Figured I'd send you all of these so that they'd get posted at the same time and not the last before the first. :) Scorpion (Medstate) If the world were more cruel a place, calling this one 'cracked' would be an understatement. Spiderweb fractures seem to radiate from a central point upon her forehead, turning a nasty purple against her skin. The right arm has been rather well sliced through, so well, in fact, that even the bone is severed, only a thin scrap of flesh holding it on. Her breathing is ragged, chest bent at a rather odd and unnatural angle, and her entire form is peppered with bleeding, crystal filled pockmarks. In addition to all of this, her pupils are dilated, and slowing their motions with every breath that she takes. Taylor (Medstate) [Hmm...where to begin on this one? Starting at the top, a rather large and somewhat...wall-shaped dent has been made in the left side of her skull, shards of bloody bone, gore, and jelatinous tissue oozing out from the cracks and matting her hair quite nicely. Shards...shards, shards of crystal also poke through her skin, forming an interesting mosaic-type pattern of blood, flesh, and silicon substance, all along her hands, arms, and nearly every other patch of skin. One wrist is bent at a rather odd angle, the joint about the consistency and color of cherry gelatin, while the other sports a rather nasty bruise. Then, the truely horrible injury, her left leg has been, well, removed. A sharp spike of bone, the remnent of her femur, protrudes from the hip, surrounding by the still writing mass of bloodvessles, both crimson and blue, and the shredded, tenderised remnains of the muscle bunchings, as well as the occasional twitching nerve fiber. Being around Taylor is disconcerting from the static coming off her. Taylor says "Help?" Taylor mewls again, hoping that someone outside will hear her.. "Help?" >From outside the sled, Feyr walks up to the opened vent, there to stare into the sled, "You okay?" How much of a stupid question is that, but then, this Sorter was never known for her world knowledge. Feyr has arrived. Taylor's voice becomes frantic, "Help us!" A bloodied hand reaches for the dark figure.. "Help us," she rasps, her eyes rolling back into her head. Feyr scans the interior of the sled, trying to ignore the lurching in her stomach at what she sees, one hand immediately going to her comm-unit, summoning a medic. "Oh by all the Holy Darkness." A quiet breathed prayer. She grasps at a shred of anger to hold herself together, "Stupid singers and their nardling claims. Couldn't stay home like sane people." Feyr speaks urgently into her wrist unit, summoning a MediTech. Scorpion is, well, unconscious. To say the least. To say the most, if she doesn't get medical attention soon, she's going to be dead. Her breath barely comes at all now, gasping each time she inhales. >From outside the sled, Elrick has arrived. Feyr starts mumbling prayers, to whatever odd powers it is she worships, "By the Shadows and the Night invested in me, I beg to bring these back. They have further purposes to serve, and higher causes to deal with. Let them, too, be turned to Prophesy, as I was." Elrick has arrived. Taylor flops a little as she tries to sit up, totally unaware that her leg is gone, "Help me, help us.." She reaches out to Feyr, a bloodied hand grasping onto Feyr's clothing desperately. Elrick pulls himself into the sled, one handed. He pauses at the entrance, lavender eyes flicking across the area in a cursory gesture. Feyr hunches up against the cartons as someone else steps into the light in the sled's entranceway, horrified gaze going to the clawing hand, "Oh my. Help?" Blood slowly begins to seep from Scorpion's nose, lips and ears as the pressure inside her skull grows stronger, brain swelling from whatever injury it is she sustained. She lies pale and motionless, half buried beneath Taylor. Which undoubtedly isn't helping matters. With complete clinical detachment, Elrick moves first to one then the other, scanning with one hand while removing and tapping open the familiar field surgery kit with the other. Seperating the two bodies, he begins what can only be described as triage on them, examining one quickly, then moving on. The entire process takes less than a minute, a minute which the meditech seems not to change expressions once, nor even waste breath with a word. Feyr stands by the entrance, watching this efficiency with quiet astonishment, "Can.... Can I help? Are they gonna die?" One hand fumbles at the belt pouch she carries. Taylor's hand slowly releases Feyr's clothing and she flops backwards with a gutteral moan of exhaustion, the trembling of