Escape From the Marathon

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Gerald was unable to put together what was happening as Summer shook him wildly with her still-unfastened shirt. He was still trying to say something or react, she was too fast and excited.

He shook his head clear as Summer suddenly stopped, pointing towards the wounded, captured alien, which had started to slip out of the room. He reached for his assault rifle, but didn't have it. He grabbed his pistol and ripped it free of its holster and took aim at the alien, but Summer yelled "Don't shoot it!" as she brushed right past him, reaching for her staff. He realized that with her unbuttoned shirt, she had-

Cut that shit out.

Gerald yelled back, "Then what the hell do I do?!" as he aimed tentatively towards the alien, which was about to run right past them.
Last edited by Paul on Dec 7th '10, 07:33, edited 1 time in total.
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Summer grabbed her staff from against the wall behind the couch awkwardly in her rush, her uninjured left hand gripping just below the sharp, softly glowing tip. She leapt over the couch after the alien remarkably acrobatically, surprising herself -- probably a combination of her sleepy body relaxed and limber and her drugged-up mind artificially induced into a calm but hyperaware "zone". But while analyzing the success of her leap in midair she forgot herself and landed less than gracefully, stumbling forward headlong in nothing approaching a fighting stance.

Doing her best to catch herself and attack the alien, she slid into an elongated front stance halfway across the room, while swinging the blunt end of her staff weapon wide toward the fleeing alien. As luck would have it, she had just enough reach in her still-elongating stance for the heavy blunt base of the staff to knock squarely into the alien's head just as it rounded the corner of the wall, its head in turn ricocheting off said corner. It fell to the ground, dazed but still conscious, as Summer's stance slipped further and she ended up sitting in an imperfect split merely a meter from the alien.

She spun her grip on the staff toward the center and pointed it awkwardly toward the creature, while frightfully stammering to anyone else in the room, unable to move from this position easily without dropping her guard, "uh... help!"
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Dec 7th '10, 07:51, edited 1 time in total.
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Gerald ran towards the alien with a mix of repulsion and concern for Summer. The concern for Summer overwhelmed his repulsion of getting near the alien, and he kicked it in the head, knocking it to the floor. It was still conscious, but barely moved, seemingly defeated for the moment.

He extended a hand to Summer. "You alright?" he asked as he checked over his shoulder, watching the alien.
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Summer hooked her right arm over Gerald's hand -- her right hand still too swollen to put any pressure on -- and pulled herself back to her feet, replying with a mild sigh and shrug, "Alive. And gonna stay that way. Cured this thing" she said, flashing the ugly wound on her right hand at Gerald. "Why the hell didn't we tie this back up down at the elevator?" she asked herself as much as anyone else, lightly kicking the alien's foot.

The alien feebly warbled something through its mask. "Shut up you!" she shouted at it.
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Dec 7th '10, 08:03, edited 1 time in total.
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As Summer picked herself up, she sighed, "Cured this thing," gesturing with her hand.

Good, Gerald thought. Clean that thing up.

Not wanting to say it that way, he inquired politely, "Need any help with that?"
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Harley was thrown out of the daydream he was having when he saw that Summer and Gerald were chasing an alien out of the med bay?the same one they were keeping captive.
Jumping to alertness, Harley readied his rifle, which he left laying beside him, as he quickly felt for the trigger? "Don't shoot it!" Summer shouted.
Harley sighed, mostly out of desperation. Well then what am I supposed to be doing?
Laying the weapon back down, he ran to the med bay entrance to see that they had successfully taken the alien down again. Feeling guilty for not responding to the alien threat quicker?considering he was closest to it when it nearly made its escape?he asked, "Need a hand?"
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Marathoner325 wrote:"Harley? Was the flyer small enough to fit through the hole in the barricade?" Harley heard Simon ask him. "If so, we're gonna have to make it smaller."
...
I'm not so interested in finding out, Marty said to himself, as he slipped into the records room in the back of the Med Bay.

