Welcome to the Nexus Clinics! (original) (raw)

Suddenly, Guybrush appears in the clinic. "I go there, right?

...

Oh, that's how it works!"

He looks around, wondering how to do this. He's learned that things in this nexus work a lot differently to things back home. God, he missed Elaine. But this wasn't about her. He wasn't gonna let the fact that his wife was kidnapped get him down. No, he needed some kind of help to get over that... carnival, all those years ago.

"Doctor? Medic? Somebody?"

06 August 2009 @ 08:21 pm

The portal does not lead directly to the Nexus clinics, but it does spit the small group out fairly close by. Thorn is carrying Courtney and clinging to Irma's wrist, impelling all three of them tumbling through together. It is luck that his knee does not collapse on arrival, and he staggers towards the open doors of the hospital. It is his first thought that Courtney, who was on the floor and squinting blindly in the light of the portal's appearance, needs immediate medical attention. This assumption may be slightly inaccurate, as this was due more to being stunned than any greater injury. Thorn himself, however, is bleeding from multiple stab wounds and drops to his knees shortly inside the clinic, barely retaining his grasp on her. His grip on Irma is lost as he puts a hand to the floor to catch himself from further collapse. Courtney slides the last few inches to the floor while Thorn wheezes, head whirling from the recent events, and blood loss. He has noticed that Harold was nowhere to be seen on their arrival, and worries, but he does not have the breath to put this concern into words.

Once the chest tube is out, and various tests have revealed extensive damage to his shoulder that his continued activity has prevented from healing, The Shadow is returned to his bed in a private room. He is very clearly not happy about any of this, but never once does he complain, which would only invite criticism for his not seeking medical treatment sooner. Neither does he give any indication of trying to leave any time soon. In the end, he knows perfectly well what is good for him, and expects to be stuck in bed for a few days at the very minimum.
Thanks to Myra's attentive aid, his black garb, guns, reading glasses, and PINpoint are all handily within reach on a bedside tray. He spends several hours in communications with Burbank via text messages, coordinating and researching and attempting to arrange a mass of agents to take up the various work that he ordinarily does himself. It's an extensive undertaking.
After that, and a purely unintentional nap, he is desperately bored and available to recieve any visitors, should he have any. He is hoping that if he does, they will being him something to read.

Current Mood: annoyedannoyed

PINpointing into the clinics tonight is a black-clad form, his emergency status noticeable in the way he is on his knees and struggling to breathe, or more accurately struggling not to. There are no signs of bloodshed, at least, but he is unable to regain his feet and proceed any further than whatever main receiving room the coordinates have dropped him into.
He manages to hold onto his PINpoint, however, and remains upright on his knees rather than collapsing to the floor. Beneath the broad-brimmed slouch hat is the face of an old man, going slightly grey as he clutches his left side in pain. Although there is no obvious sign of a punctured lung, it is nevertheless collapsing and his attempt not to breathe is the only thing he is capable of to delay it.
Investigation will reveal that he has not, unfortunately, ever submitted a medical profile to the Clinics. This is not quite how he intended his initial visit to go.

Some hasn't been to the Clinics since his rescue last November, but this is still too soon for a repeat visit. This time, he's at least brought his own doctor with him. And he's not missing any parts - just the better part of his wits.

16 January 2009 @ 06:16 pm

Snake slinks into the clinics, in a gray jacket, looking like a plain average joe. He briefly enquired to Eiko's status, even as his mental state of mind was pacing like a confined lunatic. Lita had said she was trustworthy, and the few times he has met her, she did not ring off any of his alarms.

But he had reason to be weary. While the man waited to be seen, he took up a chair, and browsed through an old copy of National Geographic, actually reading the articles - not just staring at the pretty pictures.

Current Mood: stressedstressed

27 November 2008 @ 10:02 pm

Phoenix PINs in, carrying a seriously worse for wear Some with him. Finding one of the darker corners of the waiting room, he heads over and places the poor Grue on a stretcher. A hard look is on his face, a mixture of anger, guilt, and disgust.

It's only now that he notices the most horrific aspect of Some's condition: there's definitely an eye missing. He feels rage building in him; the bastard took his EYE. What kind of horrible, monstrous...

