Ultraman: It turns out this is the easy mode.

Sextant is hospitalized again, now suffering from multiple comminuted fractures.

In the white ward, Sextant was strapped to a specially made bed, his entire body encased in plaster casts, lying there straight like a white stick. Only his swollen, purple face could still move. The doctor said that of his 206 bones, 185 were broken, and the rest were fractured; his survival was nothing short of a medical miracle.

Even so, SEELE still intends to encourage him to give it his all.

The communicator crackled with Kiro Lorenz's nauseatingly hoarse voice: "Gendou, I know you're not doing well right now, but things at NERV can't be delayed. That acting commander, Choi Myung, is too comfortable in his position. You must go back and take control as soon as possible. Even if you're in a wheelchair, even if you're on crutches, you have to be at headquarters. The Human Instrumentality Project cannot be handed over to that outsider."

Sextant immediately started cursing.

He stared intently at the communicator screen with his one remaining eye, his cracked lips trembling as he forced out a series of guttural roars: "Kiru! You old bastard! My whole body is riddled with comminuted fractures! Comminuted! Do you even know what that means?! I can't even breathe properly! You want me to try?! Try my ass! Why don't you try it yourself! Why don't you smash your whole body together and go to the meeting in a wheelchair! Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!"

He roared so hard that it aggravated the fractures in his ribs, causing him to grimace and gasp for breath in pain. Tears and snot streamed down his face, making his already swollen face even more grotesque.

“…I understand your pain,” Kiro Lorenz’s voice remained slow and deliberate, carrying a calmness that made one want to kill, “but the organization needs you. Even if you have to crawl, you have to crawl back to NERV. Unless you want to watch Trevor destroy everything.”

"Crawl?! I'll crawl your ancestors for eighteen generations!!!" Sextant howled with all his might, his voice as shrill as a pig being slaughtered. "I need eight people to help me even to turn over! You want me to crawl?! I'm not doing this anymore! Let whoever wants this damn commander take the job! I'm retiring! I'm going home to recover! You bunch of crazy people from SEELE! Bastards! You sons of bitches!!!"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the communicator, then came Kiro Lorenz's even colder laughter: "Gendou, you have no choice. Either go back, or... we'll 'treat' you and then send you back. Which do you choose?"

Sextant, lying in its plaster cast, heard these words, closed its eyes in despair, and tears slid down its cheeks, seeping into its bandages.

"What the hell have I done...?"

However, just as Sextant was in pain, the door to the ward opened.

The door was pushed open a crack, and a brown dog's head peeked in, its ears drooping, its eyes fierce, and a malicious smile playing on its lips. Next came Tom's gray cat, which crept in stealthily, its tail held high, its eyes gleaming with mischief. Finally, there was Jerry, the little brown mouse, who perched on Tom's head, its tiny paws folded to its chest, its whiskers twitching.

Then he saw the guys he least wanted to see!

Spike, Tom, and Jerry.

Sextant's eyes widened instantly, his swollen, purplish face turned deathly pale, and the plaster cast covering his body began to tremble and crackle. What were these three plague gods doing here?! Shouldn't they be chasing each other in some cartoon?! Why were they in his hospital room?!

The dog, the cat, and the mouse seem to be saying: Hey! Did you miss us?
Spike grinned, revealing gleaming white fangs, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and creating a small puddle on the ground. Tom licked his paws, his eyes scanning Sextant's plaster cast as if assessing where to strike. Jerry jumped on Tom's head, pointing his little paw at Sextant and squeaking, his expression saying, "Found him, found him, this poor bastard!"

Sextant knew that these bastards were going to mess with him again.

He wanted to shout, to call for a nurse, to press the alarm button, but with his body riddled with fractures, he couldn't move a single finger and could only watch helplessly as the three guys slowly approached. Spike walked to the bedside, lowered his head, and his warm breath brushed against Sextant's face, carrying a stench of dog food and saliva. Tom jumped onto the foot of the bed, his paws lightly tapping the plaster cast, making a thumping sound, like drumming. Jerry climbed up the sheet to Sextant's chest, standing between the bandages and plaster, looking down at him with a mocking glint in his small eyes.

