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Calling the shots.
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Ranger Center - Prison Infirmary [south, east]
Set in the stifling, pulsing glow of the wavering overhead fluorescent lights attached to its ceiling, the Ranger Center Infirmary has been adapted somewhat since its original introduction into the prison, as can be seen from the tell-tale signs. Flickering, static-filled monitors are strewn throughout the area, and the slumped over, monumental figure of the makeshift cloning vats loom in the background. Chalky, cracked tiles form the walls of the expanded area, and, in the center of it all rests a cold, steel operating table; the shimmering and shaking lights casting off of the dulled, blackened shades of crimson permanently etched on its surface. Over it all, the high-pitched whine
of running machinery is audible, along with the occasional consuming groan of pain from within the rows of occupied cots strewn away from the main table. The cots, apparently, are filled with the Ranger operatives or allies that have been dragged in from the hostile wastes. Seemingly completing the picture are the forms of two men, obviously in charge and supervising all that is currently being done. Not only the patients, but the technical apparatus as well.
Doc Krueger the Chief Surgeon.
Robert Aage the Pharmacist
Rylen
Rylen takes a look over the girl from last night, writing a few things down on
a white pad that he has in his hand. The machine in his hand beeps giving
the read outs of the girl's vital signs and he writes those down before
putting the pad back into his pocket, leaning backwards to stretch his
muscles.
The sound of heavy, uneven steps, clomp down the hallway, ending with
one of the double doors entering the Infirmary being pushed open. Bryan leans
in, " 'Scuse me captain, but are you busy? I seem to have.. uh.. been shot." He
chuckles softly, the sound laced with short coughs, as he plops himself against
the doorjamb, "I'd 'preciate a bit of your time."
Rylen looks up, "Holy shit, man." he shakes his head taking quick steps over to
the other officer, "You're supposed to avoid being injured sir," he tells
him with a slight smile before bending down under Bryan's left arm to help
lead him to the table, shouting orders to a NPC 'nurse '
Bryan grins sheepishly, "Oh, c'mon, you know I'm terrible at that.. 'Sides, I
couldn't let you get injured without matching you." He nods thanks to Rylen as
he aids him in moving across the room, "I'm working on a record here.." He
performs a one shouldered shrug, "Just need to get that damned slug out.. Can
feel it grinding 'gainst my shoulderblade."
Rylen nods and takes him to the table, motioning for him to lay down...he gets
the necessary impliments of his trade for bullet wounds: needle nose
pliers, lots of gauze, stims, alcohol, and thread to sew up the tissue and
skin. He places these on the table next to him and pulls on some latex
gloves, looking to Bryan, "You want me to knock you out, numb you up, or
give you a leather strap?"
Bryan lies back, pausing to consider. After a few moments, he speaks up, "I'll
take the strap.. Save the drugs fro the serious stuff." He grins lopsidely,
"Can't feel too much worse on the way out." He turns his head from side to side
against the table, "Just make it as quick as you can, and I won't hold it
against you."
Rylen looks to Bryan, "You got it, sir...got yourself more cojones than a few
of the others..I've had people with cuts who asked to be knocked out." he
laughs, opening a small tape dispenser with a leather holding device and
hands it to Bryan, "Bite down, close your eyes this will hurt." he opens a
gauze pad and grabs the pliers, "Tell me when you're ready sir."
Bryan takes the strip, settling it into the mouth. He returns his hand to it's
place by his side, before gripping down on the table's edges with both hands.
He mutters past the strip, as strongly as he can make it, "Bring it.", before
clamping his teeth down upon the leather.
Rylen nods and peers into the hole...he'd have to pull it away from the bone
and then out. That was going to hurt.. he nods to Bryan and is sure to put
some alcohol on the pliers to disinfect them, "Here we go..." he inserts
the pliers into the wound while bending down to make sure he gets a good
grip...pulling to the side once and then out, he extracts the bullet with a
squishing of tissue and blood. He puts it on the table, pushing the gauze
pad against the shoulder to help stop the blood.