shock starting in, "Scorp, stay still.. don't move," she cries out, fear blazing in her eyes as she watches Elrick's form lean over her friend. Taylor's one good hand searches for a weapon, thinking she's still in the ranges and Elrick's the beast.. hand coming in contact with part of a mangled cutter, she attempts to swing it at Elrick. Beyond fear. Terror. Hell, Scorpion is beyond moving. Her breathing slows more still, barely managing to pump enough air to her body. But hey, if nothing else, at least it slows the bleeding down a little. "Eventually...." comes the quiet, deadpan response as the medic continues working. He pauses, a split second of indecision, then begins to work on Scorpion first. Tearing open the front of the singer's top, he runs his fingers very lightly along the ribs. For the first time, a faint frown appears on his lips, banished in an instant. Glancing up to Feyr, he utters in a voice that really doesn't brook much argument "You...c'mere..." the look up is just enough to catch Taylor's movement, and...considering he's healthy and she's not, he manages to dodge out of the way, sending the back of a fist to her jaw, full force. Taylor's head snaps back and she flops once, then goes absolutely still.. blessed unconciousness. Paying no more attention to the Singer once she goes down, in fact, reacting as if nothing had transpired, Elrick turns back to Scorpion. With a simple "Hold her down." To Feyr, he withdraws a long, thin tube from the surgery kit. Blood. Blood. And more blood. That's about all anyone can see when they look at Scorpion now. Bleeding from every orifice, she slips further into oblivion and closer to death with each breath. Feyr kneels gingerly beside the bloody mass that was once a Singer. "Doesn't look like she'll need much holding..." A shrug, surely the Medic knows best, even the hard reputation of this one. She reaches out her arms, holding whatever bits of the Singer she comes into contact with. Taking that tube in one hand, Elrick stabs it upward beneath Scorpion's ribcage, puncturing the damaged lung. Fluids, both white and red, begin almost immediately to flow from the end. Then, wasting again no time, he rests his palms upon either side of the singer's chest, and makes a quick compressing motion, all the way down, snapping ribs back into place. Taylor mewls pitifully but stays blissfully unawares. Feyr bites down, hard, on her lower lip, the acidic bile rising up her throat at the sight combined with the dreadful sound. Mindless chatter spills from her mouth, "Man am I glad I'm not a Singer. The Lords were kind when they made me their Prophet. This stupidity seems to happen more often than not. She should have kept her token, then she would have known." You know..for all the pain that should have caused..Scorpion has no reaction. Well, unless you count the faintest twitch of her unbroken fingers. Elrick still remains silent, working in almost grim determination. As if fighting time itself...perhaps he is...perhaps it is simply the way he was trained, Elrick continues moving at, pardon the pun, breakneck speed. The ribs reset, the drainage tube removed, the resulting hole is patched with a quick flick of a dermal stapler. Taylor shifts in her unconciousness, and a small thunk can be heard.. a black, slicked stone rolls out of Taylor's pocket. Feyr catches sight of the black rock from the corner of her eye, "The token." A breathy whisper. She turns her head fully, glad of the distraction from the gore-filled work before her, "So why did this happen?" Surely a rhetorical question. "Why not?" is the dry, somewhat bored answer from the meditech as he continues working. Now to the arm. Resetting that bone, he daubs it with a thin white paste, allowing that to set for a moment, then, with a thin blade, he removes the hanging shreds of flesh, finally binding the whole in clean, plasti-coated bandages. Bound to answer the medic, more from surprise than anything else, Feyr replies, "They had the token. They swore it would keep the bearer safe. From harm! From whatever did-this- to them." A further swallow. Down, stomach, down! Elrick considers his handiwork, snarling faintly to himself at the set of the broken arm. Without so much as another thought of it, he draws the short bladed sword from behind his hip, and hacks the limb off, just above the bandaging, with a clean, simple stroke. "Well..I suppose it didn't exactly _Work_, now did it?" The pool of blood beneath Scorpion's head spreads. And for an instant, a short instant, there is motion. But probably not the good kind. She convulses. Violently. And then begins to shiver and shake. Falling ominously still the