenny, Olivia, and Dennis were back in the meeting room, waiting on her to return with Will (who wasn’t answering his blasted phone) so they could be ready for Modo’s return from a meeting he had demanded with the commissioner.
Again…another flag she should have noticed. Instead, she viewed everything as regular.
It was all a scene that she had seen played out before. Many, many, many times before she had wandered down these empty, icy halls with her steps echoing off the wall… many, many, many times before, it had played out just fine. Today was…
She didn’t know how to put it. But she remembered how it played out.
Will’s voice had tickled her ears, echoing from a bit further down. It was the crashing and shredding that had her heart jumping and her step speeding up to a light jog. She wasn’t the first to reach Will, Hannah, and Darrell where they were crunched together, all hunched over in concern yet taking small half-steps backward. Jett’s eyes explained exactly why that was rather quickly.
Rhodi was absolutely writhing on the ground near the south entrance to the court, every muscle absolutely straining against himself as he glitched between shredding the ice below him and gnawing violently at his own arms. With his head facing away from them she could only see his straining, not his face…. But her blood was freezing. This was no seizure. The ten or so animals next to and behind her were thinking the same, no one sure what to do and not willing to approach.
“Yo?” Will tried again, his voice raised a bit more, “Yo, bro? You good man? You need some help?”
Rhodi’s body ceased its writhing and clawing, all of his muscles tensing to turn his head around toward them. The panting, foaming jaw and the absolutely barren, soulless eyes screamed at the animals he now faced one thing:
“Run,” Jett gasped out as she took a step back, “RUN!”
The entire herd was off and sprinting back toward the meeting and locker rooms, the gurgling roar of the feral tiger ricocheting off the ice behind them.
“Oh scat, oh scat, oh scat!” the goat was gasping as they sprinted, and any other time Jett would have corrected him – only because it was said in front of the public. Right now? Right now she shared the sentiment.
She grabbed the garbage can next to her, dumping it down in an attempt to slow Rhodi down. The meeting room was only a few hundred feet down the hall, and rapid-fire the small herd blitzed into it – and Jett, in a split-second decision, grabbed the chair near the door to throw it behind her.
She never got the chance. She had just reached the doorway when she twisted to throw it, but instead got the chair snapped in half and her body thrown backward into the room of animals fleeing from the one who now stood outside the door. She heard the surprised screams of some of the ones behind her as she landed on her back. Ears pinned back and teeth bared she stared up at the hollow eyes looking down on her.
The foaming mouth roared and Rhodi raised a paw.
And then he let out a surprised yowl when the solid green mass absolutely sidelined him with a body slam, sending both of them rolling back toward where the group had run from. Jett scrambled to her feet to grab the double door, one locking shut and the other one close to it…. Before she realized what was happening.
In between them and Rhodi was Modo. Both predators were locked in a frigid stare-down, Modo down on all fours with saliva covered teeth well visible. His tail swung angrily, nails digging into the icy floor as his throat rumbled a very clear warning. The tiger stood over him, hunched, snarling with those dead eyes locked onto his.
Modo gave one last warning growl. Jett couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why couldn’t she move?
Even when the two predators leapt together in a fury of gnashing teeth and shredding claws and savage snarls she just stood there like a useless sack of scat. Why didn’t she move?
She remembered watching Modo get thrown across the hall and through a decorative ice window, and she remembered the now-wounded tiger turn to look at her. She still hadn’t moved.
She didn’t move when her friend came back with a vengeance and latched onto the tiger’s neck with a devastating crunch, drawing an agonized howl from the feline before that green tail swung and slammed the door shut with her behind it. The only time she moved was when she was forced to, falling backward again to the cold floor. Now safe behind the doors she could only listen to the second quick gnashing of teeth before the sounds of the two retreated back toward the court.
Her breath was clouding in front of her face, the numbness of the adrenaline surging through her system blocking out the crying of the twins behind her, the frantic chatting of animals on their phones to the dispatchers on the other side, and her own pain at having fallen twice. It also took an extra moment for the reality to sink in.
Modo.
Modo.
