A touch of static begins the taping, followed by the sounds of echoed footsteps as the microphones adjust to the roomâs ambient noise. A voice carries over the air, calculated and neutral in affect.
Dr. Copplan: "Clinical Trial, Unnamed, designated âLot Twelveâ. Center for Pathogen Research. Mia Copplan MD, presiding. Quai Mason, observing. Subject is one 'Daniel Rimeo', age thirty six, date of birth twelve eight. The date is eleven thirty, the time is thirteen twenty two. Sub-"
Mr. Rimeo: "Thirty!? It's the-.. How lo- I've been here three days!?"
The sound of footsteps echoed, and it was evident the doctor had shifted position in the room to be more centralized.
Dr. Copplan: "Yes, Mr. Rimeo. You've been here for three days and six hours. Now hold still.."
The sound of fists impacting to metal were heard echoing loudly on the recording. Several rapid, firm bangs.
Mr. Rimeo:Â "Hold still, my ass! I have fucking rights, you freak! I want a lawyer! I want to talk to the guard captain! Fuck you, if you think you can do this, I'll have your ass served to me on a big 'sorry' plate! You fucking screwed it now, you idiot!"
The manâs rant was met with silence. Absolute silence. Enough that were it not for his occasional deep breathing, one might assume the recording had stopped. After several dead moments, the man took a heavy breath and screamed.
Mr. Rimeo: "Help!â
He was at his vocal limits, echoing the room.
Mr. Rimeo: âHelp! Help! I'm in this room! Someone, help! Get the guard!"
After the screaming subsided, the Doctorâs voice filled the space in her ever calm tone.
Dr. Copplan: "Anger and fear, two useful survival responses. The agitation of the subject could prove a factor in the trial. We'll need to factor in that he is likely already experiencing an adrenal dump and full sympathetic response."
Ms. Mason:Â âIt could potentially massively increase strain on the heart, seeing as this was developed for someone far larger than him.â
A few moments of silence before the Doctorâs voice again lifted, this time seeming to address the man.
Dr. Copplan: "Mr. Rimeo. Before we begin, do you have any allergies?"
Mr. Rimeo: "W-.. fuck-"
Dr. Copplan: "NKDA. And medications you take regularly?"
A pause of silence.
Dr. Copplan:Â "Excellent. No medications. A healthy man, you are. Now, anything you wish to state for the record, sir?"
Mr. Rimeo: "The..record? I just want to go home.. whoever you are. Please, I'm sorry whatever you think I did.. or I did.. I'm sorry for all of it. I'll be a better husband. I was stupid.. give me a chance to get her forgiveness.. you'll do that right? Give a guy just one chance?"
The only response was silence, followed by a slight metal on metal tap. A few clicks, some shuffling, and glass clicking against glass.
Dr. Copplan: "Quai, a favor? Please apply added restraints to the legs, arms, and chest. Engage the metal restraints by the ankles and elbows, too. You'll find them in the wall, second drawer down in the middle."
She lifted her voice.
Dr. Copplan: "Extra restraints are being added at thirteen forty four for precaution. Lot Twelve being mixed."
What followed would be a series of noises. Bangs, thumps, strains and creaking, all signs the man was struggling against his bindings yet unable to free himself.
Mr. Rimeo: "Come on.. what the fuck are you two doing!? Is this an execution!? What the fuck, isn't there a process!?"Â
After several passing moments, the sounds of struggle ceased.
Ms. Mason: âAll set.â
Dr. Copplan: "Introduction of Lot Twelve, commencing.. Thirteen fifty."
11/30 - 13:50
Lot Twelve Introduction - 10mg/10ml
Total Cumulative - 10mg
Silence. Nothing on the recording made any indication to change or shift in tone. At first. But what followed would be the most authentic, enraged, painful scream the man had mustered to this point. The sound of metal creaking underlined the screams, the echo of his body thrashing on the metal bed captured in kind.
Ms. Mason: âRapid hair growth.. fascinating.â
Dr. Copplan: "Capillary bed leeching. Diaphoretic. Temperature increase. Metabolic. Very swift window of action. Five minutes to next introduction. We will be running at fifteen minute intervals."
The screaming would perish, left instead to heavy breaths claimed as the man tried to recover. His breathing was ragged, clearly disturbed as the body was compensating for some unknown stress. The silence was cut short as the man let free a pained cry, followed by the Doctorâs voice once more.
Dr. Copplan: "Evidence of rapid cellular replication. Muscular tumors. Sample 12-A has been collected. Second dose, going in now.."
11/30 - 14:05
Lot Twelve - 10mg/10ml
Total Cumulative - 20mg
The voice of the man carried up once more, matched with metallic groans from his restraints.
Mr. Rimeo: âNo.. No!â
The manâs muttering was brief, and what followed was another round of thrashing, screaming, and impacts. After several moments, the screams became garbled. The manâs voice appeared to be flooded out with fluid of some kind, his sounds now sputters and gurgles.
Ms. Mason: âIâm surprised heâs still alive. How long do you think his heart can hold out? He looks like heâs been tachycardic since right at the beginning of the first dose. Iâd love to know what his heart rate is actually at, if thatâs possible.â
Dr. Copplan: "I'd set it between one sixty and one eighty. SVT, regular, weak, thready. Rapid tumor growth on all muscle groups, complete elevation of respiratory rate likely due to acidosis. At this point, I'd calculate the dose as fatal. If not immediately, there is clear evidence of irreversible organ failure. Next dose onboard now.."
11/30 - 14:20
Lot Twelve - 10mg/10ml
Total Cumulative - 30mg
Ms. Mason: "I didn't even think heâd live to this point. If [REDACTED] took this dosage, she would simply exhaust herself and likely fall into a coma for a few daysâ time, but look.â
A pause of the conversation as the only sounds were the manâs gurgled and sputtered sounds.
Ms. Mason: âHeâs bleeding internally, all over. His body lacks the inherent regenerative that [REDACTED] has. Instead of simply passing out and allowing the body to naturally recuperate, his has internally given out. Completely.â
The sputtering sounds would slowly grind down. His breathing was becoming more labored and laden with fluid, and the sounds of his struggle passed into the occasional rattle on the metal table. After a few more moments of this sputtering, silence engulfed the room.
Dr. Copplan: "Time of death, 14:23. Cause, introduction of central paralytic which caused cardiac function to cease. Secondary to massive internal bleeding. Dr. Mia Copplan, Quai Mason, sign off at 14:25."
A click, followed by static as the recording ceased.
âI used to think that the hardest struggle of doctoring is learning the skills. But it is not, although just when you begin to feel confident that you know what you are doing, a failure knocks you down. It is not the strain of the work, either, though sometimes you are worn to your ragged edge. No, the hardest part of being a doctor, I have found, is to know what you have power over and what you donât.â
â Atul Gawande, âBetter, A Surgeonâs Notes on Performanceâ
I am looking for a few in character Medics/Doctors interested in taking part in an event dealing with a high volume of medical RP.
OOC experience with medicine is not required as there will be guides to follow as well as contacts should you have any questions. The event date has yet to be set, and will be decided upon by those taking part so as to assure best availability with the least conflict.
Please contact me if you are interested in learning more and I will happily go into full detail on the event and what it pertains.
The first sense to respond was hearing. Registering the mechanical humming of something as of yet unknown. Her other senses slowly pulled their own weight, one by one coming online to piece together where she was. Misery finally opened her eyes, grateful at the very least for the absence of glaring sunlight. There was enough light, however. Enough to take in her setting.
A room, comfortable yet not very comforting. Even in peripheral she could see the mask that rested upon her face. The machine beside her providing a mechanical supply of oxygen to that mask to give her necessary quantity. Above that machine, a steady drip provided to an unknown substance. Perhaps only fluid. It drained out down a tube that vanished under the sheets in the region of her arm.
A hospital. And she knew exactly which one it was. Had not been her first time in this place. Her head lowered back to the pillow to close her eyes once more. She passed the time now trying simply to remember.
She had been there with the Collective. She had remembered the shadows encroaching. Zena, Maud, she knew she needed to keep hold of them so they would not be lost to the darkness. The memories of her âfamilyâ flooding back, the years of misery before Misery.
And then, she was here. Had she failed? If so, why would she still be alive?
Her thoughts broke as the door to her room was opened. A figure entering, a familiar face decorated below by a crisp white coat. She moved to stand beside the bedding, at first assessing the drip and the machine before looking down to the Dwarf herself.
âGood morning.â Mia spoke in a tone of professional respect. âI know what you might be wondering. Youâve been out for about twelve hours. Your body was in a state of shock without injury. Likely the result of an acute mental stress. We see it often in Void-based attacks.â
Misery closed her eyes to take a slow breath. Maybe it was best that she didnât remember what exactly it was that put her down.
âAnâ Xerxes?â Misery inquired.
âSecured, by what I saw. I offered to take him into my care as well but it was insisted he remain at the Breach under the care of another. You, on the other hand, needed to be monitored. Youâll be pleased to know that all of your systems seem to now be back in normal ranges. Even did some labs, which also returned normal. Youâre healthy as can be.â
Misery took only a minimal comfort in the reassurances. But she was not without manners. She lifted a hand from beneath her covers to offer to Mia.
âThanâ ye, Doctor. So what now, I stay here fer a few daysâr..?â
Mia took the hand in both of her own, contrasting the thick, stocky grip of the Dwarf with her slender fingers. âHardly. You recovered very well. Iâm going to hold you until the afternoon if that is alright, simply to assure you have no complications given that you just recently awoke.â
âThaâs fine.â Miz agreed, managing a weak little smile under the oxygen mask. She released Miaâs hands and dropped her arm back to the bedding. âCould ye open mâwindow a crack though? If ye donât mind. Iâd like ta be able ta hear tha birds, smell tha air a bit.â
Mia nodded, moving to the window and releasing a small latch before pushing it out to open. The morning spring air filled the space, giving Misery cause to lift her mask from her face and try for a fresh breath.
Mia chuckled at the silly display, moving back to the bedside and replacing that mask with a nasal one at a lower flow rate. Miz relaxed significantly in absence of such a device, her breathing steady and deep.
âGet a bit more rest, Ms. Misery.â With that, Mia gave a soft pat to Mizâ arm and departed the room, leaving the Dwarf alone once more. She didnât have much a choice but to comply with the Doctorâs wishes at this moment. Thus, she settled back into her pillow and closed her eyes, seeking the calm of sleep once more.
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