next instant. That's it, Feyr's gone, the contents of her stomach emptied off to one side, joining the mess on the blood-slicked floor. Loud retching the only answer Elrick will get for a while. Rebandaging the singer formerly known as 'Scorpion', now, probably more aptly named 'Lefty', Elrick then moves to the other wound, the one on her head. As if debating a point for a moment, he takes another small needle from the medipack. Holding her forehead down, he scans her head, then inserts this just barely into the center of the fracture. Feyr, getting her wretched stomach back into control, wipes her mouth with the back of one blood-smeared hand, leaving a streak behind. "Gah... Is it... always this bad?" She leaves her crisis of faith well alone for now. "No..." then, the predictable answer, as the fluid begins to drain too from Scorpion's brain "Sometime's it's worse..." Taylor coughs, chokes on her own spit, blood and a spare tooth... body wracking for a few moments before she gets her breath. She stays unconcious, which is probably more of a blessing than anything else. Feyr steadfastly keeps her stomach lining down, watching the procedure with the horrified fascination one gets for the grisly, "Ah." The one answer. The only answer. Her head swivels to look over at Taylor, the sound catching her attention. Well, that's nice. At least Scorpion won't be pained by broken fingers now. Not that such a trivial problem really would have made an impact. If she manages to pull through the brain hemmoraging, she just may make it. If. Appearantly satisifed with the draining, Elrick turns now to Taylor. Considering her for a long moment, he first starts with what's left of the leg. Yanking the remnant's of the femur from the mess, he then hacks clean away the dangling flesh and...assorted other tissue, bandaging this as he did Scorpion's arm. Taylor, jarred from her blissful state of unawareness, lets a scream tear from her bruised lungs. "Oh gods, kill me!" Panting for breath, she scratches at the bloodied floor as if trying to get away. Elrick shakes his head, rolling his eyes upwards "Sorry, not on _my_ watch..." this is followed by the only sort of anasthetic this medic has ever been known to prescribe...another strike to the side of the head. A faint groan escaping her, Feyr abruptly stands, hastily moving through the cartons and bodily debris which litter the sled to the entrance where she heaves in great gulpfuls of clean air. Green of face, she almost resembles Kesya. Taylor does as prescribed and is knocked cold. Jaw bruised, with a few more missing teeth, she drools out the side of her slack mouth. Feyr blurts out, "I'll get more help." Yes, that's a prime excuse for getting away from this awful scene. Not waiting for a reply, she slips from the sled, still gulping in air. Feyr has left. Elrick doesn't seem to notice the departure of the sorter, still working upon the remnants of singers. "Hm...wonder if I could put these both together and make one..." he comments idly to himself as he prods a bit at Taylor's wrist, then, quite simply, tears the hand off at the shredded flesh, as if it were made of melted butter. Taylor isn't gonna wake up for this for nuthing, wills herself to stay unconcious it would seem. In a pool of her own blood, she's at the complete mercy? of this medic. Driiiiip. Driiiip. Drip. Now really, Scorpion is usually not very talkative, but even that would most likely be preferable to the sounds coming from her still form at this moment. The steady splattering of oozing blood from cuts and gashes too numerous for the symbiont to heal. It's too busy struggling just to keep her alive. It's a wonder she's not in shock... The bloody stump is bandaged rather quickly, in fact, perhaps a grand total of twenty minutes has passed since the medic arrived here, if that. Scanning over Taylor's head and eyes, he nods faintly to himself, then binds it tightly in white gauze, doing the same for the bruises upon her other arm. Finally, he almost dances away from her, going back to Scorpion. A wonder she's not in shock? A wonder, considering the gore and related products about the sled, not to mention the _smell_, that he's not lost his lunch yet. Working now, still as quickly, the medics hands are a blur, pulling and prying bits of crystal from all over the singer's hide. Shaking his head in resignation, Scorpion's entire jumpsuit is removed, the interference of the cloth appearantly lessening considerably. Finally, the stapeler goes to work again, shutting off the larger holes. Then, El gets around to bandaging the head, compressing it to prevent further swelling...as if Scorpion didn't have a