[DVFP] Routine Check-up (C 1.1, T 1.1, N 1.2)

edited October 2013 in In-Game
Chalk,

Here you are, Chalk, just like the mask told you, at Triss's infirmary, which as you might recall, is a creative endeavor:
TrissMy infirmary is cobbled together from pieces that I've scrounged in the wastes. I clean them up, get them connected and going in a fashion that approximates old hospital equipment. Sometimes that IV bag is really just a recycled plastic bag with a bit of tubing hanging from it, but it works.
Is there something wrong with you, Chalk? Is that why you're here, are you, you know, sick? What did the mask tell you to get you to come here and talk to Triss?

Triss,

Its early morning, dawn. Last night was really, really cold. How do you keep your patients from freezing in the night? Do Saga and Rane stay here, I take it? What about you? You've got a couple patients here, a kid named Shine and a tripped out guy named Slam who is going through detox, shaking and sweating.

So Chalk is here, just walked in the door. Chalk is looking at you, what were you doing when Chalk came in? You were up, why? Is that normal?

What do you do?
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Comments

  • edited October 2013
    "CHALK WAKE UP!"

    fuuuuuck no i dont wanna i dont wanna

    "CHALK WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU LAZY ASSHOLE HAHAHAHAR!"

    hurts all over just wanna sleep lemme lone

    "MAGGOT GET UP ON YER MEAT HAUNCHES NOW NOW NOW! YOU WANNA DIE STUPID?"

    Okay, okay. I drag myself to my feet. Sick feeling. Hurt. Think someone put something in my water. Canteen's empty, pick it up. Pick up the axe. Go.

    "THAT'S GOOD, CHALK, NOW GIT TO THE CHOPPA!"

    wut

    "THE HOSPITAL, DUMBASS! BWA HA HA HAAA!"

    I walk to the hospital. Three steps and I swing the axe up, jaunty across my shoulder. Six steps and I'm swaggering. Feels like I'm about explode inside, purple blotches in my vision, don't care and don't show it. I make it to Triss' place and the mask announces

    "HOLY SHITBALLS OLD CHALK IS IN A BAAAAD WAY! HO HA HAR!"

    I stand there, room tilting around me, guts awash, watching Triss through the holes in my face, waiting to see if she's going to shriek and run this time, or shoot me or what.
  • That idiot, Slam, had staggered into my clinic a few hours ago, high as a kite on something, asking for the jiggers. I gave them to him, AGAIN. One of these days he won't get up from the bed. Only so many times you can detox, then go back. I was cleaning up the puke that hadn't made it into the bin when Chalk appeared at my doorway.

    The furnace in the middle of the room was pumping out enough heat to keep us from freezing, but it was still cold. I could see his breath through the holes in his mask, his eyes burning me with their gaze. He swayed from foot to foot, his wickedly sharp axe dipping and swinging with the movement. I motioned to Saga, and he got a bed ready. Rane was sleeping - she'd have to work later while we got a cat nap after all the activity of the night.

    It was getting light outside as I walked over to Chalk. "Hey - what happened?" I ask as I lead him to the bed Saga has finished. "You look like shit." I hold out my hands for the axe, knowing better than to take it from him.
  • "Feel bad. Sick. Stomach hurts," I say in my normal voice, the quiet whispery one. The mask's words tremble behind my lips but I bite them back, bite them back hard. "Think someone... put something in my water IT WAS RIPPLE THAT MOTHAFUCKA LET'S GUT 'IM HAW-HAW-HAW shut up, shut up, shut up!"

    I half-hand, half-drop the axe. No one should see me like this. "Please help. I'll, I'll pay you back. I'll make it up to you."
  • "I know you will," I say, laying the axe on a nearby table. I make a gesture to Saga, and he brings over a slurry of charcoal. "This isn't gonna be pleasant," I say, an apologetic expression on my face. "You ready?" I've hooked up the hose to the slurry, and it's going to have to go directly into his stomach. Can't really drink that shit. "I gotta stick this down your throat."