Oh scat –
“Modo!” she heard herself shout as she scrambled to her feet, and she was out the door, slamming it shut behind her, and blitzing down the hall before the yells of protest behind her started sounding.
She reached the court before being stopped by a couple gorillas. Her neck craned and strained to find any trace of her friend.
Modo! Where was he?
Her eyes desperately scanned the court for any sign of the familiar green scales but found only dark blue uniforms of law enforcement, shreds of green and blue shirts speckled around, splotches of red slathered on the ice, and –
Oh no. Oh please no. The sloshing dark water at the northern side of the court tossed bits of ice onto the solid sheet above. Oh no they had gone through the ice!
“We have to get him out of the water!” her voice was barely noticeable among the shouting instructions of the officers all around her.
It didn’t translate below the crackling ice where her teammate was, either. The pain of the gouges and gnashes across his shoulder, neck, arms, and back were swiftly numbed by the frigid water. Blessed water… but… cold…
Modo could spy the struggling tiger absolutely flailing to get back onto the ice above him. Hellfire claimed that one, and the catch poles that hoisted him out of the frigid depths seemed a mercy. Blessed water helped Modo protect his team… but… so cold… Modo was cold, and Modo was beginning to slow.
He began to incrementally make his way toward the surface until a piece of the shattered ice above scratched along the open gouge across his back. Under the water the closest he could get to a pained howl was a rapid exhale of air through his mouth, bubbling the pain to the water’s surface. Blessed water took Modo’s pain and released it, but… it also took from him his egg.
The beautiful blue Faberge egg slipped from his gullet, and desperately he numbly swiped at it to recapture it. He failed. He tried again. And failed. Blessed water cleaned Modo’s wounds and helped him protect his team, but… in payment, it took his egg.
…so cold. He was so cold. So tired.
Live, Modo, the water told him. Modo must live, Modo must leave ice. He watched his most precious egg drift out of his fading eyesight then barely crawled his way to the surface. The blessed water kissed his pained lungs, surging back out of his gasping jaw as he finally emerged again, claws dragging his body out of the water and onto one of the small icebergs on the court.
He came to a rest when his entire frame had been drawn out, his chest and neck flopping uselessly onto the ice. His arms came to rest with his palms on the biting ground, and even to his own ears his breath came rattling.
Cold. Modo was very cold… Modo was very tired…Modo could hear the shoes coming across the ice as an involuntary pain groan left him, he could feel the frost rise from his heavy exhale as his breathing slowed. A slow swipe of his tongue smelled the little goat, and his Kapitan, and so many others.
Modo lost egg, he wanted to say. Maybe one day, the blessed water would give the egg back. That was his hope as he drifted away.
IOIOIOIOI
All of that is what had led Jett here now, perched on a chair in the large hospital room. Her friend was on the bed next to her, looking so… heart wrenching. The flamboyant Modo that she knew and had come to hold close wasn’t here. Instead, there was a paled, gouged, wounded Komodo on this bed, restraints tied to his limbs, a muzzle wrap on his jaw, a towel over his eyes, oxygen mask around his muzzle, an IV in his tail, and blankets over the hospital gown that was the replacement for the drenched clothing he had come in with.
His body was in the same position that he had been in when he was brought in. Suspended animation, the doctor had told her a few minutes ago, and, somehow, his additional lack of consciousness made that seem more bearable. The restraints were for his safety, she had said, because he might be afraid when he would start to come out of it. If this is what it took to scare Modo, Jett had no idea what he was made of.
The team was on their way shortly, minus two twins who needed the comfort of home and two friends of Will who needed to reset. Archie fully trusted his nanny and swore he would be back – and by the texts that kept rolling in on her phone, she knew he was right. Until then, she sat in this room. She was useless here, but she had some shallow hope that at least Modo wouldn’t feel alone wherever his mind was.
He would regain consciousness in due time, the doctor had said. She had dared to call him ‘fortunate’, saying that despite the ferocity of the fight that he hadn’t lost too much blood, and that he had only needed a handful of the wounds stitched. They had cleaned those wounds well and left him reeking of betadine and chlorhexidine, and had avoided introducing any medication.
