crossing_lostrp | [Daniel] Day 20: Getting Back on Task (open tag)

Current Location: medical facility

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[Daniel] Day 20: Getting Back on Task (open tag)

With things more or less, back to normal, Daniel resumed the briefing minus a few additional bodies. He knew that Molly was tending to Tara, and that May and Chris had presumably gone in that direction as well. Rodney was working on finding a way to dampen down Tara and hopefully the Doctor would be able to provide assistance in that endeavor as well. Faith was assigned to Isabel duty and he trusted that Molly and Chris would be able to keep an eye on May. As helpful as the young woman and the Winchester boys had been thus far, he still wasn't ready to lower his guard completely.

"So, who wants to go back to the beach and who wants to drop in on Camp Serenity?" Daniel asked. They'd made watch rotas, decided on whom was going to take inventory of what rooms and how to reorganize. A preliminary claim to rooms had been made, although there were still some rooms free and empty, and some people were indecisive. By unspoken, but somehow mutual decision, Daniel, the Doctor, Blaise, Jon and Locke had decided that the four new arrivals – Dean, Sam, May and Isabel – would not be left alone until they were sure of them. The Doctor had implied in last night's meeting in the control room that the first three so far hadn't seemed to lie to them and seemed trustworthy, but better to err on the side of caution. Once they delved into DHARMA's computer files, they'd have more information.

"It would probably be a good idea to send the jeep to the beach, and take advantage of more … extraordinary means … to get to Serenity," Daniel added. "I'm sure that people will want some of their personal items brought back from the beach and the caves, and the jeep has cargo space."

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The first George knew of the trouble was the sudden staccato blare of an automatic weapon behind her. She spun to see what was happening. The first round hit George in the small of her back. The second caught her in the side. The third round went between her breasts.

George stumbled backward, tripped over someone and felt back against a table. She clutched at the table's edge, caught herself and stood up again.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch!" George bellowed, her voice lost in the general chaos, glancing down at the bloody ruin of another shirt. "Goddammit!"

The shooting stopped. George looked up. The shooter was down, Ripley sprawled on top of him apparently intent on choking the life from him. Others were down too. Damon and Quentin had both been hit. Several others were down as well, but by choice, mostly with guns bristling.

"Shit, George!" Blaise laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you..." Blaise started to ask. His voice trailed off and George knew he was remembering who--and what--she was. Of course she was okay.

"I'm fine," George said. "Go help somebody who needs it."

Blaise nodded agreement. He slapped something into George's hand. "I'll do that," he said. "And you can help. Hold this. I'll have my hands full."

George looked down at the first aid kit Blaise had produced. She wondered where it had come from. How very Boy Scout of him to keep it handy. But Blaise was crouching down beside Quentin to examine his wound.

OOC: Apologies for the delay!

Methos was checking the lab room for supplies when he heard a distinctive click nearby. Why was someone loading a gun? And why now? Something didn't fit.

He picked up a shiny metal tray and approached the partially open doorway, angling the tray to observe the corridor outside. His first instinct was to check the security side, looking towards the main entrance, but nothing.. through the wedged open door to the next corridor though: Boone, now with a gun and looking so undetermined about anything that Methos doubted that he was even slightly "there."

Suppressing a groan, Methos retreated back into the lab and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now. Heroics weren't his bag, baby. Self-preservation all the way - and his sword was in his room on the other side of the facility in case. Boone.. another quick look showed that Boone was already gone. Bloody hell, an armed zombie on a mission. This was likely to result in bullets and rather a lot of pain. The majority of people in this facility were apparently used to dealing with such situations, so Methos would let them - clean-up was far safer, so long as they actually disarmed Boone before he got there.

Methos closed up the first aid kits he'd been itemising, grumbling when he realised that one was the big, bulky "hazardous duty" kit that had originally been sited next to the experimental drugs fridge. At least, it had plenty of saline and dressings -

Gunshots. Screaming.

He cursed, then ran.

"Are we done yet?" Jon called out, plugging one ear against the shrill screaming.

Armed crazies were all they needed, especially when the guy's sister was still sunbathing on the beach - if they'd done whatever the fuck it was they'd done to Boone to any of the girls too. (and Rodney's out there..) The fact that Ripley - quick to stop Boone as she was - was both unconscious and bleeding some kind of acid all over the room didn't help either.

Movement by the door made Jon re-aim his weapon, then click the safety off. "Doc!"

Pierson barely acknowledged him, eyes flicking over casualties as he deposited three bags on a table. "Who knows first aid and isn't too badly hurt? I've only got two hands and House is out like a light in Boone's room."

Yeah, and Boone's going to be out like a fucking light too, if I have anything to do with it, Jon thought, jogging out from behind the counter to unzip one of the free kits. Hazmat gloves?

"Uh, are these going to be good enough to pull Ripley off him without getting sizzled like the Joker?" he asked, throwing dressings, saline, cream, bandages to whoever was yelling for them.

"Excuse me?" Pierson frowned.

Jon pointed. "Nice lady with chemical blood burning through flesh, bone, the floor? He's not screaming for the hell of it you know."

The doctor paled a little, then grabbed the gauntlets and pulled them on. "Get anyone with burns out of any affected clothing and into the showers."

"And you're going to..?" Jon asked, squirting a tube of saline over Aiden's burns, wincing when she did. "Sorry."

"Get her off him and, uh," Pierson looked towards the edge of the room. "Use an upturned table to stretcher Ripley elsewhere before she burns a hole in it. You can get laughing boy to the showers, providing of course that anyone ever wants to speak to him again."

"Right, and those gloves are going to last longer than the concrete? I don't think so, and you're going to be useless to us if you can't use your hands. People have bullet wounds - let someone else do it."

"All right, all right," the doctor hissed, beckoning for two assistants. He carried on with the first part of his plan though, turning a table upside down and rolling the unconscious hybrid onto it as soon as volunteers presented themselves. The gloves both puckered and smoked where Ripley's blood touched them, causing Pierson to wince but not cry out as small holes appeared, and soon she was on the makeshift table. "Just get her clear, and don't touch." To Jon: "Are you still here? Get Boone to the showers!"

"Keep your head on," the teenager muttered, wondering why Pierson's expression flickered to dangerous and back again in a flash.. and why the gloves were still on. No matter, he decided, tying Boone's wrists with as much bandage as he dared - got to leave some for the others.

He shook Aiden's shoulder on the way to grabbing Boone's ankles - the guy might have passed out, but he was still dangerous. "C'mon, let's get that washed off. You can even help me strip the psycho."

OOC: Presumably Ripley will heal ok by herself purplerhino? No one else should have to touch her, if so. Methos won't take the gloves off until he's sure that his hands have healed, but a couple of people might notice the odd blue flash. If anyone wanted to grab Boone's upper body or tag along for security purposes, group showering etc that's fine *cackle*

After shoving Rose to the floor the Doctor had moved to a crouch, grabbing a chair to try to throw at or knock out whoever was doing the shooting. But Ripley jumped past him.

The Doctor had felt a stinging burn at the edge of his right ear as Ripley tackled Boon. He wasn't sure if it had been a bullet or Ripley's blood, but the reflexive action of touching the injury proved his fingers didn't burn. Bullet then, and it would most likely have missed totally had his ears been any smaller.

But Ripley was throttling a screaming Boone now. His eyes had been empty. He had touched and assessed the state of the boy's mind himself, earlier. Shock, trauma, withdrawl. Definately not in any shape to be find a gun and start shooting.

Kenzaki was trying to stop Ripley from killing Boone now, and she was not acting on her human side.

Ripley was an empath, not a telepath. But he might be able to use that connection. It'd hurt for both of them, though.

*Let go.* Oh yeah, acid across his mental pathways. Worse than human telepaths. *Ripley, let him go. He's down. You stopped him.* He used the same 'tone' he's used in battle, commanding troops and Tardis' alike.

Ripley slumped, Pierson arrive and managed to get her off Boone. She was hit, and bleeding, and he felt... helpless. His own gadgets would be destroyed by her blood. He didn't know anything about xenomorph healing. One simply didn't have the luxury of studying a species intent on killing or seeding anything it came across.

"Jon, Baking soda, kitchen. Neutralizes the acid. Messy foam, but can be washed with water." He spotted Rose getting up. "Rose, go with. Avoid any blood on the floor, specially smoking. Bring as much Baking soda as you can and give it to whoever's going with Ripley. Sprinkle it on the floor where she's bled. Tell them to put it on her wounds."

Now on to something else he could do. Damon was down, and Pierson was already at Quinten. Scott's hand was glowing blue. He was tending his own injury. Right, Damon first, then check Scott. George was up and moving, despite her injuries. Handy ability, that.

The Doctor crouched over Damon and checked his shoulder. He lifted him up to check the exit wound. Clean exit, but biggar than the entrance. Oh boy.

Scott had nearly finished stopping the bleeding from the gunshot wound in his side when he started dreaming. It shouldn't have been happening. He was awake and emotionless, yet he saw a young Molly riding a motorcycle/horse being pursued by Ringwraiths... in a marble hall speaking to an unearthly gorgeous fey... being consoled by a unicorn...

"What the fuck?!" Scott gasped when he snapped back to reality. His side burned with pain, Ami screamed in his head, and a tempest of emotion surrounded him. Slapping his shield back up, Scott winced into a sitting position and craned his neck to look at Ami. She tossed and turned on the mattress but seemed physically unharmed. Mentally, though...

Walling off the pain from his side calmed Ami considerably. Since he wouldn't be able to maintain that while tending to the others he narrowed their link to a trickle. After sending Ami a pulse of love and reassurance, Scott turned his attention to the chaotic, bloody scene around him. (So much blood!) It helped him ignore the pain.

The Doctor knelt beside Damon, who seemed to be unconscious. Although Damon's shoulder wound wasn't life-threatening, he was losing a lot of blood.

Scott crawled over to the pair. The Doctor's ear was bleeding; a truly trivial wound in this context. He pushed the Doctor's hands aside and concentrated on Damon's shoulder. The bullet had passed clean through, thankfully. Healing the ruptured blood vessels took about 30 seconds. After he'd finished he met the Doctor's icy blue eyes. "I stopped the bleeding. Who's next?"

[OOC: It's not as good as the original, and doesn't *exactly* fit the flow of the scene, but ... meh ... *shrugs*]

The world ablaze with lights and sound. The world was a cacophony of noise and pain and fear and sorrow, awash with red.

The world was on fire and it hurt.

Retreat within was no longer possible, thousands of pin pricks of pain banged up against Ami's awareness. Thoughts and emotions rolled together to become one, several, many and none, all melted and blended together then broke apart again.

Something was wrong.

/Scott! Megabyte! Help me!/ Ami battled against the darkness, struggled to pull herself from the depths. She had to wake up. She had to get away from the danger, the noise, the pain.

She struggled for her anchor, grasping for it with all that she had in her . . .Scott felt wrong. Cold, distant, empty. Then, winking out and barely there.

Ami bolted upright, fear breaking through sleep like a hammer shattering glass. For a moment, her mind could make nothing of the chaos around her, and she worked desperately to pull all the pieces and bits back together. Scott wasn't there, he wasn't within reach.

Nothing made sense.

Ami screamed his name. Again and again and again, the screams growing louder and more panicked by with each reiteration, her heart racing, her breath growing more ragged until she began gasping for each and every breath.

The screaming shattered Isabel's stunned state of mind, and she quickly saw a young black girl had sat up and was screaming over and over, "Scott! Scott! Scott!" The sound was heart-rending, tearing at Isabel's soul until she was convinced the girl had powers. It was getting inside her head, pushing deeper into her brain with each repetition.

She clutched the sides of her head, grimacing against it, summoning every bit of strength she had to keep the screaming out of her mind. It helped, a little, but it was like trying to hold back a flood. She couldn't stay where she was; she'd have to push back.

With a grunt of effort she pushed at the girl's mind, battering through the telepathic storm which surrounded it, seeking the core where she could dreamwalk and maybe get the girl to calm down.

Almost there, Isabel's mind rebounded off the girl's barriers. She opened her eyes with a gasp and staggered backwards, almost tripping over a chair before she managed to sit in it, breathing fast, heart pounding. She'd never encountered a mind like that before. Not even remotely like that.

"Who's next?" Scott asked. The Doctor opened his mouth to reply when Ami jolted awake into a full-fledged panic. Scott shuddered from the force of it, barely noticing her cries. After bracing himself for her turmoil he threw their link wide open. /Ami, I'm here! I'm coming. Just hold on. Breathe./

Although Scott felt Ami recoil from the stabbing pain in his side, she calmed somewhat. "Doctor, come get me if someone's on death's doorstep. Otherwise I need to calm Ami down. Between her and this--" he nodded at his bloody left hand holding his side "--I can hardly think straight."

Without waiting for a reply Scott hauled himself to his feet and limped over to Ami. He couldn't tell if she actually saw him. Nevertheless, she threw her arms around him when he dropped down beside her. Scott clenched his teeth to hold in a groan as fresh blood oozed from the gunshot wound.

Scott was here. Scott was back. Everything was all right. Scott was here. Scott was back. Everything was all right. Ami repeated the sentences over and over in her head like a mantra. She was still having trouble focusing and something had tried to get into her head, and she just wanted to open her eyes and have the past week and a half all be a severely bad dream.

But she knew that wouldn't happen. So, she clung to Scott, desperately, hiding in his presence and his love while a part of her berated her for her weakness. She was stronger this, she was supposed to be stronger than this, bigger than this. She was supposed to be able to hold it together and here she was falling apart.

Ami told herself to let him go, to stop drowning him in her neediness, but the desperate, scared little girl part of her simply wouldn't respond, and instead clung more tightly.

Pain flared and ricocheted across their link and Ami focused externally for the first time in hours. Really and truly focused. She pulled back, seeking the source of Scott's pain with her eyes and her hands, gasped and recoiled when she found it. He was hurt, he was suffering and she was taking everything.

Ami disentangled herself and shuffled away, wrapping her arms around her legs. "Take care of yourself. I'll be all right."

Ami scrambling away from him was the last thing Scott had expected. He caught one of her hands in his, grateful that she was on his uninjured side. "Ami, stop. Come here." Ami shook her head as she hugged her knees. Guilt radiated from her.

Scott's temper flared momentarily. He was feeling lightheaded; he didn't have time for this. /Come here and help me heal myself./

Ami looked at him, really seeing him, albeit wary and confused. /But I--/

/You can help by concentrating on what I'm doing,/ Scott explained as he connected with his sphere. The blood partially covering it dimmed its pale light. He sighed from the sphere's cool serenity. Ami calmed a bit more as well. She shifted to sit beside him, clutching his hand like a lifeline. Her whirling thoughts slowed enough so that Scott could concentrate on the tissues torn by the bullet.

Repairing the damage took a few minutes. Near the end Scott suspected that Ami actually was helping, but that was something he'd reflect on later.

Once his internal injuries were fully healed and tender, pink scar tissue covered the entrance and exit wounds Scott dropped the connection with his sphere. He was tired but no longer lightheaded or in (much) pain. "Thank you," he told his wife, kissing her forehead. "I need to see to Damon, Quentin, and anyone else injured. Stay here and rest, okay?"

The rational part of Ami agreed with Scott's words. He could help and his help was needed. People she cared about were hurt, and Scott had to help. It was the irrational part wanted to throw her arms around him, cling to him and never let him go. It took a few moments for her to push back the irrational part and nod.

"I will," Ami nodded. "You go."

Scott frowned, and cupped her cheek in his hand. Ami closed her eyes and leaned into that touch, drinking in everything about it. It was foolishness, but she couldn't help herself. The phantom fear of abandonment and loneliness simply wouldn't go away.

"I'm not going far," Scott promised quietly. "I'm not going to leave you."

Opening her eyes, Ami turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. She held onto his hand for a moment longer before releasing him. "I know."

(Strong. I have to be strong. I can do this. I won't let them win.)

"Go on, then," Ami told him, "I'm -" She couldn't lie, not to him, and I'm okay wasn't believeable right now anyway. "I'm going to lie down and rest."

"Daniel, shut up," Megabyte's voice rang out from across the room. She was tempted to ask what was going on, anything to distract herself, but realized that she was far more drained than she thought. Now that the crises had passed -- whatever percipitated it -- she really did want to rest a bit.

"Go on," Ami repeated, lying back on the mattress. "You're needed. I'll be resting right here."

(He'll come back, they won't take me away from him again.) Ami reached for the covers, repeating the new mantra in her head.

Scott went this way (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/96983.html?thread=3227095#t3227095).

Not surprisingly, it was over as quickly as it started. Ripley had Brain Pulp Boy nearly pummeled into pulp, and (Holy shit! Her blood's fucking acid!)

(Note to self, watch it if you spar with Ripley.)

The noticing of Ripley's blood brought Faith back from her singular stunned moment and she slid forward, scooping up Brain Pulp's discarded gun. The stinging, burning sensation was getting worse.

Looking down, Faith saw that her shirt, covered in a literal splatter of 'blood' was dissolving.

"Really starting to think that maybe I just shouldn't get dressed," Faith muttered, quickly ripping the shirt away from her body. She tossed the damaged bunched up scrub top onto a spot that was particularly heavy in Ripley's acidic blood, not knowing if it would help, but figuring that it certainly wouldn't hurt.

With a sweep forward, she grabbed up the Brain Pulp's discarded gun, ejected the ammo, and swore when she tried to tuck the gun neatly into the waistline of scrubs.

"Additional note to self, get some real clothes," Faith grumbled. Her skin was turning red in spots and blistering a bit; Slayer healing would take care of it, and she didn't have time to worry about the hurt. There were people down, and people hurt worse than she was.

Plus, you know, Acidic Blood.

"I'll help move Ripley," Faith announced, stepping up to the makeshift gurney. "Not real worried about the acid content." She handed the gun to Jon, "Find something to do with this, will ya?"

[OOC: Yes, Faith is topless (again). And braless. And, of course, not caring.]

(Ironic that all of that paintball taught me to hit the ground when shots are fired,) Locke mused as he surveyed the scene. He sheathed his hunting knife as he hurried to help Dr. Pierson. It had been less than helpful against a psychotic? brainwashed? Boone. (Poor kid.)

Locke joined Jon and Aiden, being careful to dodge Ripley's acidic blood. The three of them and a few others hauled Boone and Ripley to the showers.

If there's something more useless than Dr. Rodney McKay in a firefight and cleanup aftermath, it hasn't yet been discovered. As a result, he stood there, staring at the mess... the shouts, the screams, the blood.

'Acid. Baking soda. Base. High school chemistry.' At least McKay could help with that, though he was trying to ignore all the blood, the pain... and trying not to pass out with the emotion. Forget the psychics, he could feel it all; in a blaze of empathy with those around him, he wondered quickly what they must be going through. That, however, taken care of, he followed Locke now, a useless body in the aftermath of the fray.

He headed towards where the Doctor was now with a lack of being told to do aught else, following his instruction as per the baking soda. Take care of some of this... acid? Well, that's a turn off...