His stomach turned at the sight of the gore in front of him. The gunfire in the adjacent room became the melody to the mental replay of his nurse's flailing body parts, and the alien's turning against each other (fortunate for him, Marty realized).

A few moments after the last assault rifle round sounded MacLeary decided he should go check on the boy he had left on the table. He turned to head out, but noticed the open vent shaft he had skulked through earlier. hmmm, maybe we should get this blocked off, too, he thought.

Marty re-entered the Med Bay with each of alien weapons from the deceased, one in each hand. Souvenirs.

"Where is everyone?" Dr. MacLeary inquired, noticing the vacant bed, and heap of bloodly flesh on the floor.
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"Need any help with that?" / "Need a hand?", Gerald and Harley asked over each other. Summer blushed a little and snorted a suppressed laugh at the unexpected image of all the men in the room suddenly jumping to her 'rescue'.

"No, but thanks", she said, earnestly. "Well," she added, "you can tie this thing back up and make sure it stays tied this time". She lightly kicked the alien to indicate the object of her request. "But this", she held up her wounded hand, in response to Gerald's more specific inquiry, "this needs-"

The doctor suddenly inquired, "Where is everyone?", from the back of the room.

"Where have you been?" Summer accusingly asked in return. Noticing Harley's still-injured ear, she added "Why isn't he patched up yet?" Slipping into a ranting tone, she continued "I just engineered antibodies to two completely different, entirely-alien pathogens I've never seen before, while suffering their symptoms, on 36 hours of sleep deprivation. What the hell have you been doing all this time? You can't put a couple stitches in a man!?"
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Dec 9th '10, 19:54, edited 1 time in total.
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Gerald froze in place, watching Summer rant at the doctor. He glanced at Harley, raised his eyebrows and gestured at Summer, and then looked back towards the violent rage. Even with his frustration at the doctor's absence, Gerald would never yell like that. He contemplated trying to calm Summer down, but remembered his previous luck with her and remained silent throughout.

After Summer had stopped, seething in anger, Gerald glanced about to see if there was anything with which he could tie down the alien. There wasn't, but he saw an opportunity to get the doctor out of the spotlight. "Hey, uh, Doc," he piped up. "Is there anything good for tying down this alien?"

He paused a second, and then added, "And what was your name again?"
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Summer sighed and rolled her eyes a little and calmed back down. One good thing about anxiolitics is it's hard to get genuinely angry on them. Not that the doc really deserved it anyway, she thought to herself. We've all had a really shitty night.

She stood close to Harley and quietly said to him, insistently, "You really need to get that fixed up," gesturing to his ear. "I know you're a guy, and the whole show-no-pain thing" she said, only slightly patronizingly, "but, seriously, that's probably already infected, gonna scar up nasty if it doesn't get sewn up right soon, and you look like you've lost a good amount of blood already. I can find you a generic antibiotic and maybe an IV drip somewhere around here, but you gotta bug the doc to actually fix that before it's too late."

"Let me just start this antibody synthesizing and I'll see what I can find..." she said, walking back to her protein synthesizer.
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Dec 10th '10, 02:59, edited 1 time in total.
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"Is there anything good for tying down this alien?"

He paused a second, and then added, "And what was your name again?"


"It's Marty, Marty MacLeary." Marty attempted to let phonetics provide some intrigue over his plain appearance with his the best psuedo ancient-Scottish accent he could muster. "...and, hmm...you're transporting this thing around? They're two dead ones in the back room if you want to play them, too. Anyhow, the mobile gurney has restraints, otherwise I can activate restraints for any of the stationary beds."

Marty laid the alien sticks on an empty bed, and approached Harley. "Looks like my last patient checked himself out, so you're next," he said very matter-of-fact to the earless one, while glaring at Summer. "I hope the results of the video game in back does something for her Bitch Fever," Marty half muttered to himself.

The doctor peeled back the rags on Harley's head for a cursory inspection of the injury. "Let's see what we have here. Hmm, well, have a seat on this table and we'll get you cleaned up, and sewn back together."

