What’s in the Bag? What’s in the FUCKING bag!?

((Continuation of It's a Healthy Baby... Wyvern? ))

Right from when Flask had left the sickbay, he went straight to the science labs to fix his stubs that were his arms. The baby wyvern was still on his shoulder, wide asleep, so he didn’t have to worry about it freaking out over what he was about to do… hopefully. He made it to the lab and made it into his own personal lab (having to open the doors with his elbows) afterward as he closed and locked the door behind him and went to what he came here for. The brown, leather bag that he was carrying around with him a couple of times on the station, was sitting idle in a seat, waiting for it to be opened and its contents used. He walked over to it, and he began to open it. The bag was semi-difficult to open without any hands, but now with the wrapping around his arm’s ends gone it was fairly easy to open and could be done so without his hands slipping off of what he needed to put pressure on because of any bandages on. He got the pressure locks loose and the tie from the inside undone , and got the thing loose entire bag’s straps loose. A wicked smile grew on Flask’s face as he opened up the bag to reveal what he was hiding the entire time. It was a giant stack that went up near the brim of the bag of severed hands. Specifically Flask’s hands with the open wound part… dried up. It was a black, dried up blood-sealed hand which Flask was waiting to use for this very moment. He reaches down, and grabs one with his teeth as he moved it to a table, and laid it down. The little bit of light coming from anywhere in the room, and the hand’s shape relative to the darkness, shows two more details. One, it had a communicator on its wrist with a little bit more arm extending out before being cut off at where there is obviously an open wound but isn’t bleeding for whatever reason. There was dried blood as a wall on the wound but… is Flask’s blood really that thick? Secondly, it had a bulge of Flask’s potion in its palm, most likely another one of his explosion potions

Besides that, Flask comes back with his second tool to use for this process, an extremely shark kitchen knife. He had it on its handle by the teeth as well, and laid it down on the table next to the severed hand. Lastly, Flask had to trace a specific part of his arm. Wherever that place was for what he was about to do, he had a very weird way to get where exactly it was. He brought out his tongue and traced a straight line of his saliva across his lower forearm, what was of it at least. Then, he did the same thing for the severed hand, even licking the communicator strap to keep track of the tracing as he got to the palm of he hand. After that, Flask began to think. He thought and calculated for a while, after a couple of minutes, Flask began to lick the same way on his forearm, somehow completely the same way with the straight line like before, in the same spot too. But then, near the end of his arm that was his stub, he stopped, and quickly licked sideways in a way that was somehow perfectly parallel to the end of his arm. That must have been some sort of tracking point, and it would prove to be so. Flask got the knife back in this teeth, and put the edge against his elbow’s fold. And from there, he began to trace the blade softly against his forearm, gently and quietly. Flask wanted to make sure he didn’t mess this up, since it would just be a mess if he screwed up now. The blade eventually cane to a stop when its dragged end reached the sideways saliva mark Flask had licked onto his arm. And from there, it was lifted off of his arm, bits of spit pushed against it during the drag and it even dripped a couple of times. Flask then stood still with his dead lifted and drooling knife in hand as he does a bit more calculating. Then… he tightens his grip on the knife. And then, without a second thought, headbangs his head so low that the knife’s blade would impact his arm

It had impacted his arm so hard that it cut off the stubby end of it, perfectly in line where Flask left the checkmark of spit on it arm. Blood began to quietly splatter everywhere as Flask just stayed silent. He didn’t even sound like he was in pain, not at all. From there he quickly dropped the knife, not caring that it fell off the table and went down to the floor as he reached his teeth out and grabbed the severed hand. He then took his blood-squirting arm as he then rammed the hand’s open wound area against the semi-severed arm. And then… it was waiting. The two pieces of the puzzle were connected, and now all Flask had to do was wait. Wait for his healing factor to kick in and connect the two severed limbs into one, and fully restore his arm. He could wait, he had waited several times before for this kind of stuff to happen, limbs having to attach to his severed body to close up wounds and ultimately healing him. Hell he just went through waiting a near entire day of silence in the sickbay just to leave so he can do this, this was nothing to him

An hour soon passed as Flask just stayed still like a statue, waiting for his arm to attach the severed hand to him and heal him. Then, the fingers of the hand twitched, and Flask was able to control it. He began to wiggle his fingers around as he let go of the hand with his teeth to reveal the giant and unintentional hickey he left on his new hand. He had one arm back, complete with the communicator and all. It was as if he never blew his hand to smithereens. And of course, he had to do the sam with his other arm and his other hand. Now with a hand, his teeth were no longer needed as he walked back over to the bag, and reached inside it. He ended up pulling out another severed hand, this time without the communicator on it. The same process took place, though this time Flask went straight to the process with the knife. He traced it along the forearm without even the spit tracker, and stopped at a certain point. It was near, if not exactly, identical to the spot where he severed his arm before. He raised the knife after, and chopped down on his arm, severing it like before as if his arm was a sausage at the butcher. He then took the arm with no communicator and only a potion bulge in the palm and slammed it together with his now once more severed arm. Another hour had passed and the hand flipped up from being limp for so long to indicate it was attached to and now one with Flask. The process was done, Flask had his hands back. All throughout it his wicked smile didn’t fade at all and the baby wyvern wasn’t disturbed. It still laid happily on his shoulder, curled up with his shoulder pad for support to lay down on. And from there, Flask only had to clean up his blood. He did so in quick succession as he closed up his bag of severed hands once more and made sure it was securely tightened so no accidents would happen the next time he had to carry it around. After that, he went to leave the labs