Rose came out of the kitchen with two boxes of baking soda. She handed one to Rodney as soon as she spotted him.

"You prolly know what to do." She managed a weak smile. "Bet you have some basic first aid training too."

She had wanted to go to Ami as her friend started screaming, but she had a job assigned her. Now, however, Ami was looking better.

Rose paused before heading for the door. She really didn't know what to say. It wasn't 'okay' and everything might not be alright.

She crouched and took Ami's hand. "Hang in there. We got through the last ten days, we'll get through this. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She had to move away thoug, and she started sprinkling baking soda on the steaming red patches eating into the concreate. She followed the trail to the showers.

Oh... She hadn't asked. If Ripley's blood was acidic, what would putting the baking soda on her do? Could it poinson her or something?

But she trusted the Doctor to know what he was doing.

"Ya, sure.. another one for my collection," Jon replied as Faith handed him the weapon. All good though, since no-one had a clue what Boone would be like when he woke up.

They got Boone into the showers and turned the tap on full, Locke drawing his knife to slice clothes clean off the kid's body. Jon threw them straight into the waste chute (waste chute?)before taking a look around, trying to figure out who to share with. "Hey Locke, you want this?"

The older man's head lifted, covered in droplets like he was the one getting a soaking, then turned to one side as Daniel called his name outside. "We'll see in a moment."

Soon he came back with news of the search for Claire, which was pretty worrying - but then so was psycho rich kid here. Jon turned to the police officer, whom he didn't know well at all but figured should be able to handle a firearm safely. Whether or not she'd take being offered a gun by an underage kid who acted like he was doing her a favor was another matter, but he really didn't have the patience to wonder.

"Aiden, then?"

OOC: I'm lost again. Which gun is he handing to her?

IC:"Yeah, you're Jon right?" Aiden wasn't about to turn down a gun whoever handed it to her.

She crouched on the floor of the shower sitting behind Boone to prop him up. She cupped her hand under the water and tried to help wash Boone off with it.

Eventually she held her own injured arm under the spray and was relieved when the burning from the acid stopped.

It's the gun that Faith handed him here (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/96983.html?thread=3217879#t3217879), though if it's Boone's gun I think it must have multiple personality disorder by now!

I'm just going with the idea that it deserves to be shared, because Jon's already got one *thinks* Aiden does too, doesn't she? Um.. was that Boone's as well? They could mystically merge in an off-screen kind of way so that we only have one "Boone's gun" left *lol*

Btw, would you like Jon to reply here *points up* or here (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/96983.html?thread=3226327#t3226327)?

Apperantly, Boone's gun does get around. Aid had grabbed it and took it apart too. And no this is the only gun Aiden's got her hands on. She'll want to process it as evidence then hold on to it. lol magical merging, sounds like a good idea to me

You can have Jon respond to which ever post you want.

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[Daniel] Day 20: Getting Back on Task (open tag)

[George] Sitting Ducks (tag Quentin, open)

[Methos] Late arrival (tag open)

[Jon] Medical response (tag first aiders, Aiden, open)

[Doctor] Medical response (tag open)

[Scott] Medical response (tag the Doctor, open)

[Ami] Rude Awakening (tag Scott, open)

[Isabel] Somebody get some earplugs (tag Ami, open)

[Scott] The downside of a psychic link (tag Ami, open)

[Ami] The downside of a psychic link (tag Scott, open)

[Scott] The downside of a psychic link (tag Ami, open)

[Ami] All Better Now (tag Scott, open)

Redirect

[Faith] A Helping Hand (tag Jon, first aiders, open)

[Locke] Playing medic (open tag)

[McKay] Playing cleanup? (open tag)

[Rose] Playing cleanup? (McKay, Ami, Shower crew, open tag)

[Jon] A Helping Hand (tag Aiden, open)

Re: [Aiden] A Helping Hand (tag Jon, open)

OOC

Re: OOC