    Saga scutters off, tending to Shine, who came in with a bad cut on his leg. It'll heal, but there will be a nasty scar. Just another story to tell on that kid. For a while I thought I was going to have to take his leg, but the stuff Rane found scrounging yesterday seems to be working.
  • The mask is ready to say something awful, spew curses or say something horrible so I don't just bite the words back, I bite my tongue. Tissue crackles like fat in a fire under my teeth, but I feel the mask flinch. I feel it flinch all the way to the back of my skull.

    "Okay," I say, and open my mouth behind my face. Blood sticks between my faces with little glick glick noises against my skin.
  • I put the tube down his throat, and then pack his stomach with charcoal. It's not pretty - it's not pleasant, but it's effective. The mask stares at me, and it's almost as if it's alive. That would probably creep some people out, but I've seen all kinds of shit. This ain't nothin'.

    Once the charcoal has had a chance to absorb any toxins, I suck it back out and hand Chalk a drink. I'm sure that shit is nasty. "Feel better?" I ask, hoping so. The alternative is whatever is bugging him isn't in his stomach. Much harder to ferret out in that case.
  • There's a moment of awkwardness as I juggle the plastic tumbler, one hand on the drink and one searching for the axe - I end up just pouring it through the hole in the mask's lips, where it spills down my chin and sluices the blood from my chin. I feel sick and sore, bu the room's not swimming around me and I don't feel like I'm going to explode inside. "I'm - I'm better, Triss. Thanks, uh, again." My eyes search Triss' face, impersonal through the holes in the mask, like a pair of security cams. "Whatever you need me to do just say."

    Now I'm wondering. Everything after sundown yesterday is a blur, a whirl of motion. I don't even remember seeing Ripple's face. I sort of turn away from Triss, not like I'm shy but like I'm talking to someone else.

    "Chalk? Chalk - what now?"
  • edited October 2013
    Norman!

    #DiceRoller(2d6)
  • Chalk,

    "Stop being such a nancy boy, Chalk! Just sit tight and wait. The Ravens are coming, she'll need you. That one girl, she'll just love that you saved her worthless life. No, not Tris, the other one!"
  • Sometimes I hate my face's pronouncements. This isn't one of them - I relax visibly, swing the fire axe up to perch insouciantly across my shoulders. There's something approaching animation in my eyes as I look around.

    "I'm gonna just hang out for a bit."
  • Triss,

    Rane comes over to whisper in your ear, loud enough to be heard by you, Chalk, "Hey Triss, think we should move your patient out to the waiting room before we release him?" So Triss, is Rane just jumpy, or does he have something against Chalk?
  • I turn to Rane, a look of scorn on my face. "Rane, dear," I say a bit too forcefully. "The patient is fine right where he is. When I'm ready to move him out, I"ll move him. Got it?" I know he means well, but his obvious dislike of Chalk rubs me the wrong way. So what if the man is a little bit different? If it weren't for me, Rane would be dead on the street, and he knows it. That night I found him he was french kissing Death itself, hoping for a better spot in the afterlife. Til I brought him back. He OWES me.

    If Chalk wants to hang around, there's probably a decent reason for it. I give him a shrug, then move on to the junkie. Rane stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, glancing from me to Chalk and back again, before stomping off in a huff towards the medicine locker.
  • Three men come in the front door of the infirmary. You both know they're Ravens in seconds, from the dark circles under their eyes, to their discolored skin, bald heads. These guys suffer from radiation sickness, and they wear it like a badge of honor. That's why nobody bothers the Ravens. They sit in their wasteland and they don't come out. Until today, at least.

    Chalk, what is the source of the radiation in Raven territory? Is it an abandoned power plant, a bomb, something else?

    They're all three dressed in worn and well-used orange jumpsuits, with radiation symbol patches sewed on in several places. One has a machete in his gnarled right hand, the one in the middle, he has a hatchet, while the last guy has a Louisville slugger baseball bat with seven nails driven halfway through. The bat is on his shoulder while he walks.

    "Where's the doc?" The guy with the bat, his name is Fence asks, but it's a snide question.

