Pop quiz: How long does it take to beat a moron to death?

[His bravery brings tears to her eyes. She leans down and takes his hand.]

Would you rather just die? I can't let you...

From:

[O-oh god why does she keep doing that. Aaaand there goes his good hand. Oh well.

Dying? Sure, he's done that. BLU's technology is a crazy thing, and he's respawned plenty of times. But he's used taking a sudden rocket to the face, or a sneak attack sticky bomb. Quick stuff. Not, you know, his lungs slowly filling with blood.]

_{Augh. Fuck. ...Yeah. 'S no big.}

From:

[She didn't injure that hand! She's just... being affectionate. Which is terrifying to everyone, right? But this is ~Armstrong friendship~, and fortunately you will never have to see it again.

She's called for help. If someone arrives to repair his wounds, fine. If not, she gets to be mildly traumatized somewhere under that perfectly even, ice-cold facade.]

From:

[After receiving an urgent call from Olivia (http://wristsniper.livejournal.com/3403.html?thread=383051#t383051), he immediately ran out his door and drove to her house. He saw Scout on the porch and ran to his side. He's seen wounds like this before and they never ended well.

Once Ichabod realized the wound, he didn't ask how it was received but instead checked his pulse and put his hands on the his chest to check for the broken rib.]

Scout! Can you hear me?

[He looked up at Olivia.]

How long was he like this?

Edited Date: 2010-04-16 04:50 am (UTC)

From:

[Olivier steps back, arms crossed a bit uneasily.]

He was injured when I arrived, but I may have made it far worse. His arm should be fine, but there's internal bleeding.

Please don't let him die! I could never forgive myself, even if he will come back!

From:

[He listens to Scout's chest with his ear to it and finds that the heart seems fine before pulling open the shirt to see the massive bruising.]

He has a broken rib.

[He feels with his hand, pressing along the abdomen to check where the bleeding could be.]

This is going to really hurt....

Internal bleeding needs to be stopped at the source. I will need to move him to the bath tub.

[Yeah, he just noticed the weird angle on Scout's leg and moved to set that first. There will be lots of bruising if it's not already there now.]

He needs proper medical care that I may not be able to give.

Scout? I need you to answer me. I'm here to help you but I cannot if I do not know where you are injured. Heavens is he a mess.

[Nonchalant can't describe his tone. It's pretty much all business.]

From:

[Scout barely notices Crane there until he pokes at the broken ribs. Then he yelps, and the pain brings his mind into focus for a moment.

Suddenly there's a hand around Crane's collar, and Scout's face right up in his. He's trying to focus to see who it is, but doesn't recognize him.]

You... ain't a drone are ya? Look. Just finish... me off. We...respawn, right? In a day, all fine right? I'm used ta this. Died a hundred times. Ain't... nothin...

[He let's go of your collar and flops back over, coughing.] _{'N Christ, do not let her ....touch me.... 's gotten inta....}

From:

[His eyes widened then returned to normal quickly from being startled.]

I assure you I am no drone. I am Ichabod Crane.

[He's never encountered anything like it where death is just like any other though coming back from the dead to him was the same as being a ghost.]

If you are referring to the afterlife in some strange manner, I suppose it is possible though highly frowned upon.

[Oh did he have a ton of questions now.]

I'm sorry, are you asking me to...k-kill you?

[That wasn't a first time he was asked that but it was the first time he's heard it here.]

From:

No, BLU company... all part 'a the job, right? Die all the time. Respawn. Ain't nothin'. Can't stay dead... I got a contract. [He manages a strangled bitter laugh before he starts coughing.]

Yeah, I am. What, ya scared? [devilish grin]

Upstairs. [He waves his non-broken hand in the direction of the house behind him.] Pistol in tha desk drawer. _{Don't let... make sure Ai ain't around, awright?...Just a kid....}

From:

I am not scared.

