video

[zen_en_vert]

Hello- everyone. Whatever we are.

My name is Doctor Bruce Banner. I'm- [not that kind of doctor, actually, but not going to overcomplicate this with semantics when the reality is he's perfectly capable.] -collecting medical supplies, and a record of who here knows what amount of first aid.

If any of you have any untreated injuries that you'd like to be seen, please let me know.

And a message, for going forward. One of the serious issues that we're going to have with this place will be dealing with the possibility of infection. Individually tailored cocktails of antibiotics are just not a reality right now. The supply of ointment is low.

That means that when you get cut, you need to take it seriously and you need to treat it immediately. Use soap, and warm water, and scrub your cuts. I know it's painful, if it isn't painful you're doing it wrong, but you need to take a soft clean cloth or a soft-bristled medical brush or sponge, and you need to scrub, with soap, under as steady a stream of hot clean water as you can get your hands on. Especially if there was dirt in the cut, or if you were bitten by some kind of animal. Obviously wash your hands as well before dressing a wound. So, that's the bad news, I guess?

If you need help, you can always get in contact with me. If you've got any first aid training, please get in touch here so we can pool our resources. Same thing if you'd like to get training.

If you're interested in helping, or learning to help at all, I have a building with electricity that I'm trying to clean and disinfect to the point where it will serve as a makeshift clinic until we can all get out of here.

Comments

offline

[greywaren]

[True to his word, Ronan shows up at the clinic the day after all of the hallucinations have vanished. He's carrying a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and when he pops his head into the building, he's looking a bit worse for the wear than Bruce had seen him previously.

There's a nasty cut across one of his brows, branching into a lovely multicolored bruise on his temple. There's a similar bruise on his opposite jaw, both of which are a few days old at this point. Ronan's hands haven't escaped unscathed either- his knuckles are fat with swelling, and there's haphazard bandages on a few fingers where some of the burns have started to peel. Still, he doesn't really make much of a comment on it- he simply hikes the strap higher on his shoulders and taps on the wall.]

Bruce? You here?

[zen_en_vert]

Upstairs!

[He calls, and then pokes his head out, with a smile that fades quickly into a concerned frown.]

Ronan- come in, you can be my first patient.

[greywaren]

[He doesn't return the friendliness, but shuffles up the stairs anyway and sets the bag down on one of the chairs up there. His jaw is tense, and he doesn't look toward Bruce as he works, leaning over to fumble a little at the closure of the bag with his injured fingers before he finally gets it open and takes a step back, inviting Bruce to look inside.]

I couldn't find everything, but that's some of it.

[Inside the bag is the majority of what Bruce had asked for- gauze pads and bandages, needles and suturing thread for stitches, and even a small tub of ointment. The curious thing about it is that all of the supplies are in colorless packaging, off-white and vaguely sterile looking. The jar of ointment has no label or lettering on it at all, but Ronan has helpfully written 'antibiotic ointment' on the lid in a sharpie scrawl for further identification.

He shrugs.]

I'll get more later.

[zen_en_vert]

[Bruce nods, and pads to the sink and the thin supply of water there to go scrub his hands up.]

I forgot to ask for a few things, so I'll send up a new list before you do.

How did this happen?

[greywaren]

Sure.

[Ronan takes a step back, watching a little warily as Bruce scrubs up. His fingers twist into some of the leather bands wrapped around his wrist and he spins them idly- he expects the question, and he answers it with a noncommittal murmur and, after a moment, clarifies.]

...got into a fight.

[Is the long and short of it. I beat a man to the verge of death is perhaps a better answer, but one that would raise the wrong kinds of questions.]

This- whatever just happened, with seeing shit. It sucked.

[zen_en_vert]

Okay. Hop up on the table.

[Giving him a nod.]

Test it out for me. It's new.

[greywaren]

[Most people are offended or put off by Ronan's standoffish attitude, his secrecy, or just his general disdain of everyone around him- and it's difficult to blame them, to be honest. However, Bruce just seems to go with it, and the agreeableness gives Ronan pause, before he lifts up to sit on the table in compliance.

Bruce is being kind to him because he's valuable, maybe. He can get supplies that everyone needs. It's a mutually beneficial sort of thing, so Ronan isn't going to complain.]

It was a few days ago.

[Offering a bit more explanation.]

Nothing's broken. I've had boxing fractures before- this doesn't feel like that.

[zen_en_vert]

[Ronan, you paranoid little mess. Bruce looks him over quickly, in that case, peering at the worst of the wallops and then nodding, stepping back.]