And then from that rage comes... an odd shift. He closes his eyes for a bit, and when he opens them, he seems calm, collected.

Poker-faced, one might say.

He looks at Some. "You'll get back at him for this one day the way you want. For now, let me get back at him the way I do best," he says, quietly, calmly. Then, making sure one of the nurses notices Some, he PINs out, more focused than he's been in a while.

24 November 2008 @ 11:04 pm

The thing that skitters in does not look human. It resembles a crab more than anything else, with a flattened sphere of a body, smooth and gleaming white, the surface interrupted only by the complicated socketing for the short and curving limbs that ring it. It skitters back and forth, tapping on the floor, the wall, desks, anything it can touch, trying to catch someone's attention.

Anyone's attention.

Help...

13 November 2008 @ 01:11 am

Oh goodness. There's a young man(?) unconscious on the floor of the Clinics Lobby, having appeared there by PIN. The Thing is curled on its side, a massive swelling distorting its temple, blisters risen in a smear across its face, but no discoloration of skin, no redness at all.

Stuck to its fingers is a note that reads "Please treat." Oh, won't you?

10 October 2008 @ 09:19 pm

Georik groaned as he became aware of light, light pouring into his eyes, and pain that settled into his spine, his neck, and everywhere else in his body.

"...uh?" He blinked as he realize he's in the clinics - again. God damn it! The man tried to sit up, and it took two or three tries before he could do it without crying out in pain from the unfamiliarity of his body from such a long absence of consciousness.

Current Mood: confusedconfused

27 September 2008 @ 10:18 pm

The clinics may get a rude shock as several people suddenly PINpointed into the Nexus - Metody supporting an unconscious man with long hair, while the resident Grue kept Nick steady, but position just in case the man decided to lose his lunch again.

27 September 2008 @ 01:11 pm

Madeline walked in alone with a thick immobilizing bandage around her left wrist and hand and found a place that looked more or less like a waiting room to sit down and wait in. She'll be as patient as she needs to be until someone comes by and possibly asks her what she's doing. After all, she has all the time she needs, and she brought a book.

Madeline pulls it out of her purse (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) and carefully opens it on her lap, turning the pages with one hand as she goes along.

30 August 2008 @ 02:57 pm

John wandered into the clinic, a look of pain on his face. He slumped heavily into a chair and started massaging his temples. He wasn't sure who to talk to but he needed to talk to somebody soon, the pain in his head getting worse by the second - so much so that he could barely see for it now. He had picked up a PINpoint but was unsure how to use it; maybe he would ask a doctor if one came to his aid.

"Um, hello?" he asked to the room.

Current Mood: soreOW!

02 August 2008 @ 09:55 pm

Soma grimaced as he felt the slight jarring "Fall" that accompanies every PIN. It didn't help that he was lugging two fellows that each were easily his weight.

"Hey, anyone?" The albino called out. "Got a couple of unconscious guys here! I think they did some sort of Mind-meld."

A man walks into Clinics, the PINpoint someone gave him still clutched in one hand. He's certainly a sight that may give one pause between the cybernetic left arm and the fact that the drab, grey jumpsuit he's wearing is covered in blood.

"Hello...?"

Current Mood: confusedconfused

( Contains spoilers for Dark Knight.Collapse )

((Further narratives with Harvey can be found on his journal, so not to flood the Clinics comm.))

Garen PINs in. The PINpoint is stuck to his shirt, a good thing because otherwise he'd probably drop it. He's lying on his stomach, conscious but sullen, and probably not very talkative if spoken to. His left arm is quite clearly broken, he's bleeding from a superficial scalp wound, and his right leg looks like somebody bashed it with a garden hoe (which they did). It may or may not be broken, but it's also bleeding and looks nasty. He also has a fauxhawk.

((Bedtime for mun. Will tag in ten to twelve hours. Probably closer to twelve.))

Arabelle Kintotech is in a bed at the Clinics once more.

Only now does it hit her, the irony of vanishing about this same time last year. She's mostly staring at the wall across from her.