[He put on a brave face for that one. He did as Scout asked and moved upstairs to retrieve the pistol. It looked very odd to him but he figured it out fairly quickly that the barrel slides back with a few moments of study. It seemed very futuristic to him but practical at the same time.

He checked all the rooms before he came back down. Mercy killings happened in the battlefield all the time when the situation was too hopeless and he's seen it happen before. He came back down with the pistol on his back held by the belt.

He felt as if he was being tested on many levels. Not only through his moral beliefs which cried out "Don't do it" there was the part of him that knew that Olivia was watching but the injuries were too great to handle by himself. Patching up the guy was fine. It was the lack of painkillers, the lack of surgical tools and the lack of the proper facilities that had him thinking all over again that he could be pegged for murder without justification should this be discovered.]

Are you absolutely certain that you will return from the dead after this? Once the trigger is pulled, there is no turning back on both sides, on mine and yours.

[He needed the affirmation for himself which seemed very strange and new to him and coming back seemed very unlikely in his mind. Then he thought of the internal bleeding. He's never known anyone to survive that.]

From:

[People respawned here, right? He's heard that a lot since he's gotten here. Rotten ridiculous respawn time of 24 hours, but still.

They came back, right?

He does look apprehensive for a moment, but then does his best to shoot Crane a grin.] Better 'n... drownin' in yer own blood, pally. Just... don't get yer ass droned... okay? Respawn's better.... than weeks in recovery. Trust me.... I know.

From:

[Olivier looked at the entire scene with wide eyes and a dead look of horror. Were she unaffected by the event, she wouldn't be bothered. Now, though? Permanent psychological damage.]

Don't...

[She holds out a hand to stop Crane. Is it futile?]

From:

[He puts away the pistol and gives a stern gaze back to Scout.]

She's right.

[He closed his eyes for a moment and put the pistol away.]

No, I dare not take the chance for either of us. If by chance that you are not brought back, think of the damage that seeing your body broken and shot would cause to the child in your home.

I'll do my best to patch you. You can swear at me all you like. My moral fiber will not allow such an easy way through provided by assisted suicide.

[It was then he began to work to set the rib which he lifted Scout's arm.]

The pain will be a reminder not to make poor decisions again.

[Then the pop. He set it with thick tape and wrapped his torso in the stuff.]

If it is only a punctured lung you suffer, you will bruise and the site will be tender for some time though your lungs should be able to repair themselves. Puncturing the cage will only cause a collapse and you can certainly die from that. You're able to breathe and you will need to refrain from moving at least for a short while.

[As he worked, he looked over the rest of his body and started moving toward the leg. He positioned himself away from the good one in case of getting kicked.]

Hate me all you like for this.

From:

[He struggles against Crane, but he's running out of energy, and considering this is Scout, that's sort of impressive. There's a whole lot wrong with Scout at the moment - not just the broken bones but also blood loss and a concussion. He lets out a yelp when the rib's set back in place, and then practically growls at you, amidst the labored breathing.]

It WASN'T my goddamn fault. Mayfield thought it was be.... so friggin' hilarious... ta give me my speed back.... an' then make it go away just as... I was jumpin'. Fuckin' fell.... 3 stories... an' landed on my face... at a hundred miles an hour.

Then there was... shit, a LOT of other stuff. Spy. Solly. My neighbor. Her. [He cocks his head to indicate Olivier, then he just lays his head back and stares up.]

Goddamnit I hate this town.

From:

[The fight was a good sign to him. It means that his lungs weren't badly damaged but bruised badly enough that it would cause labored breathing. He was glad for this. The information was a bit shocking to him that anyone who was going that fast should have died on impact but here he was still alive and very conscious.]

The human body is a remarkable thing indeed. You'll be fine in a matter of weeks though killing you would be easier, as you say.

This town...everything that it stands for is not to be taken so seriously when powers return, I fear.

[He sets the splint and moves to check his eyes.]

