Red X: Jean-Paul and Candace
May. 22nd, 2009 12:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJean-Paul acts as air-transport at the derailment site.
The chaos of the scene was not much better from the air, but at least Jean-Paul had a better sense of where he was once he was in the sky. The first rescue crew that he'd dropped off had flagged him back -- their passengers were free, but there was still no clear path to carry them out. That meant getting medics in to assess the damage to the victims before getting the rescuers out. The paramedics were much easier to spot from above.
Jean-Paul touched down and strode toward the nearest blue jacket. "Are you treating someone?" he asked sharply.
The woman ripped a green strip off of a tag that was attached to one of the patients, then straightened. "This area's clear!" she yelled back at a cluster of emergency personnel, then turned to the speedster, sizing him up quickly. There was a brief flash of something like recognition in her eyes, but it vanished quickly behind stony-faced professionalism. "Fifteen words or less--what's the situation?"
"Older female and her adult daughter. Arm with a compound fracture on the mother, daughter may be concussed." Not quite on target, but he wasn't inclined to give much of a damn. "The rescue crew has them out of the wreck, but they are still in one of the inaccessible areas. I am acting as air transport."
She nodded. "Give me a minute." Crossing quickly to an ambulance, she exchanged a quick round of words with another medic, pointing at the patient she'd just been standing over and then shouldering a large, square bag before returning. "Let's go."
Jean-Paul swept her up with only a brief, "Hold on" before they were in the air. He set her down before her patients moments later, then turned his attention to the rescue crew still there. The man was all sharp, restless movements, but he really wasn't the main concern. The two people she'd been brought to help were seated on the rocky ground. The matron's right arm hung limp at her side, the jagged edge of the humerus barely protruding from beneath the skin. Her daughter sat beside her, glassy-eyed, patting her good hand and bleeding from a small cut at her temple.
The medic went to work, crossing over to the two victims as soon as her feet hit the ground. "Hi. My name's Candace," she said to the younger woman. "I'm one of the medics. Can you tell me where you are?" She started assessing the woman, hands moving over her quickly. She was peripherally aware of the mutant flier moving the rescue crew out, but the derailment victims were a more immediate concern.
The chaos of the scene was not much better from the air, but at least Jean-Paul had a better sense of where he was once he was in the sky. The first rescue crew that he'd dropped off had flagged him back -- their passengers were free, but there was still no clear path to carry them out. That meant getting medics in to assess the damage to the victims before getting the rescuers out. The paramedics were much easier to spot from above.
Jean-Paul touched down and strode toward the nearest blue jacket. "Are you treating someone?" he asked sharply.
The woman ripped a green strip off of a tag that was attached to one of the patients, then straightened. "This area's clear!" she yelled back at a cluster of emergency personnel, then turned to the speedster, sizing him up quickly. There was a brief flash of something like recognition in her eyes, but it vanished quickly behind stony-faced professionalism. "Fifteen words or less--what's the situation?"
"Older female and her adult daughter. Arm with a compound fracture on the mother, daughter may be concussed." Not quite on target, but he wasn't inclined to give much of a damn. "The rescue crew has them out of the wreck, but they are still in one of the inaccessible areas. I am acting as air transport."
She nodded. "Give me a minute." Crossing quickly to an ambulance, she exchanged a quick round of words with another medic, pointing at the patient she'd just been standing over and then shouldering a large, square bag before returning. "Let's go."
Jean-Paul swept her up with only a brief, "Hold on" before they were in the air. He set her down before her patients moments later, then turned his attention to the rescue crew still there. The man was all sharp, restless movements, but he really wasn't the main concern. The two people she'd been brought to help were seated on the rocky ground. The matron's right arm hung limp at her side, the jagged edge of the humerus barely protruding from beneath the skin. Her daughter sat beside her, glassy-eyed, patting her good hand and bleeding from a small cut at her temple.
The medic went to work, crossing over to the two victims as soon as her feet hit the ground. "Hi. My name's Candace," she said to the younger woman. "I'm one of the medics. Can you tell me where you are?" She started assessing the woman, hands moving over her quickly. She was peripherally aware of the mutant flier moving the rescue crew out, but the derailment victims were a more immediate concern.
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