Keep The Faith Aftermath: Coming Back
Jun. 13th, 2008 10:33 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAfter getting medical attention, Forge wakes up in a not-entirely-lucid state.
Remember me, Mister Forge. Keep me immortal.
With a loud gasp, Forge opened his eyes and sat up as much as he was able before flopping back down against crisp sheets that smelled of antiseptic and sterile alcohol. Evaluate situation establish baseline of data think think think - his mind rushed to try and comprehend what was going on.
He could feel bandages on his face, and everything to the left was dark. The peculiar mix of sensations - pressure without pain, no heat or cold - painkillers, crap, Forge thought. He hated painkillers. They made thinking slow, like trying to push through mud. He needed to reach out and signal Amelia - but this wasn't the medlab, he realized. He wasn't in the mansion. This was a civilian hospital. Staffed by humans. Humans that would be completely unprepared for the devastation the Brotherhood could cause if they came looking for revenge.
Craning his neck to look at the IV shunt in his right arm, Forge tried to reach over to pull it out - but with no response whatsoever. He cranked his neck the other way, wincing at the feel of bone grinding on bone in his face. Bandages swathed his left shoulder and what was left of his upper arm, but his power told him the rest.
His eyes and brain told him that the lavender blur at the foot of his bed was a friend, though, and he allowed himself to exhale and lay back. "Clarice," he whispered quietly. "Where's my arm?"
"In my backpack," she answered honestly, one hand holding his flesh foot lightly. "I'll give it back later. It broke," that was obvious. Better he focus on the arm than anything else. "I gotta tell the doc you're awake. Anything I need to know before I do?" even doped on painkillers Clarice knew that Forge could run mental circles around most people and expected nothing less from him.
"No!" Forge insisted, pulling himself up to a sitting position, his voice slurred with the painkillers. "Clarice, this isn't the medlab, where am I? Where...?" With a grunt, he pressed his sole hand to his face, feeling the bandages. "Nimrod." The word was spoken like a judge pronouncing a death sentence, in a voice suddenly clear of the drugged haze.
"Kyle, Terry, Jan. Are they here? Clarice, we've got to get out of here," his voice was rapid and insistent. "The Brotherhood won't just give up, if they find us..."
"They won't," she said, her voice as hard as steel as she moved to push him back so he was flat in the bed, "You're safe. I'm here. And no one is changing that or I'm not Blink," in point of fact, she'd been standing guard where ever he'd been taken for tests, surgery and now in a private room. The doctors hadn't liked it, but she hadn't budged. A skinny purple guard dog. She'd gone so far as to supervise every procedure done by any hospital employee. No one was getting to Forge. No one.
"You don't get it," Forge hissed, his hand snapping onto Clarice's wrist, strong with panic. "I need to get out of here. I need to have never been here. We bloodied them, Clarice. And they're going to hit back. If they expect me here, they'll come down on this place like a meteor. I need to have never been here, can you... can you do that for me? You know where they keep records, files, all that."
She shook her head, "Trust me. Trust your teammates, we got your six. I'll get your records though. You rest. Leave the driving to me," she had given them an assumed name for him when she'd brought him in, not that she expected that to stop anyone from putting two and two together, but it did buy some time. And in some ways, the hospital offered more protection than the school did, regardless though, he wasn't in any condition to be moved yet. The Clarice-Express had been because of an emergency. Now that he was stabilized, he should stay put.
Forge nodded, then turned to the heart monitor at the side of his bed. He blinked a few times, then reached out and spun it around. With nimble fingers, he removed a panel and began unplugging and reattaching wires. "It's absolutely offensive what they call modern medicine these days," he mumbled before spinning the monitor back around and brushing his fingers over the keypad. "Here we go, electronic patient records. Easy enough to sort by ER reports... avulsion injury, left arm... oh, here I am. Level two concussion, fractured maxillary orbit... that's a cheekbone, right? Ow. Subconjunctival hemorrhage, left eye... oh good, I've still got my eye. That's a relief. Hemostatically compromised... Clarice, what's that...?"
He looked around to see that Clarice had already left the room, and smiled. "Ah, good girl. I just need to-"
A shadow moved in the room, and Forge was immediately curling away, feet tucked under himself, arm twitching to cover his face protectively. "Enough enough enough," he repeated quietly. "I need to get out of here."
"Forge," Clarice said quietly,, her hand hovering over his shoulder, but not quite touching him, "it's just the doctor. And I've got your records. We're going," well, as soon as the doctor looked him over.
"I don't think he's ready to -" the doctor began sternly, though he admired both the girls grasp of medicine and and tenacity. She'd been knowledgeable both on his idiocicracies, to which there had been quite a few, and determined to keep him safe at all costs.
"No. We're going, I'll send you a check!" Clarice promised, beginning to disconnect Forge from the machines like a pro. What had been left of his uniform had been cut and put in a biohazard bin to be incinerated and she hadn't been able to get him proper clothing. Well, a couple hospital gowns would have to do.
As soon as the IV was removed from Forge's hand, he kicked his feet over the edge of the bed, reaching to steady himself. Unfortunately, out of habit he reached with an arm no longer there, and he dropped to a knee on the tile. The doctor took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks as Forge looked up, wild-eyed, teeth bared. "You. Get. Away," he growled, holding his ribs as he rose uneasily to his feet. "It will be better for you if you never saw either of us. We were never here. This never happened."
Making an apologetic face, Clarice knelt down with Forge and instead of hauling him up only to fall again, she opened a portal directly to the medlab. Grabbing her backpack, they disappeared. She had meant it though about sending a check or something, they didn't crash a hospital ER like they did, steal their paperwork and receive major surgery without doing something in return.
Sw//immin//g head is//fog//gy -sen//sation -c//ogni//tion +p.ain Shock.