"No...no..." Sextant's voice trembled as if he were being shaken, "Don't come any closer...I beg you...I've already suffered enough..." These three weren't about to indulge him, so...
Spike was the first to act. The burly bulldog grinned, revealing its gleaming white fangs, its two front paws resting on the edge of the hospital bed, its hind legs slightly bent, assuming a standard ready stance. It grinned at Sextans' swollen, purple face, its tail wagging merrily behind it, then raised one hind leg, aiming at Sextans' head, the only part of its head protruding from the cast.

"No, no!" Sextant's voice changed tone, becoming shrill like a little girl whose tail had been stepped on. "Please! I just washed up!!!"

A stream of warm water descended from the sky, precisely drenching Sextant's face, flowing down his nose, mouth, and eyes, carrying the distinctive stench of dog urine. Sextant wanted to shut up, wanted to turn his head, but with his body riddled with fractures, he couldn't even manage this basic defense. He could only watch helplessly as he tasted this scalding "drink," gurgling and coughing sounds escaping his throat.

The nurses outside the room all pretended not to see anything.

Two nurses stood calmly watching everything unfold in the ward through the glass window of the duty room, coffee cups in hand. One of them even took out her phone, adjusted the angle, and started recording.

"Should we go in and stop them?" the young nurse asked.

"Stop what?" The older nurse took a sip of coffee, her face expressionless. "Didn't you see? That's normal medical waste disposal."

But... he was screaming in agony.

"You must have misheard. That's the sound of the ventilation ducts." The older nurse closed the blinds. "Never mind it, just enjoy your lunch break."

after all
Sextant survived being slammed to the ground by a monster's tail; this thing is clearly not human.
The nurses had already reached a consensus. A normal person whipped by Gomora's tail like that would have been turned into mincemeat long ago, yet this creature could still lie in a hospital bed cursing, howling with great vigor, and even poke its head out of the ground to breathe. This creature had transcended the realm of humanity; it was more like some kind of unkillable cockroach or an alien monster. Since it was a monster, let the three even stranger-looking creatures deal with it. They weren't exactly decent creatures anyway; let them fight amongst themselves, and the nurses were happy to keep quiet.

Tom and Jerry were also busy in the ward.

Tom jumped up from the foot of the bed, gently tapping the plaster cast on Sextant's leg with his paws, making a thumping sound, as if testing the sound. After finding a satisfactory position, he raised his hind leg, pressed the pads of his paws against Sextant's foot, and then stuck out his tongue and began to frantically lick the one toe that was sticking out of the cast.

"Hahahaha! Stop! Stop! It itches! It itches so much!!!" Sextant laughed and cried, his whole body convulsing, but any movement caused excruciating pain from his fractures, forcing him to writhe on the hospital bed like a maggot. "Stop licking! I beg you! Those are my feet! Not mice! Jerry! Jerry, save me! No! Jerry, get away from me too! Aaaaaaah!!!"

Jerry, of course, didn't save him. The little mouse climbed up Sextant's chest to his face, stood on his dog-pee-soaked nose, patted his cheek with its little paws, then made a face and turned to face Sextant's nostrils with its rear end.

"No, no! I have respiratory problems, I have asthma!!!"

A plume of green smoke billowed from beneath Jerry's tail, precisely filling Sextant's nostrils. Sextant's eyes widened instantly, his face turning from purple to deathly pale, then to bluish-green, and he began to convulse violently, emitting a choking, gasping sound.

"Help! Help me! I..."

Spike lowered his hind leg with satisfaction. Tom finished licking his toes and began gnawing on the edge of the plaster cast. Jerry, sitting on Sextant's forehead, crossed his legs and looked at the "former commander" who was being tortured to the point of wishing he were dead, revealing a smug smile.

The nurses outside the window finished their coffee, stretched contentedly, and prepared for their next round of rounds—after the three "visitors" had left, of course. (End of Chapter)