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Immortal Medical: Chronicles

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Sat Jul 05, 2008 4:08 pm

OOC: BOOOOOSSSHHH!

The comment of religion had Wally in a brief moment of deep thought. " I'm surprised as a scientist to say I believe in god now... Nein vay in Hell I'm bending over vhile demons rip und rape me again..." The IM tech was scratching his head, realizing how awkward that statement was.

Soon after, word of food had Wally almost jumping for joy. "Corner store? Zey might have jerky, und bee-" His expression went from happy to disappointed. " Of all ze things I give up, I had to add booze to ze list... Vell, at least I didn't give up adultery... Speaking of such.." His eyes focused on Tess, then went back to her father, who could crush his neck within one hand. "Nevermind."
"She called me late last night, to say she loved me so.
But I guess you changed her mind.
Well I should have known it wouldn't be all right,
But I can't live without her
So I won't even try...
And if I get drunk, then I'll pass out on the floor now baby.
Cause you won't bother me no more.
And if you're drinking, well you know that you're my friend and I say
I guess I'll have myself a beer."
Reel Big Fish- Beer

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Mikhos on Sat Jul 05, 2008 8:59 pm

Tess smiled. "You don't have to, you know. I imagine in a little while you'll be worth the trouble." The girl fixed her brown hair, looking uncomfortable as Walter's eyes fell on her for a second or so. She obviously had already taken a disliking to the scientist, normally someone would need at least an hour to hate him.

Mikhos laughed, though it didn't feel so good to do so. "I tek it you've got some sort of country upbringing, Shyanne? Personally I'd like some good cereal. Anywhooo. What do you got?"

Jonesy looked at Mikhos. "Ye up fer canned beans?"

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Zerta on Sun Jul 06, 2008 11:00 pm

He decided it could wait. There was too long of a gap inbetween the announcement and now. It would prove useless. No doubt about that. He started to speak, but a theif had stolen the words. Either that or the gears inside his head were actually doing their job for once. Either way, it worked out for the best. Food was sounded promising. He attempted to stand. He plopped back on the floor. He used the couch for support this time, he had beaten gravity- for the time being. He wobbled and leaned, but held onto the couch like a child grips their mother's hand at their first outing at an amusement park. He sat on the arm of the couch. It was mildy uncomfortable, but a seat. Not to mention it put him at eye level, which made him feel semi-involved. "Anything sounds good to me. As long as it won't fall out of my gut if I try to eat it." He smiled. He waited for at least one smirk in the room.
We're all on our way out, act accordingly.

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Aelita on Mon Jul 07, 2008 10:44 am

Shyanne looked over to Walter when he started naming off a list of things he wanted from the corner store. When he finished beer halfway through she couldn't help but think that it didn't sound to bad about then. She looked over to Tess and smiled at her comment. The fight wasn't over and they happened to be the only source of good skills with the artillery.

A comment from Mikhos caused Shyanne's smile to keep hold on her face. "Well, of course. If it wasn't for my father hounding me I would probably be a ranch hand like my other sister." She said this then her smile fell from her face. Though he was a hard ass her father had his own way of showing his love. It was too late to ever hear those words come from him now.

Trying to avert her thoughts she turned her attention to what Zerta had said and smiled lightly trying to get her mind to go into a more positive attitude. "Amen to that. Canned beans aren't too bad." She said turning to Jonesy. She just hoped that she would be stuck in a small space with these men after eating them.

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Mikhos on Mon Jul 07, 2008 9:39 pm

Jonesy laughed at the facial expression Shyanne had made.

"You afraid of my gas or somethin'? I say you should worry 'bout Tess more than me. She got them farts sometimes. And beans are plenty easy te eat." Jonesy beamed and his daughter blushed slightly, looking at the floor.

Mikhos burst out laughing again, rolling onto his side painfully. "Jesus if you guys keep this up, I'm gonna die." He righted himself again, a smile playing on his face. His hair was a mess still.

"Awright, hold on, I'ma go get ya some of them beans!" Jonesy boomed, strolling out of room.

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Aelita on Tue Jul 08, 2008 12:32 am

Shyanne smiled suddenly feeling much better. Her giggle was soft and barely audible, just like she liked it. Shaking her head she felt for Tess. The poor girl had to be stuck with that all of the time and now that there was company she was probably going to get a lot more teasing. "Thanks." She said with a light smile to Jonesy as he went to get the beans.