swell head to begin with. Now, for all that, there remains the fact that...One would probably rather be the medic, rather be the singer...than be the recruit required to clean up this sled later. Taylor lifts her stump up, blocking her face as if trying to avoid phantom blow to the head. "Don't hurt me," she whimpers in her now semi-concious state. Finally, one singer patched. The other half. Elrick moves over to Taylor, favoring her with exactly the same treatment, stripdown, full body search for bits of crystal and other injuries. Gods, the man has no soul, if he is a man at all...considering what is laid out before him he works on each as if a piece of meat...then again, perhaps that's all he considers them. That's cool. These coma things aren't half bad. At least Scorpion is spared the embarrasment of realising her sudden state of undress. Not that she has anything to be embarrased about, mind you. But still.... The danger of death from loss of blood brought to a semi halt by Elrick's attention to her wounds, all the symbiont has to work on now is repatching the internal damage the singer has sustained. Taylor is basically a slab of meat now, ground and spit out like hamburger, uncerimonious in any way shape or form. The only dignity she has is what the medic provides her, not that he would give a rats ass one way or another being so cold and frigid as he is. Scorpion(Medstate 2) Bandages here, bandages there, bandages bandages everywhere. Well, it seems that someone's took it into his or her head to replace the vast majority of this singer's anatomy with just that, bandages. Her head is bandaged, what's left of her right arm, cut off at the shoulder, is bandaged, she is well bandaged about the torso and stomach, and what's not bandaged is still peppered with small cuts, stapled shut, yet some still bleeding just a little. She is, quite easily, upon death's door, breathing severe, punctured lung repaired, as best as possibly could, cracked ribs reset, yet still in horrible condition. Taylor (medstate 2) [Someone seems to have decided that certain parts of this singer's body might be good for a snack, and removed them without first paying her the courtesy of hunting and killing her first. A wing here, a drumstick there...but in truth, one arm is removed, just about midway along the forearm, and one leg is completely severed at the hip. Her head is bandaged in a most protective fashion, and several bruises cover her body. Likewise, it appears as if fragments have been pulled from her skin, as there is the mark of a dermal stapler nearly along every inch or so. She is, it seems, only half concious at any given time, breathing shallow, but regular, and for all the work done, it seems that there was a little brain damage, and for the most part her vital signs are just barely the minimum to still be considered 'alive'...now, 'animal' or 'vegetable' is another matter completely. Being around Taylor is disconcerting from the static coming off her. Elrick rising after what appears to be an eternity, but, by any clock in the guild, is probably about half an hour, Elrick considers both of you, then, after summoning a gurney, slowly, but surely, runs the tip of his tongue along each of his fingers, one, after the other, after the other. Y'know. Sometimes being unconscious isn't a bad thing... Naked and bloody as the day she was born, or perhaps even more of the latter, her body trembles with the cold of shock. Finally, you are wheeled into an actual hospital type thing, and transferred to an actual bed type thing, where you are hooked up to various monitor and life-support type things by orderly....type things. That done, Elrick turns on the tip of one boot, and heads out of the area. Well hell, with all these type things going on about her person, Scorpion really has no choice but to start getting better, hmm? Not that she's going to. Not for a long time, no doubt. Sure, the injuries will heal. But will her psyche be able to stand up to another attack from the range monster? Or will our super singer find herself trapped in a mire of bad memories and nightmares? Stay tuned... Taylor is sure to have feelings of shame and harbor many resentments, needing years of counselling and much angst management to not want to take certain measures to exact revenge on the one person who gave her no dignity whatsover.. note that at least the part of her brain that wasn't damaged was her memory. Silence falls, well mostly, as the orderlies depart, leaving the two badly injured singers along with only the bleepblipping of their monitors piercing the silence. Along with, of course, the mingled sounds of raspy, tortured breathing.