I'll take your word for it. Table okay, then?

Any trouble putting weight on anything?

[greywaren]

[Hey, you'd be paranoid too if spilled secrets resulted in the destruction of your childhood. It's not quite that he suspects everyone of foul play though, so much as he simply expects the worst from everyone and doesn't particularly care when he's proven wrong.]

It's fine.

[The table, he means. Ronan lifts his hand a bit, trying to flex his fingers- it's a little difficult, with the degree of swelling. He sighs after a moment and starts to rattle things off, to make it a little easier on Bruce for treating him.]

The worst of it: I broke teeth with this hand and cut it up pretty good. [Motioning toward his brow-] I got hit in the head with a gun. My fingers got burned. He got me in the jaw, too- it kind of clicks when I open my mouth, but I don't think it's dislocated.

[He shrugs, dropping his hand again.]

If you can't do anything, it's- whatever. I didn't come here for this, I'm just dropping my shit off, man.

[zen_en_vert]

Who did this to you?

[He can't help but ask, as he looks him over- everything is really a bit too old for him to do too much about, though he checks each of them in sequence.]

Is it alright if I touch your jaw?

[greywaren]

[Bruce's request for permission does not go unnoticed, and it's enough to give Ronan pause before he nods shortly and tilts his head up to allow for it- warily though, like an injured animal.]

...someone else's hallucination bullshit. It's not here anymore.

[The corner of his mouth curls in a hint of a smile that could almost be genuine.]

You should see the other guy.

[zen_en_vert]

Well, small mercies.

[He gently, carefully, rests his fingertips over his jaw, right at the joint, and instructs;]

Open.

Closed.

Half way-

[Just checking to see if the joint is roughly where it should be.]

[greywaren]

[His jaw flexes at the request, and of course there's a strain that seems to pop at a certain tension- due to swelling more than any dislocation, it would seem. Ronan looks to him expectantly, with a weight in his shoulders despite his attempts at keeping the tone casual.]

I figured, if I needed my mouth wired shut it'd hurt way worse than this. How bad is it?

[Courteously, he tries not to move his mouth too much when he's speaking- don't want to throw off Bruce's focus, after all.]

[zen_en_vert]

How sure are you that this medication you found for me is safe?

[He wonders, stepping back, and lowering his hands.]

You're fine. You're going to be fine. But you'll be fine much more quickly if you take an anti-inflammatory for a couple of days.

[greywaren]

[There's a pause at that- and it's not because Ronan isn't sure, but rather, that he's trying to view this from all angles, trying to be absolutely sure.]

I'm sure it won't hurt me.

[Which is definitely true. He's also fairly sure that it will work perfectly on him. Still-]

Safe for other people, yes. Effective, maybe. Does this mean I'm your guinea pig?

[zen_en_vert]

Only because I can't test it on myself. My biology isn't normal, I could eat arsenic.

[Explaining, as he goes to begin unpacking the things he's brought.]

[greywaren]

What?

[He remembers the idle statement before, something about not being able to hurt this mild mannered doctor with his knife. Ronan turns his head toward him then, attentive for what's probably the first time since he's arrived.]

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

[zen_en_vert]

I mean, I have been shot in the head and walked away.

[He says, looking him in the eyes.]

I told you. I'm not- someone people should attack.

[greywaren]

Why?

[Ronan isn't bolting, not yet, but that doesn't mean that he's taking this without much concern, either.]

What's wrong with you?

[zen_en_vert]

I was exposed to unusually- nearly fatally high levels of gamma radiation. This was one of the unforeseen side effects.

[greywaren]

[Ronan just blinks at him.]

So... what? [He hears fatal, hears radiation, and draws any natural conclusion a seventeen year old boy probably would.]

You have super-cancer or something?

[zen_en_vert]

Don't be ridiculous.

I have a condition where my body reacts to stress by manifesting spontaneous properties. Anger, or enough fear and pain, makes me- transform.

Like a werewolf, sort of, but without the wolf part.

[greywaren]

[Ronan glares.]

Radiation sounds more like cancer than it does werewolf.

[And, after a moment-] Can you do it now? Transform, I mean.

[zen_en_vert]

No. It's painful, and it's dangerous.

[A mild shrug.]

And of the two of us, Ronan, you have bigger secrets.

[greywaren]

[Ronan darkens at that, easily defensive.]

There's this phrase about gift horses and mouths. You should look it up.