Da//dama//damage to struc.tural in+tegrity. Emer//gency aler+ dam.age system fail
External reboot Y/N? Sur.viv.al ++ Evo//lution continues. End of line.
Remember me, Mister Forge. Keep me immortal.
With a loud gasp, Forge opened his eyes and sat up as much as he was able before flopping back down against crisp sheets that smelled of antiseptic and sterile alcohol. Evaluate situation establish baseline of data think think think - his mind rushed to try and comprehend what was going on.
He could feel bandages on his face, and everything to the left was dark. The peculiar mix of sensations - pressure without pain, no heat or cold - painkillers, crap, Forge thought. He hated painkillers. They made thinking slow, like trying to push through mud. He needed to reach out and signal Amelia - but this wasn't the medlab, he realized. He wasn't in the mansion. This was a civilian hospital. Staffed by humans. Humans that would be completely unprepared for the devastation the Brotherhood could cause if they came looking for revenge.
Craning his neck to look at the IV shunt in his right arm, Forge tried to reach over to pull it out - but with no response whatsoever. He cranked his neck the other way, wincing at the feel of bone grinding on bone in his face. Bandages swathed his left shoulder and what was left of his upper arm, but his power told him the rest.
His eyes and brain told him that the lavender blur at the foot of his bed was a friend, though, and he allowed himself to exhale and lay back. "Clarice," he whispered quietly. "Where's my arm?"
"In my backpack," she answered honestly, one hand holding his flesh foot lightly. "I'll give it back later. It broke," that was obvious. Better he focus on the arm than anything else. "I gotta tell the doc you're awake. Anything I need to know before I do?" even doped on painkillers Clarice knew that Forge could run mental circles around most people and expected nothing less from him.
"No!" Forge insisted, pulling himself up to a sitting position, his voice slurred with the painkillers. "Clarice, this isn't the medlab, where am I? Where...?" With a grunt, he pressed his sole hand to his face, feeling the bandages. "Nimrod." The word was spoken like a judge pronouncing a death sentence, in a voice suddenly clear of the drugged haze.
"Kyle, Terry, Jan. Are they here? Clarice, we've got to get out of here," his voice was rapid and insistent. "The Brotherhood won't just give up, if they find us..."
"They won't," she said, her voice as hard as steel as she moved to push him back so he was flat in the bed, "You're safe. I'm here. And no one is changing that or I'm not Blink," in point of fact, she'd been standing guard where ever he'd been taken for tests, surgery and now in a private room. The doctors hadn't liked it, but she hadn't budged. A skinny purple guard dog. She'd gone so far as to supervise every procedure done by any hospital employee. No one was getting to Forge. No one.
"You don't get it," Forge hissed, his hand snapping onto Clarice's wrist, strong with panic. "I need to get out of here. I need to have never been here. We bloodied them, Clarice. And they're going to hit back. If they expect me here, they'll come down on this place like a meteor. I need to have never been here, can you... can you do that for me? You know where they keep records, files, all that."
She shook her head, "Trust me. Trust your teammates, we got your six. I'll get your records though. You rest. Leave the driving to me," she had given them an assumed name for him when she'd brought him in, not that she expected that to stop anyone from putting two and two together, but it did buy some time. And in some ways, the hospital offered more protection than the school did, regardless though, he wasn't in any condition to be moved yet. The Clarice-Express had been because of an emergency. Now that he was stabilized, he should stay put.
Forge nodded, then turned to the heart monitor at the side of his bed. He blinked a few times, then reached out and spun it around. With nimble fingers, he removed a panel and began unplugging and reattaching wires. "It's absolutely offensive what they call modern medicine these days," he mumbled before spinning the monitor back around and brushing his fingers over the keypad. "Here we go, electronic patient records. Easy enough to sort by ER reports... avulsion injury, left arm... oh, here I am. Level two concussion, fractured maxillary orbit... that's a cheekbone, right? Ow. Subconjunctival hemorrhage, left eye... oh good, I've still got my eye. That's a relief. Hemostatically compromised... Clarice, what's that...?"
He looked around to see that Clarice had already left the room, and smiled. "Ah, good girl. I just need to-"
A shadow moved in the room, and Forge was immediately curling away, feet tucked under himself, arm twitching to cover his face protectively. "Enough enough enough," he repeated quietly. "I need to get out of here."
"Forge," Clarice said quietly,, her hand hovering over his shoulder, but not quite touching him, "it's just the doctor. And I've got your records. We're going," well, as soon as the doctor looked him over.
"I don't think he's ready to -" the doctor began sternly, though he admired both the girls grasp of medicine and and tenacity. She'd been knowledgeable both on his idiocicracies, to which there had been quite a few, and determined to keep him safe at all costs.
"No. We're going, I'll send you a check!" Clarice promised, beginning to disconnect Forge from the machines like a pro. What had been left of his uniform had been cut and put in a biohazard bin to be incinerated and she hadn't been able to get him proper clothing. Well, a couple hospital gowns would have to do.
As soon as the IV was removed from Forge's hand, he kicked his feet over the edge of the bed, reaching to steady himself. Unfortunately, out of habit he reached with an arm no longer there, and he dropped to a knee on the tile. The doctor took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks as Forge looked up, wild-eyed, teeth bared. "You. Get. Away," he growled, holding his ribs as he rose uneasily to his feet. "It will be better for you if you never saw either of us. We were never here. This never happened."
Making an apologetic face, Clarice knelt down with Forge and instead of hauling him up only to fall again, she opened a portal directly to the medlab. Grabbing her backpack, they disappeared. She had meant it though about sending a check or something, they didn't crash a hospital ER like they did, steal their paperwork and receive major surgery without doing something in return.
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