Your pupils have dilated. A sign of concussion. I will need you to stay awake lest you slip into a coma from the swelling.

I will stay to observe you and I will explain to the family what has happened. You needn't be stressed during recovery. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to have fluids while your lungs are healing. You can have ice and you can eat as normal. Soup is recommended.

[He needed to get Scout to the bed but moving him with the broken rib was going to be difficult. He started checking for open wounds that seemed life threatening.]

From:

Yeah, well... wouldn't be in... my line 'a work... if somethin' like... a fall'd stop me.

[He recoils a bit.] Weeks?! [coughcough] Doc I ain't got WEEKS! Me 'n' that team... coupla days, we got plans happenin'...

[Besides what Crane already found out, and the bone Olivier already set in his arm, Scout just had a lot of bruises and abrasions, some cracked bones and a broken nose. But that last one's happened so many times in his life, he barely noticed.]

I CAN'T sit around. Not after this. Shit. I am gonna... fuck this town up so hard...

From:

[Satisfied that there are no more major injuries to settle and confident that his abrasions are not any more than just ugly road rash that will sting more than being life threatening, he looked to Scout.]

I'm sorry but your plans may have to be postponed or adjusted.

[He lifted up Scout after he opened the doors to bring him inside.]

From:

Ok. No. I can't. Shit. After crap like this....I can't just be layin' around. I gotta get... the hell outta here.

[He can't really help but be brought inside. But oh lord, is he ever MORTIFIED. If anyone from his team - or even worse, any REDs - saw him like this, they'd never let him down. To make matters worse, now he was going to be stuck at home with a recently-droned wife.]

_{...goddamnit.}

From:

[Olivier follows them both, her expression strangely going from somber to angry as her side-effect subsides. She can parse out that Scout is injured, and from her presence and what pieces she knows clearly, she is certain she had something to do with it. There's the slightest bit of femininity hiding inside her, and she gently elbows in, taking Scout from Crane and helping him to a fine resting place.

Now, she has a plan. She's sure Scout will approve.]

It's my fault, Mr. Crane. I'll watch over him. I do have some experience with field medicine.

From:

[He allowed Olivier to take his place and nodded. It seemed strange to him at first until he noticed that her demeanor has returned to normal and backed away.]

Yes, I suppose it is for that best that you tend to him. He seems to know you better than me, it appears. I must return home. It is getting late and thank you for your relief, General.

[He didn't want to barge in any more than he already has and the reality has set in that Scout needed much more than he could offer. He only hoped that Scout would survive the night though the extent of the injuries were far harder to tell without the right tools which he didn't have. He took another look over his shoulder and gave a nod before he left the house, leaving Scout in Olivier's care.]

From:

[She waits until Crane is gone, then crouches near Scout. She's examining his wounds, calculating a rough estimate on recovery time... and making sure no one else is around. She speaks in hushed tones, with gravity and conviction.]

Scout. It would be faster to do this the other way, wouldn't it?

[In one hand, she's holding the pistol Crane retrieved. The other rests on her sword. Both of these are out of Scout's immediate view.]

From:

[Scout's now lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He's sort of fed up with life, the universe and everything right now. For the first time since he got here, at least for the moment, Mayfield has finally managed to sink his usually boundless confidence.

He's not exactly thrilled with Olivier at the moment either.]

Whatever. I don't care. Goddamnit I.... hate this place.

From:

[...She's not exactly thrilled with him, suddenly. Maybe she'd felt apologetic, or obligated, but now she's just pissed.]

Pull it together and make a decision, Scout. You lay here and recover normally, or you let me do the mercy strike. I'm a soldier, but I'm also human; I have a conscience, and I won't kill you if you don't ask for the service.

You can repay me in kind when you're up and moving again. So decide.

From:

[He sits up painfully and looks her square in the eyes, sternly.]

Awright. Fine. Let's do this. Get it over with.

From: