The depths of space were boundless and deathly silent, the galaxies slowly revolving like an endless river strewn with crushed diamonds. Against this vast backdrop, a fragment of a shattered planet floated quietly, like a gravestone left behind by an ancient war.
Cracks covered its surface, lava flowing between them like blood and casting an eerie red glow. Injustice Superman lay on this broken land, his chest heaving violently. Sweat rolled down his forehead like rain, each drop carrying faint electrical arcs as it evaporated into a fine mist in the vacuum.
"Bear with it. If you can't, pretend you can, and then you'll be able to." Ian delivered his medical advice of [Listening to your words is like listening to words].
He had no white coat of his own.
This was a loss for Earth's medical system, at least in his opinion, so he took out a white sheet originally intended for his enemies,
and those who had died miserable deaths, and draped it over himself.
A little manual tailoring made it look quite respectable.
Ian's fingers brushed lightly along the edge of Injustice Superman's abdominal cavity, the metallic sensation making him shiver slightly. Though Kryptonian skin was as tough as something beyond science, that posed no difficulty for Lord Ian.
The edge of All-Black the Necrosword shone with a powerful black light in Ian's hand. With an anatomist's precision, he sliced open Injustice Superman's ulcerated abdomen, the edges of the wounds caused by golden particle radiation glittering with tiny flecks of gold.
A long, narrow incision opened silently, exposing the deep cavity within. His gaze was focused, like a surgeon inspecting a precision instrument, or a gardener surveying soil about to be sown. When the sword tip lifted the final layer of peritoneum, Ian could not help marveling