    "Yeah!" the hatchet Raven, named Click-Up, chimes in, "We're SICK! heh heh."

    The sick folk don't move. The slightly sick folk cower. Rane is going to do something stupid, Triss. You just know it. What weapon is he reaching for that's nearby?

    What do you do?
  • I remember when I was little, before the mask found me and everything got better, I went out there into Raven territory. I don't remember much - lots of yelling and hitting. I might have been with my mom, or someone else's mom, it's all a blur and the mask doesn't like to talk about it so I don't ask. But I do remember this: they took me to a hole in the ground. A metal hole in the ground, and I thought it went all the way down forever. Clanging echoes and hatches slamming and tiny flat bluish lights everywhere. In the middle was... it was, you know. A peener. A big metal peener, bigger than a building, with some letters on it and stuff. And they were doing something with it, putting people on it or in it maybe. There was a man with scabs all over his face who controlled the peener who yelled a lot. I stood in a line, on cold metal, then there was a lot of shooting and the place went dark and I got out and why do I have to think about these things anyway?!

    Fuck, I hate these people. I don't give a shit in a water-tank for Rane but no one's going to fuck with Triss. Not after she was nice to me.

    "I GOTCHER CURE RIGHT HERE, MUTHAFUKKAAAAAAS!" The axe comes off my shoulders, one-handed, like how do those little stick arms whip that thing around? Sweeping it horizontally at hip-height at Machete. "HUHUHUHUHA!"
  • Wild-ass guess that this is SbF, if I'm seizing a thing it's control over the entry point to the infirmary.

    #DiceRoller(2d6+2)
  • Chalk, Seize By Force works fine. Choose your options.
  • I think my options are limited to "Suck it up." That's a 5, even with Hard+2.
  • Posted By: MaduI think my options are limited to "Suck it up." That's a 5, even with Hard+2.
    I'm a dolt! I'll deal out the reaction tomorrow, going to Legoland right now.
  • I glance from the Ravens to Rane to Chalk, sizing up the situation. Rane reaches under one of the tables, his hands closing around the butt of a 6 shooter. I can't let him do this. It'll wind up bad and messy, and I'm short on supplies as it is. Grabbing a needle, I quickly fill it with an anesthetic. Walking up to Rane, I inject it into his neck as Chalk confronts the new comers. Rane slowly collapses onto the floor. I turn toward the Ravens, my eyes narrowing.

    "What do you need?" I ask, leaning down to pry the gun from Rane's fingertips.
  • Chalk, that guy with the machete, he friggin blocks your pretty pretty ax. It isn't easy, all la-de-dah, limp-wristed block or some Kung Fu movie slap-aside move, but he plants a foot, steps in to it and catches the ace at the of the handle, right below the ax-head and stops it from cutting his leg off. He grimace-grins at you, like he's ready for your next move, but sort of hoping you don't make it.

    Fence ask-shouts, "Are you Triss?"

    "Yeah!" Click-up chimes in, "We need a fuckin HOUSE CALL!"

    What do you do?
  • The mask thinks this is funny as fuck-all and bellows laughter, mean monotone drill-sergeant barks that clang off the walls like shell-casings. My eyes—

    You ever meet a strange dog, and it seems kind of friendly, body language sort of interested, but you look at its eyes and you know, you know that you can't say one way or another that if you stick out your hand for that dog to smell, that it won't just tear into you? Blank eyes, innocent of malice but just as innocent of goodwill.

    My eyes look at him with that strange-dog look, out through the holes in my face. I don't let go of the axe - I'm holding it frozen, right there, like a hand's breadth from his leg - and I wait for Triss to say something. Inside I'm sort of ashamed that I let the mask move in for the kill right off, here in a fucking hospital but it did warn me. Wait, girl - not Triss - going to save her life? Fuck, I don't even know what the mask is talking about. I do know that if he makes one twitch of that machete I'm taking it from him.

    I wait to see if Triss needs a violence explosion, or if she can talk this whole fucked-up situation down.
  • "Yeah, I'm Triss. Now what do you want?" I say. The gun hangs from my hand down along my leg. As a rule, I don't like guns. They blow holes in people that I typically have to patch up. I would rather save myself the work. But I know how to use them. I prefer a sawed off, even though it's usually a bigger mess to clean up. But then, when I have to use it, I don't typically hope to fix the person up after. This crew that has walked into the hospital is looking for trouble, but if they need healing, I can't be judgemental.

    "What's this about a house call?" I ask, gazing at one of them and then the other in turn. They look like they've been out in the sun too much, their insides cooking in the heat. Chapped lips and those wild eyes were giving me a bad feeling, so I'm really grateful that Chalk is here.
  • edited November 2013
    Fence looks at you, Chalk, for a long moment, making sure you are not going to cut his man in half. Then, for some reason, he seems satisfied. He turns to you, Triss, "Grim's little kid Deuce is sick. You're gonna fix 'em."

    Triss, how do you know Grimwall? How does he know you're the best doc this side of Free City?

    Chalk, why aren't the Ravens afraid of you? Why is Click-Up looking at you like maybe he knows you?
  • Click-Up? Fuuuuuuuck, this explains so much. Click-Up decided I was going to be his little friend and I didn't want to. He got pushy so I fucked him up pretty good over it, broke something in his face with my elbow, stomped on one of his hands until it was mush. My face was new to me then and told me to kill him - I tried and just couldn't. He and Ripple are like this - I wonder if he got Ripple to drug me or whatever the shit happened with my water. I bet they expected me to be sick, or maybe even dead.

    Ohh Click-Up, for your stupid sake I hope you behave. I listen so much better to the mask now. So so much better.
  • I bury my head in my hands. Grim. We used to be tight, back before he up and joined the Ravens. Lovers, in fact. Only I couldn't stomach the group he ultimately sided with, and I left. He'd gotten me out of a few rough scrapes, he'd seen me in action, healing on the battlefield. But all that was before he made his choice. I sigh. I can't just let his kid die. I can't. It's not in me, even if it means going into the heart of Raven territory. "How sick?" I ask, raising my gaze to meet his. I'm already tired, and we haven't even begun to negotiate. I really hope that Chalk will stick with me, because if I have to go in there alone, I'm not sure I'll come back out. And I want to come back. Desperately.
  • Click-Up snorts, "Just a head cold, but we're allll outta Nyquill!"

    Fence holds up a hand, "Clicks, man, ease up." He huffs a breath, "He's at the edge of our territory, he don't want you get rad sickness coming in, yeah? We gotta van a bit away, won't take long."

    What do you do?
  • He still cares. The thought warms me more than it should. It's been years since I've seen him, and he obviously was with someone else, because he has a frickin kid. Something moves in the depths of my heart, a sluggish beast trying to rear its head. I shove it back down, licking my lips as I start to throw supplies into my backpack. "How old is the child? And what, exactly, are his? Her? symptoms?" I spare a glance in Fence's direction, because of the three he seems the most level headed.
  • I would love, love to apologize to Triss but that shit is just not in the face's repertoire. "I'm gonna take this back," I say, tugging on the axe. "No more hitting." My face chimes in with a high, witchy cackle and points itself, like I fight it, the cords in my neck popping out, points itself like a turret at Click-Up. "LET'S ALLLLLLLL BE FRIENDS NOW, Y'HEAH? HUHUHUHUHU!"
  • Click-up stares at you in disbelief, Chalk. "You arrrrre one sick puppy." He's ready for you to throw down, fully expects it, really. He doesn't trust your word, Chalk. How does that feel? Are you a, well, man of your word? Does that even register on your scale?

    Fence tries to ignore Click-Up and Chalk to answer you, "He's two. He's had nose bleeds, bloody gums, too. Odd bruising, and nobody's hit him, not once. Blood in his shit this morning, that's when Grim sent us."

    These guys may not know it, maybe they do and they don't want to let on. But those are symptoms of radiation poisoning. The kid is dying, he may be too far gone already.

    What do you do?
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