That meant no pain management, Jett realized. The sudden temperature drop made the injuries seem miniscule, it had been explained, and until he was out of cold shock they couldn’t risk dropping his blood pressure more. He had to warm on his own lest they accidentally kill him with their attempts to save him.
“I’m sorry that I can’t do anything to help right now,” Jett initially spoke to the room itself, then turned to look at the Komodo, “And I’m sorry… I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening. That they didn’t listen.”
Of course, there was no answer. His heart was beating a bit faster than it had been when she first arrived, and his temperature was almost back to 55 (at least according to the monitor across from her)… but she hoped selfishly that he would stay out for a while. The higher his temperature got the more likely he would be able to get something to help with pain before he came around. The longer he stayed out, the longer she had to come up with something to say.
Modo being Modo, he had been five steps ahead of all of them but acted clueless.
Modo being Modo, he had smelled the trouble before it started and tried to intervene.
Modo being Modo, he had taken her correction on the chin instead of pointing out that he wasn’t having a pissing match with some random player. He had been protecting them.
Modo being Modo, he had been incredibly clear that there was danger imminent and had gone out of his way to make things right in his own way.
He may be vain, but he was far more protective of his team than he was of himself.
Just like when he had won the team. He hadn’t done it for greed. He had done it for the right reasons. She hadn’t understood him then, so she would stand by him now. He deserved that much.
He seemed to sense her realization and wanted to address it. It started as a small twitch of his tail and fingers. His mind was moving much faster than his sluggish body.
Modo was cold, wanted to move. He wasn’t on ice… he was on something softer. Weird.
Where?
Modo tried to move, but there was pain. And restraint. He opened his eyes but saw only a muted grey through fabric, and his jaw failed to open with the restriction of the muzzle.
Pain. There was pain. And restraint. And cold. And fear. Modo was trapped, had to escape.
He tried as hard as he could to break free, succeeding in being able to pivot his head a bit despite the neck restraint and let out an angry hiss. It was a hollow noise. He was powerless. The sounds of the room were slowly leaking in to his consciousness and he realized he wasn’t alone, but not being able to see who was with him brought that panic back stronger. He had to be FREE.
Whoever was there was talking faster now, their voice closer to him. Something touched his neck – a paw – and he fought all that much harder. Somehow the tiger had come back, and he had to fight. But so cold. And such pain.
Suddenly there was a change that invaded his nose, a change that went from hissing air to a familiar smell. He managed to slip his tongue through his bound jaw.
Kapitan. Jett. The Kapitan. That’s who was there.
That realization made him exhale and come to complete surrender, his body going limp and his head flopping back to the bed he lay on. Carefully, slowly, the fabric over his eyes was lifted and he struggled to adjust to the light. When he was finally able to focus, he found his captain crouched in front of his face, keeping a cautious distance away from where his floundering head had been able to strike.
“Hey,” she almost whispered, watching those irises soften with recognition, “That’s it. That’s right. Nice and slow. You’re okay.”
A deep breath of air flared the sides of Modo’s nostrils, his exhale releasing any worry she had over him not recognizing her. It was odd to see his face without the nose ring, but her focus was only for the look in his eyes.
“I’m going to take this off,” she told him slowly, gesturing to the contraption holding his jaw shut and ignoring the protest from the nurses who had stopped in the doorway at the noise, “But if you bite me, it’s going back on.”
Cautiously she reached a paw over to the clasp that was fastened behind his head, snapping it open and pulling it free from his face. In relief Modo opened his jaw and let his tongue flop free, watching Jett toss it carelessly onto the counter behind her.
“There you go,” she murmured, reaching over to grab her chair and pull it over, “That feels better, doesn’t it?”
She retrieved the mask she had pulled free a bit ago, going to replace it and pausing only briefly at the incredibly weak attempt at a nip of protest. She fixed the Komodo with a hard look.
“Not optional. Don’t look at me like that.”
She set the mask in front of his snout but didn’t tie it back down.
“Fair?”
His irises split in different directions and his tongue flopped from the corner of his jaw as he gave an absent-minded half-blink. Yes. Fair. She waved the nurses over, telling them to just do their jobs quietly.
“How are you feeling?”
Oh yes. That was a WONDERFUL way to start this conversation. Modo seemed to struggle to get his lips to move correctly, and after a couple of failed tries his face twisted in annoyance. Fixing her with one pupil, he tried again.
“Safe?”
“Yes, you’re safe,” she was quick to reassure, growing confused at his shallow shake of his head.
“Not Modo. Team safe?”
She wanted to grab him and shake the heck out of him. Of all the times she wanted him vain and self-centered, it was now.
“The team is fine. So is everyone else – thanks to you.”
He seemed satisfied with that. He took a slow breath, and as he exhaled he gave a crunched face and a deep grimace.
“Easy, easy. Deep breath,” Jett tried to coach, grabbing the oxygen mask up closer to his clenched jaw, “Easy. You okay?”
“Modo hurt,” he ground out, then his lip trembled, “Is cold.”
“We will get you something for pain soon, Mr. Olachenko,” the nurse doe that had been charting what she saw on the charts spoke softly, giving him an apologetic look, “We just need your temperature to go a bit higher first. I’ll go ask the doctor if we can utilize a heat lamp now.”
She and her colleague retreated from the room. Dully Jett watched them go, and when she turned back to her injured friend she almost panicked.
“Whoa, whoa – hey, you’re okay,” she rushed to reassure him, deeply disturbed to see his eyes swimming with tears, “You’re gonna be okay. They’ll be back soon and we’ll get you comfortable. Deep breaths.”
One swimming iris focused on her.
“Modo lose,” he told her sadly, his arms moving a small bit within their restraints.
“I promise you didn’t lose that fight, Modo. You took on a dude twice your size and dunked his sorry self into a frozen lake. You owned him.”
“Modo know he won fight. Tiger slow…Modo is faster,” the words came thick and slow. Then, lip trembling and a tear falling, he managed to say it, “Modo lose egg.”
Jett’s heart sank. Oh no.
What could she say to that? What was there to say?
She was spared the pain of trying to solve that mystery via a gentle rap on the door, and a glance over her shoulder told her the team had arrived.
“Hey guys,” she greeted them with a sad smile, trying to break the tension of what they were walking into, “Modo, look who’s here.”
“Hey, bro!”, “Hey, Modo!” the greetings all came as the animals walked in, and together they were all relived to hear his purring growl of happiness. None of them wanted to address the tears – there was no sense bringing in useless strain right now.
“We brought the fun,” Lenny told the, flashing a smile and holding up the bags containing the PS5 and games to show them off before heading over to the large TV in the room.
“And a little… decoration,” Olivia grinned, setting loose the balloons she had been grasping.
She was thrilled to watch the watery eyes watch the balloons bounce off the ceiling, Modo’s head slightly bopping happily in the same motion that the balloons took in response to the ceiling air vent pumping air into the room. He was well-focused on them and considerably calmer as Lenny set up the game and settled into beginning to play a set with Archie, purring happily when the nurses returned and set him free of his restraints and set up two warming lights over his bed on their lowest setting.
Still pain. Less cold. More happy. Modo’s mind was happier, content to watch the game unfolding on the TV ahead of him. It was Will who crossed the bed to his other side, sitting on a pulled-up chair and setting his bookbag down at his feet. Modo looked at him with a tired eye.
“Why wet?”
“Yeah, that’s a good question. Why the heck are you wet, kid?” Jett asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Will offered Modo a soft smile.
“I’ll tell you, but have to promise something first.”
“Tell Modo.”
“You have to stay still and let me give it to you – no jumping around and hurting yourself more.”
The Komodo blinked in confusion. Will tried again.
“Modo? You have to promise.”
Jett was more than a little amused.
“Modo promises,” was the gravely answer, Modo’s body moving incrementally to settle the lactic acid that had set in a while ago.
“You heard him promise,” Will announced to the room, an agreement sounding from the others in the room.