After the man had gone she turned to the bed closest to her and without anyone in it and sat down. Her leg was starting to hurt from standing up and didn't want to agitate it into pain. Biting on her lip in little nibbles she started to wonder how long it would take to heal. Mikhos' earlier comment had gotten her thinking about how fast he would heal since his injuries were worse than the others, that she knew of anyway.

Looking up to Walter than to Zerta she was surprised that they had all gotten out in one piece. There was something on their side and the odds definitely were against them then. Letting her lip slide from her top teeth her eyes slowly fell to the floor as she thought about how lucky they had been, and as she waited to get some food into her stomach.

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Himros on Sun Aug 03, 2008 12:23 pm

"Just about any food sounds good right now to me, It's been a good long while since we've had anything but chips 'n' junk food." breaking his silence for the first time, he hadn't done much for a while just sit there and absorb the situation they where in.
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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Mikhos on Wed Oct 15, 2008 5:34 pm

Jonesy came back in from whatever room could have been called the kitchen.
"Awright, supper's ready, folks." The giant of a man beamed. "Beans are a lot healthier than subway food, eh?" He asked, looking to Zerta.

"Finally. Some food would do wonders fer me right about now." Mikhos said, his eyes as hungry as the noise reverberating from his stomach. The skinny cop took the word skinny to a whole new level. Obviously a fast metabolism didn't help during disaster.

Tess came in a moment later with some Styrofoam bowls, handing one to each of the group. The girl's hair was surprisingly clean for the situation they were all in. It was kept in two little pig tails, her brown hair hopefully short enough that a zed couldn't get a good hold.

"Sorry about not having any silverware, guys." Tess said quietly, looking to the entire group. "But I have a feeling you won't mind."

"I'd eat food off the floor." Mikhos said, whipping his red bangs out of his face with a hand. "And that ain't a joke."

As Jonesy went and poured about a cup's worth of beans to each member, he himself ate the small remnant with a wooden spoon. The big man had to have needed more than what he left himself, but Mikhos imagined he wanted to help more than he let on. Mikhos felt bad for the man, giving what little he could to a ragtag group of survivors who could have been criminals for all he knew.

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Wed Oct 15, 2008 7:06 pm

Wally still held his hand over his damaged eye. It still felt there and real, however, there was no telling whether or not he could see with it. Jonesy and Tess returned to the room, food and bowls in hand. The scientist was drooling as if he saw several girls in maid outfits. As damaged as he was upstairs, he began to invision Tess in one as she was handing him a bowl. "Danke, dnake, danke, you two are so lovely. I'm so hungry..."

With the bowl of beans in his hand, Walt felt something wasn't right. Without a second thought, he reached into his pants pockets, and pulled out a set of wooden sticks. The IM tech brought them into view and examined them cofused. "Vhere did I get zese?"

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Re: Immortal Medical: Chronicles

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby isafos on Sun Oct 19, 2008 8:08 pm

He woke up to the sound of an engine ticking itself slowly cool. He smelt smoke and tasted blood. His face was resting on his wrists, which were handcuffed to a headrest in front of him. There was a throbbing in his head, and he was dizzy, but he concluded that nothing was broken or seriously strained. He lifted his head from his wrists and tried to look around. A seatbelt was holding him into his chair, but he couldn't move his hands from the headrests to unclip it. He looked to his right. He was sitting in the rear left passenger seat of a sedan, black leather upholstery. The front of the vehicle was wrapped around a telephone pole. Looking through the gap below the headrest and above the seat he could see the back of a man's head. It was bent at an awkard angle, just within the reach of his fingers. He reached his index and middle finger for the man's neck and felt for a pulse. Nothing. The man had broken his neck, and his head had been smashed into his side window. Fresh blood was trickling from his ear. He knew they can't have been there for a long time. On his right, a man, also visibly dead was compressed into the footspace of his seat, his chest was on his knees. Broken spine, he presumed. In the drivers seat a man was slumped forward, his head buried through the wheel. There was no horn though. The pole must have destroyed the battery. He himself was fine, but he had no idea why he was there, who the dead men in black blood-stained suits around him were, or, he realised with a dry throat, who he was. 'Oh shit' He croaked. His own voice was unfamiliar to him. He coughed to clear his throat and swallowed spittle to whet it slightly. Experimentally he repeated: 'Oh shit.' His voice was clear now, but still unfamiliar. He gathered that he was American, but his accent he couldn't recognise. He couldn't remember who he was, but he knew what America was? He looked around for something, anything to recognise, now more than a little panicked. The gun on the seat was a Glock 17c, semi/automatic 9x19, issued by FBI on overseas operations, used by somewhere around 40% of the World's law enforcement, popular civilian weapon also. How he knew that, he had no idea.

He rammed his fists once more up into the headrest, to no avail. It wasn't budging. He was stuck. He called for help multiple times, but he would have thought people would have already heard the crash and come running, it can't have happened more than an hour ago. He had to hope that someone was coming for him. 'Help!' He called again. He didn't know who he was, he didn't know where he was, and he was stuck in a smoking sedan with three dead men. He tried not to look at them, not because of their violent death positions, but because of what his mind was doing. He glanced quickly at each of the two visible men and his eyes were instantly drawn to small bulges, then his mind was working out their approximate size, determining that the one in the driver's seat had a gun in his inside coat pocket, and two magazines, and the crumpled man on his right must have been holding the gun during the crash, as he had no gun in his pocket, but one magazine. Then he was scanning the car for where the magazine spare might have fallen, on the ground? Under a seat? Out the window? He had determined somehow that the man in front of him had died of grievous head trauma, which was then followed immediately by a breaking neck. He visualised the situation, the car slamming into the post, the front crumpling, the man's head slamming into the dashboard as it crumpled inwards, snapping his neck backwards and pushing him back into his left hand window. He shuddered. It didn't take a Doctor to know that the man on his right had died of a broken spine, lifted from his seat, perhaps not wearing a seatbelt as he held a gun, perhaps they were involved in a shootout? Perhaps they had been pointing the gun at him? Or another man in the car? Anyway, he had been lifted out of his seat by the impact and thrown into the small gap back wards, as the car crumpled inwards this pushed his spine beyond his legs and broke it. And the man in the Driver's seat had also died of head trauma, there was no visible bruising around his neck. A moan finally snapped his thoughts away from these gruesome images and back into reality. He looked around in case someone else in the car had in fact survived. No, they were all dead. The source was coming from in front of the car. He frowned, looking as best he could through the windscreen, which, under the trauma had been turned from transparent to the blue shards holding on to each other and keeping together like a carpet of broken glass. He looked through a small hole at the pole in front of them and was disgusted by what he saw. Someone was trapped between the bonnet and the pole, and yet they were still alive, when they should have bled to death from being cut in half. He stared, puzzled. The man looked dead, his skin was blue-grey and there were many visible wounds, each finger pointed in a different direction and his neck was flat against his shoulder, and yet his eyes were open and staring at him, his mouth was opening and closing, gnashing his teeth and moaning. He knew he can't have been possibly alive when he smelt the rot however. He looked away, outside his own passenger window, and then jumped and cursed to see another one, less broken but equally rotten and, like the other one, gnashing it's teeth and moaning, scraping it's fingers along his window, trying to get in. This was just wrong, like a lucid dream, a corpse was trying to break into his car. 'Help!' He shouted again and began the process again of slamming his fists into the headrest, upwards, in an attempt to rip it free. Why was he handcuffed?! He slammed his fists up again and pain shot up through his wrists, then he repeated. He needed to get free, it looked like the thing wanted to EAT him! He slammed his fists into the headrest with all his might and it slammed up into the roof and bounced onto the seat next to him. He couldn't do anything about the handcuffs though. His seatbelt was jammed as well. He swore and tugged at the seatbelt, and then, grabbed the handgun and, without stopping, fired two shots, one out the front window, and swinging it against his chest, firing again out his passenger window. The first bullet went through the throat of the gnashing corpse, banging it's head against the telephone pole and ripping a large hole in it's throat, which didn't ooze blood. It was dead, damnit! The corpse on his left had been shot in the forehead and had fallen. He turned the gun on the seatbelt clip then, and with a bang the seatbelt drew back into the roof, releasing him. He looked at the gun in his hand. He didn't know how he knew to use it, and accurately, but he could. He leaned over and pulled a magazine from the crumpled man, and then two from the man in the Driver's seat, and another two from the man in front of him, stuffing them all into his Jacket's pockets. He kicked his crumpled door open and pulled himself out, and then, in a second, he was standing in the middle of the road, gun lowered but ready, looking around for targets. He caught himself, how was he doing this? It was all instinctive reaction, he knew nothing about any of this! He didn't know who he was! He didn't know...Who he was... The adrenaline which had kept him through that encounter had just worn off, he had just realised fully that he was a man with no memory, and then he fainted, falling to the tarmac.

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