With the sudden widening of his eyes, Bryan lets out a gurgled scream
past the strip. His body snaps rigidly as the pliers go in, gripping
whiteknuckled to the table edge, his legs squirming and flailing. This
continues until the pliers are removed, upon which his body relaxes somewhat.
After some time, he spits the leather out, accompanied by a ship's crew worth
of cursing. Slowly, his hands loosen their grip from the table as well, and his
legs begin to calm down
Rylen continues to hold the gauze pad there...picking up a stim and biting off
the cap. Pressing the needle into Bryan's skin, at 4 points around the
wound to inhibit blood flow, dull the pain, and inject antibodies what will
prevent infection, he looks to Bryan, "Now to sew you up after this takes
effect..."
Bryan growls softly, "You're lucky I like you.. I think I'd have punched just
about anyone else sfter that. He offers a cheap grin, before lying back again,
closing his eyes again, trying to relax, " 'least it was quick."
Rylen laughs, "Well, sir, it's not exactly over yet." he continues to hold the
gauze against his shoulder, picking up the needle and thread packet, which
is prethreaded. "Now to sew the muscle..this shouldn't hurt too much, if
you even feel it, the stim should have numbed you up pretty good." Rylen
removes the gauze and looks at the muscle...nodding he inserts the needle
into one half of the muscle while pushing the other side over and begining
to sew it together so it won't atrophy.
Bryan nods, remaining in his relaxed position, his face scrunching up at every
prick of the needle. He mutters, "S'not so bad.. I'll live, I think.. Hey, If
not, you're on the fast track to promotion." He begins to chuckle softly,
laughing to himself at his own joke.
Rylen shakes his head with a dry laugh, finishing with the muscle and cutting
the thread short so it wouldn't irritate the skin, "These will dissolve on
their own, your body will break them down after a while." Next, he picks up
another packet and opens it up, starting on the skin in the same fashion,
putting in 5 stitches on his skin. Another gauze pad is opened, wiping the
blood and debris from the area surrounding the wound, before a clean pad is
placed over the site and taped down, "We're probably going to have to put a
sling on you, sir." his own left forearm was bulging with a splint and
support under his jacket, "You can use my old one..heh"
Bryan nods, opening his eyes once more, "I doubt I'll use it for very long..
only s'long as I have to." His good shoulder slides across the table, "I'll
take your recommendation, but don't 'spect me to stretch it out." He shakes his
head, "I dislike the whole sling deal myself. But do what you need to."
Rylen nods and opens his jacket, fishing around the many pockets
inside..finding what he's looking for, an old shirt folded into a triangle
to hold the arm he hands it to Bryan, "Only wear it as long as you can't
move your arm without almost passing out from the pain, I'd give it about a
week or so."
Bryan frowns, "A week? We'll see." Twisting himself around on the table, he
sits up, allowing his legs to hang over the edge. With his good arm, he loops
the makeshift sling over his shoulder, then lifts his right arm up, placing it
in the sling's fold. He adjusts it slightly, glad to have some of the pain
numbed as he did so, before adressing Rylen, " 'Zat it then?"
Rylen nods and fishes in his pocket again, mumbling to himself as he tries to
find something. Coming up with nothing, he plops a bag down on the table
top, opening it up and finding a small red bottle of pills, "pain
killers....that and antibiotics. Trust me you'll need them, if not one then
the other." he extends the bottle out, there are about 30 pills in the
small container, "If you need more let me know..but yeah, that's about it,"
he says closing the bag.
Bryan nods, taking the bottle, "Sure." His hand slides down his pants pocket's,
and, finding an empty one, slides the bottle in, "Well, I've got a few things
to get attended to.. Certain stains removed, and the like. Thanks for the
help.. Rylen." For once, he addresses him by first name, "Catcha 'round then."
His turns and begins to exit the infirmary, moving more steadily than before.
Rylen taps his brow in a salute to Bryan, "Catch you later, sir." he says,
starting to clean up the mess that Bryan left when he came in, putting the
needles, syringes and the like away so no one gets to them, or accidnetly
sticks themselves, which seems to be a habit around here.
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