Case File: Feel the Rush - Log 4
Nov. 1st, 2024 10:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAfter being assigned an undercover job at Silver, Sam witnesses another overdose.
"Can I see some ID please?" Sam asked, leaning across the bar to be heard.
It was busy, Fridays were always busy, and the mutant on the other side of the bar made no move to try and dig through their bag. “They check those at the door yknow.”
"Did I stutter?" Sam asked, smiling politely even as his tone left no room for question. "Folks've been gettin' real messed up in the district lately and I don't like to leave anythin' to chance."
Something was mumbled under their breath as they pulled out their license and flashed it at Sam. “There. Can I get a double jägerbomb?”
"Comin' right u-" Sam started, only to cut himself off as a customer he'd served not ten minutes prior collapsed on the floor. "Fuck."
Sam jumped over the bar, using his powers to propel him just a little as he cleared people away from the collapsed patron, pulling a canister of narcan out of his pocket. "Someone call 911!"
The man was still awake, but his eyes were unresponsive. A long tail twitched underneath him as claws flexed into the concrete of the club floor. He leaned slightly to the side as he vomited, spewing in labored breaths.
Carefully Sam rolled the man gently so that he was on his side, with his head propped gently on Sam's legs. "Hey, hey there pal- it's alright, I've got ya. Someone's callin' an ambulance...."
He took a steadying breath and then readied the nose spray canister, he pressed the plunger administering the spray and then threw the canister aside, keeping his eyes peeled for the paramedics.
The feral vomited again, blood beginning to seep from his hands at how intense he was unsheathing his claws. Breathing shuddering, lips tinged blue, a low sound could be heard emanating from his chest.
A circle of bystanders had formed around the two. At least a few seemed to be on the phone, and the noise of sirens approached over the thrum of the music.
"Medics're almost here." Sam said softly, brushing hair out of the man's face. "You'll be fine- don't make me hafta do chest compressions on ya now, you can hold on just a minute longer till help gets here....I know ya can...."
Shallow lungfuls steadied into something deeper. A good sign. Cat-eye pupils dilated, taking in surroundings. The mutant seemed much more conscious than a minute ago. He moved his mouth to speak, but a slurred sound came out instead.
"Ain't no use in talkin' right now." Sam said softly. "Just focus on breathin', in fer three, out fer three-" He looked up as the paramedics rushed into the club. "Alright- hey. They're comin' bud, yer gonna be just fine....it'll prolly hurt like a motherfucker for a while though...."
Like a great sea the throng of crowd parted, and in moments there were paramedics swarming. Asking questions, taking over Sam’s efforts, bringing in a stretcher. The music stopped and some of the main lights came on, patrons beginning to file out, grumbling about a night interrupted.
Sam did his best to fill the paramedics in on what he knew, that he'd used the nasal spray kind of narcan, what the man had had to drink that night, and anything else he was asked. He sighed- this was going to be a whole fucking thing back at the office- they'd have to find the man's hospital room to try to talk to him.... Sam would have to pick up flowers for that, it was the right thing to do.
As he was being wheeled out the mutant spared a dazed look for Sam. Just as soon as it arrived, the emergency services were gone, leaving behind a handful of cops.
Sam sighed, pressing his face into an open palm as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Q. Why did every fucking thing these days seem to result in more paperwork on his desk?
"Can I see some ID please?" Sam asked, leaning across the bar to be heard.
It was busy, Fridays were always busy, and the mutant on the other side of the bar made no move to try and dig through their bag. “They check those at the door yknow.”
"Did I stutter?" Sam asked, smiling politely even as his tone left no room for question. "Folks've been gettin' real messed up in the district lately and I don't like to leave anythin' to chance."
Something was mumbled under their breath as they pulled out their license and flashed it at Sam. “There. Can I get a double jägerbomb?”
"Comin' right u-" Sam started, only to cut himself off as a customer he'd served not ten minutes prior collapsed on the floor. "Fuck."
Sam jumped over the bar, using his powers to propel him just a little as he cleared people away from the collapsed patron, pulling a canister of narcan out of his pocket. "Someone call 911!"
The man was still awake, but his eyes were unresponsive. A long tail twitched underneath him as claws flexed into the concrete of the club floor. He leaned slightly to the side as he vomited, spewing in labored breaths.
Carefully Sam rolled the man gently so that he was on his side, with his head propped gently on Sam's legs. "Hey, hey there pal- it's alright, I've got ya. Someone's callin' an ambulance...."
He took a steadying breath and then readied the nose spray canister, he pressed the plunger administering the spray and then threw the canister aside, keeping his eyes peeled for the paramedics.
The feral vomited again, blood beginning to seep from his hands at how intense he was unsheathing his claws. Breathing shuddering, lips tinged blue, a low sound could be heard emanating from his chest.
A circle of bystanders had formed around the two. At least a few seemed to be on the phone, and the noise of sirens approached over the thrum of the music.
"Medics're almost here." Sam said softly, brushing hair out of the man's face. "You'll be fine- don't make me hafta do chest compressions on ya now, you can hold on just a minute longer till help gets here....I know ya can...."
Shallow lungfuls steadied into something deeper. A good sign. Cat-eye pupils dilated, taking in surroundings. The mutant seemed much more conscious than a minute ago. He moved his mouth to speak, but a slurred sound came out instead.
"Ain't no use in talkin' right now." Sam said softly. "Just focus on breathin', in fer three, out fer three-" He looked up as the paramedics rushed into the club. "Alright- hey. They're comin' bud, yer gonna be just fine....it'll prolly hurt like a motherfucker for a while though...."
Like a great sea the throng of crowd parted, and in moments there were paramedics swarming. Asking questions, taking over Sam’s efforts, bringing in a stretcher. The music stopped and some of the main lights came on, patrons beginning to file out, grumbling about a night interrupted.
Sam did his best to fill the paramedics in on what he knew, that he'd used the nasal spray kind of narcan, what the man had had to drink that night, and anything else he was asked. He sighed- this was going to be a whole fucking thing back at the office- they'd have to find the man's hospital room to try to talk to him.... Sam would have to pick up flowers for that, it was the right thing to do.
As he was being wheeled out the mutant spared a dazed look for Sam. Just as soon as it arrived, the emergency services were gone, leaving behind a handful of cops.
Sam sighed, pressing his face into an open palm as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Q. Why did every fucking thing these days seem to result in more paperwork on his desk?