He reached down to unzip his bag and reach inside, retrieving a carefully bundled wrap of towels and cloth that he pulled up to his lap.
“I’m wet because I went swimming,” he told the Komodo, then corrected himself, “Actually, it was Hannah and Darrel and me because we didn’t know where to look. Hannah actually found it because I think she was a racoon in a past life.”
Delicately he separated the bundle of cloths, almost as though he were handling fractured glass – and slowly, carefully, he unwrapped the unharmed sapphire Faberge egg. The reaction was almost immediate. Modo’s head shot up, but he surprisingly froze when Will, Jett, and Olivia all reached out as if they were going to hold him still.
“You promised,” Will told him calmly, knowing that the small motion had zapped what energy Modo had. When his head rested down again, even though his tail was slightly wiggling with joy, the goat crept close, placing the egg within the crook of Modo’s right arm so it could nest comfortably within his grasp, “You got it?”
The low, purring rumbles sounded again as Modo shifted a bit more to make sure it was tightly wedged in his hold. Any time before Will might have found the thankful lick of the cool tongue disgusting, but now he understood what it meant.
“How did goat know?”
“You said you lost it when I got to you on the court.”
“So how did you know he lost it in the water?” Jett pressed.
Will shrugged.
“Lucky guess.”
“You guessed?!”
“Hey, I guessed right, it just took some digging!”
“And what was your plan if it wasn’t in there?”
Whatever came next in the banter was drowned out in Modo’s head. Blessed water had allowed the goat to retrieve Modo’s egg, blessed water gave Modo yet another gift this day. A content grumble left his lungs at the warmth of the lamps on his back, the cool touch of his egg pressed to his scales, the gentle warmth of the morphine that the nurses finally administered, the joyful dance of the balloons above his head, and the love that floated in the room filled with his chosen family.
A half-hearted protest nip at the oxygen mask being replaced on his face was met with a no-nonsense look from Jett.
“Not optional,” she reminded him, satisfied when he went back to purring.
Olivia found her place next to Will, manifesting a set of nail polishes from her bag that she used to set about fixing the chipped gel on Modo’s fingers. The Komodo seemed mesmerized by the process as the drugs took hold and stole his pain away. Slowly losing his fight with sleep, he managed to push out:
“Modo… still snack?”
“No way, man,” Lenny responded back to him.
Modo felt himself frown.
“You’re an icon, buddy,” Archie stated.
Sleep claimed him.
IOIOIOIOIOIOI
“We are pleased to announce that The Vineland Thorn’s Modo Olachenko was released from Cryos Memorial Hospital this morning and is headed home today. Thanks to his bravery, we’ve been told that there were no injuries to any other individuals in this incident. We here at WCCB news wish Mr. Olachenko a swift recover, and he and his team a safe journey home. Joining us now with more details on the incident is ROAR commissioner JB Buckingham. JB?”
“Thank you all for having me. In light of the DCC finding of viral rabies within Shivers player Rohdi Masset after the incident, we here at ROAR would also like to acknowledge the personal sacrifice that Mr. Olachenko demonstrated. Being one of the few on-site at the time that is naturally immune to the virus, without his intervention the incident could have been far worse. In light of this information, all suspension errors placed on Mr. Olachenko have been dismissed, and ROAR looks forward to having him return as soon as he is ready.
We have initiated an investigation into the vetting process that failed to detect the lack of vaccination in Mr. Masset, as well as what measures must be put in place to avoid such incidents in the future. We would like to assure that there is NO ongoing threat and the season will be postponed one more week before…”
The sound of the news broadcast was a distant white noise covering Dennis’s strained snores, both covered by hearty laughter and a still-rough voice singing:
“Uno, Uno, Uno!”
IOIOIOIOIOIOIOI
Almost four months later, the crowd in the Greenhouse roared in acknowledgment to the announcement:
“The Thorns are on their way to finals!”
Modo spent his evening dancing around his egg.
IOIOIOIOIOIOIOI
Modo is icon. I hope you enjoyed.
Respectfully,
Eliana