Marty stepped over the trail of blood leading from the heap near the door. "I assume this one didn't make it?"
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"The mobile gurney has restraints..." the doctor, who had announced himself as Marty MacLeary (while distorting his accent strangely).

"Thanks, MacLeary," Gerald replied, half-seriously and half-sarcastically because the enormity of securing the alien had crystallized inside his mind. He shrugged, walking over to the snarling but cowering alien. "Let's go, you little shit," he snarled at the alien uncharacteristically as he hit it with the butt of his pistol. It keeled over in pain, and Gerald lifted it off the ground. It felt way too light for its size.

He then chastised himself: They're bugs, you idiot.

As he set the now-writhing alien down on the table, Gerald pistol-whipped it once more, dazing it completely and giving him enough time to restrain the alien's arms and legs. Gerald fell back, sighing. Finally.
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The youth had settled well into the corner of the small, dusky room. The pain was no longer an incessant sting, rather a more pulsating ache that echoed his notably irregular heartbeat. He was aroused by some venomous speech across the room. He lifted his heavy head slowly and, with a calculated push, turned it around to see where the noise had come from. He saw the larger man hit the alien (that he had hereto not noticed whatsoever) with the butt of his pistol, hearing a muffled crunch both when the shaft cracked against the creature's temple and when the already fragile cranium struck the metal floor. Its eyes were still open, glaring and glittering straight at the youth.

Their eyes met and they both screamed to each other inside their heads- "Get me out of here".
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As much as he didn't want to, Gerald's curiosity forced him to look at the dead boy. He lifted himself to his feet and followed the trail of blood slowly with his eyes, leading to the tattered, dead boy-

Except he wasn't dead.

The boy had lifted his head and was looking intently at the restrained alien. Gerald jumped inwardly at the haunting silence of both the alien and the boy, and turned around. "Doc-" he started, and pointed at the boy.
Last edited by Paul on Dec 12th '10, 00:09, edited 1 time in total.
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As Summer finished setting the protein synthesizer to replicate her new medicine, she overheard the Doctor tell Harley, "Looks like my last patient checked himself out, so you're next." Oh she thought to herself, unexpected relieved of the duties to Harley she had just taken upon herself. Good on you and About time tripped over each other in her mind, both directed at the doctor.

She stood watching Gerald tie down the alien, wondering whether she should attempt her vivisection now or rest more and get to that later. Then she noticed something had caught Gerald's eye in the corner, and he shouted "Doc-", pointing at the bloody young kid she had thought she had hallucinated earlier, but who was apparently hiding in the corner, obscured by the couch near her workbench. "Ugh" she disgustedly said upon seeing him, his injuries grotesquely severe. A thought of Oh great, another kid slowing us down tried to assert itself from somewhere in the cynical part of her mind, but she was too fixated on the visceral reality before her eyes that her sympathy won out and drowned that thought.

Figuring the doctor would have to prioritize the kid first, she set about finding an antibiotic and an IV drip for Harley as she had said she would.
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Dec 12th '10, 02:50, edited 1 time in total.
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Marty disposed of the last swab needed to remove the blood and puss that had crusted where Harley's ear had been.

Suddenly, Gerald shouted "Doc!" Marty followed his gesturing. It took MacLeary a moment to realize the blood soaked flesh was not only in a different position, but had raised a head. Marty gave a blank stare and moaned "uh...Okay, then" before asking Gerald, "give me a hand getting this guy on the table, please?" Attempting some more akward humor, "We're getting good at this."
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As they lifted the boy, MacLeary made a joke: "We're getting good at this."