She, once again, has an IV in her leg. Although the Doctor had to remove something from her leg earlier. To add to the cordly confusion, Arabelle's arms are hooked up to cables as well. When she burnt herself out, she burnt out everything. She was running on the power source reserves in her cybernetic arms.

In comparison to the last time anyone saw her, Arabelle is notably thinner. She's lost weight, and her head's been shaved (Although at near violent insistence--as much as she could be violent in this situation, she has a hat, a skullcap like this, although plain black rather than having any design on it). She's been able to bathe since getting back, although there's an ugly black scorch mark on the cybernetic portion of her right shoulder.

She occasionally fidgets with her hands. She hates being confined to bed, especially when she's just gotten out of a worse version of this.

He doesn't know how long he's been asleep, but it's been a long time.

At least, it feels like a long time. When he wakes up in the quarantine wing of the clinics, his head aches with the sort of sluggish tug of a too-long nap. It's a little difficult to sit up, but he manages anyway. He stretches his arm out in front of him, watching it waver and shake.

He's felt like this before, he thinks. Twice. Six months ago, maybe. And six months again before that. He knows the drowsiness, how it's not quite like sleep, and how his body always take some time to adjust. It helps that the last thing he remembers before this bed is blinding white pain. Yellow. Red.

So he died again. So he's back.

It isn't something he can be certain of, but it makes sense given the symptoms. How or Why doesn't even factor in yet. All that matters is that he's here right now... living.

He makes a lunge for the bag next to his bed and coughs up a dozen brown, flaky spores into it, suddenly feeling more sick than ever. When the nausea clears, he takes a glass of water from the counter and drinks. God, he thinks. Where's Jeff?

But he can't feel him. There is absolutely nothing in the back of his mind. There are no emotions flickering across or memories or anything. He's alone.

It's broken. The bond is broken.

oh god, he thinks. oh god.

The beds in this wing are all separated by curtains. He can hear coughing next to him-- familiar, maybe.

"Jeff...?"

He's never felt so blind in his entire life.

Grif PINs into the lobby of the Clinics. He's got someone with him, a man in motorcycle leathers and a helmet of insectoid design. The other man's not really in any good shape to hold himself upright, though, and Grif hadn't really had much time to get a good grip before snatching him from the grasp of the Bad Guys[tm]. Grif thus has to suddenly scramble a bit to keep the man from just collapsing onto the floor. As he does so, he jacks up the volume on his helmet's speakers and calls out, "MEDIC!!"

Hopefully, Grif will be able to get the man checked in for some... fairly major emergency surgery. Getting a pole shoved through you's probably not very good, not to mention whatever else is wrong with him.

Flavius lies in a bed in the clinics, staring at the IV drip of fear gas treatment and shivering. He's too weak to stay awake for long, someone had said something about cardiac arrest and resultant cardiomyopathy.

When he is awake, memories assault him. So many memories that he weeps. He remembers, now, who and what he was, and what he had done. His mind is torn between regret for the pain and madness he'd caused and regret for the beauty and power he'd lost. But at least now he knows fully why it was done.

There's not much that can be done for a blinded Grue in the Clinics. Some gets salved and bandaged, all the parts that were turned towards the camera flash scorched to some degree, and it's no time at all before he's ready to go home. But... he has a problem. He's not carrying his PIN, and he's not familiar enough with the rooms here to teleport from them without seeing them.

He's stuck.

Well. It's been a while since he's woken up HERE.

It takes him a little bit to become fully cognizant. The first thing that strikes him, though, is that there's a dull ache pretty much everywhere. His right hand is the worst off, and a quick glance confirms the presence of a cast reaching up to the mid forearm, with a splint for the index finger. He also gradually becomes aware of a bandage on his nose, and around his ribs.

He'd been stupid. Really stupid.

He should have realized what a psychopath Kristoph Gavin was from the start; all the evidence was pointing that way. But a part of him wanted to rub it in, to show Kristoph that after all the hell he'd put him through over the month, he was going to be okay. In a childish way, he'd wanted to rub it in.

What a price he'd paid for it.

He leans back in the bed, closing his eyes lightly. Well. At least he knows not to underestimate Kristoph Gavins of any sort in the future.