Despite himself and despite the inappropriateness of the joke, Gerald chuckled. The doctor reminded him of himself; just a little lost and trying to make the best of what was happening. As they set the mangled boy down, Gerald added "Good luck, Marty," and sat down with his assault rifle again, feeling a little warmer on the inside.
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Summer gathered some antibiotics and a bag of synthetic blood plasma for Harley as the Doc and Gerald tended to the half-dead kid in the corner. She handed Harley three pills and a glass of water and told him swallow, as she hung the plasma bag and connected it to an IV drop. "Let me see your arm" she said to Harley, holding the IV needle and a piece of tape with which to connect it. Noticing that his ear looked... more raw, but less gross than it had been, she commented "Oh, I guess he started in on you after all. Good on him."
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Harley downed the pills as soon as Summer gave them to him. "Let me see your arm," Summer instructed.
Harley pulled away the shreds of his sleeve from his wounded shoulder, and heard Summer comment, "Oh, I guess he started in on you after all. Good on him."
Knowing she was referring to his ear, Harley answered, "Yeah, he just started fixing it up a minute ago."
He reached for his ear, and then pulled it away when he realized there was no bandage over it. "You'll probably have to finish though," he added.
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As Harley spoke, Summer dabbed his arm with a swab of short-lived local anesthetic and painlessly inserted the IV drip needle, fastening it in place with tape. "Don't move too much or you could tear a vein. If you need to you can pull the needle straight out, just like I slid it in." Looking at his ear, she responded to his comment with "I'll find some clean gausse."

Returning a moment later with a roll of fresh sterile gausse, she pulled a length and was about to wrap Harley's head when something occurred to her. "Hey D-" she began, then made an effort to call the doctor by name. "McFly. Will it mess anything up if I bandage him before you stitch or whatever?"
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Dec 21st '10, 04:26, edited 1 time in total.
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Hrmph. Marty never understood the difficulty people seemed to have remembering his name. He usually assumed it was because of his unremarkable personality, but in this case he couldn't help but feel it was intentional. "Great Scott..." he mumbled, sounding a bit agitated. "Not exactly. Just do it loosely, and apply some sterile ointment first."

"Thanks for the help, Gerald."

"Boy? Can you here me?" Marty said the Euth as he angled a light from overhead into the boy's dilated pupils.
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Summer nodded at the doctor and grabbed a bottle of ointment from a cabinet, applying it to the portion of the bandage to cover Harley's ear, telling him "This will probably sting a bit," and proceeding to gently wrap his head with the gausse.
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The youth felt much better since the wound had stopped leaking. It was still pulsating regularly, but the pain was more of a bitter memory now. An older companion walked up to him and dangled a light into his eyes. The light was strong and made him squint as the older human examined him. Euthydemus said quietly, "oh, it doesn't hurt anymore. Don't worry about it."
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"oh, it doesn't hurt anymore. Don't worry about it."

"Very good," Marty said with mixed with disbelief and awe that the boy could speak so well. "You've several deep lacerations. Would you explain how you got them?" The doctor stepped several feet away from the table, still expecting an answer to his question. He returned with a syringe full of clear liquid. "I'm going to give you something for comfort. Please, how did this happen to you? Was it the aliens? Was there an accident? What's your name?" Marty paused, feeling he'd given a health barrage of questions. He grabbed a bottle of sterile solution and a rag, and began to clean the boy's arm, which left a new pool of blood on the floor.
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The boy paused as he tried to process the string of queries fired at him by the person. He started with the most obvious one (plus he was proud that he could actually remember his name). "My name is Euthydemus. My friends used to call me Daemon. Yeah- they were caused by the aliens. But I feel much better now. Much better." He paused and considered his following words. "I've been having some odd dreams lately, though." His slight British accent started to poke through the monotonous basic voice generated by shock as he concentrated. "Really odd dreams. I dreamt about a huge war. I watched the battle here play out to the bitter end, and all the battles afterwards. But there was always one thing that was always there. There was always this... guy. You know? He looked like a security officer, but... but I've never been acquainted with anybody so quiet and so bloodthirsty. I..." He paused again.

To the youth, it seemed like the other person offered a face of mild disgust, but it was really just empathy.
Last edited by Dugit on Dec 27th '10, 16:17, edited 1 time in total.
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