(16 Apr)PM shift report:

fMRI performed 14:30. Brain function normal save for hyperstimulation in the entire visual cortex, lateral auditory cortex/Wernicke's. Marked deficiency of medial temporal consistent with presentation of severe retrograde amnesia.

Patient regained consciousness only once, while scan was being performed, but remained in a confused and quiescent state.

Inquiry re: homicide pending.

(16 Apr)AM shift report:

Patient regained consciousness at 10:47. Presented severe agitation, fear and confusion. Made repeated references to a "man with razors," as well as something someone finally made out as "too many lights." IV haldol administered, 5 mg.

Regained consciousness again at 13:10. Presented less agitation, confusion was consistent. Patient cannot recall name, date, place of birth, parents' names--standard inquiries. Brain fMRI ordered. Span of consciousness was brief--seven minutes. Patient presents severe lassitude/withdrawal. Possible PTSD. Parenteral nutrients continued.

Inquire into patient's status re: possible homicide.

(15/16 Apr)NOC shift report:

Patient arrived at 05:21 via nexus portal into the lobby with a five-foot drop. Accompanied by approximately 15 pounds of shrimp. Onsite neuro revealed patient in unconscious state. Head trauma negative.

Patient presents dehyd./malnut. state. External injury negative despite presence of blood on skin and clothing. Tox screen negative. Patient is unresponsive, vitals stable. CT/fluid draws revealed human physiology. Internal injury negative.

No identification found. Patient admitted at 06:02 as a John Doe.

Grif PINpoints in with... well, he's not sure what it is, but his sensors say that there's something alive inside the tin can, so he figures the Clinics is the place for it. He doesn't really have that much in the way of answers for Liv, but presumably manages to get the weird thing checked in so that... someone will come by to have a look.

It's an oddly-dressed group of people that PINpoint to the Nexus. Three of them -- Dr. Schreber, Thorn, and Sarah Branigan -- are in their nightclothes. The only one dressed in street clothes, a young man named Cornelius Gibbs, is also the one who clearly needs medical attention. Someone beat him very badly.

Sarah doesn't seem to care that she's wearing a bathrobe with flowers on it and fuzzy slippers; she immediately grabs a couple of orderlies to place Gibbs in a gurney, then orders a series of tests, including a chest x-ray and a head CT. And painkillers, in IV form.

She gets some ice for Gibb's obviously broken nose. It can't be reset until the swelling goes down.

Current Mood: stressedserious

Scaevola is convinced that there is never and will never be an end to paperwork, nor any sort of machine that can take care of it all without human effort. This is because we have already made our machines too intelligent and they know enough not to get involved in this whole, silly filling forms in triplicate business.

Some time last night, Jeff was wheeled into the clinics with several stab wounds in his right leg after dosing himself with fear gas. The pain in his leg is reduced to a dull throb thanks to the Clinic's generous array of painkillers and tranquilizers, but those same drugs keep him from concentrating on anything for very long. So he spends most of his time drifting in and out of restless sleep, or staring out the window.

There's nothing to do.

28 February 2008 @ 03:00 am

THIS ... is one place the tiny goth hasn't been yet. Although he probably should have before now, given how hard it is for regular-type doctors to deal with someone with his uh, Nexus-ly circumstances. Anyway, Maria called ahead and made an appointment for him this Thursday evening, and he shows up, despite having seriously considered not doing so. He only needs to get an STD test, really. And then get treatment for that.

He talks to the receptionist, then waits in the lobby for his name to be called or whatever, slumped in his chair and staring at his shoes like he wants to just sink into the floor and disappear. This is enormously embarrassing, okay, especially since this time he knows what's going on.

21 February 2008 @ 05:17 pm

If you'd like, I thought it'd be neat/amusing to list things that are definitely in the Nexus Clinics. This totally doesn't preclude making up new stuff to suit the scene! Feel free to talk about your various lab areas, rooms, equipment, etc. — how accessible they are could be an interesting potential plot point. I mean, hi, we've got a Sylar for a lab tech, lulz.

Here are my contributions:

:D? :D?