event: break, day 6

[mayfield_mods]

[Welcome to the Factory.

A blackened, dilapidated building sitting on the edge of town, it seems to have appeared out of nowhere overnight. It is surrounded by an electrified fence; should anyone on the outside (or the inside) try to cross it, they will find themselves repelled by the force with painful electric shocks. No amount of strength, size, magic, or flying ability will get you past the fence.

The Factory itself looks like it's been through hell. It's falling apart on the outside. Half of the building looks collapsed. The bricks are scorched. All of the window frames are rusted. It certainly doesn't look like a place that should be up and running, but it is. Dr. Johnson and her team are scurrying around the building, performing treatments, operations, and experimentations- making 'improvements'.

Following your treatment and/or surgery, you wake up- or don't- in a filthy room. It's nothing like the fairly sterile surgery room had been. You're crammed in there with dozen other 'patients', each in varying stages of recovery.

You're probably in moderate to severe pain. The pain might be so great that you are incapable of moving. Perhaps some of your limbs are missing or maybe you find huge gaps in your memory. Maybe you're very sick with some disease you don't recall developing. Either way, you were sent in for 'improvements', and you've been 'improved' as much as Dr. Johnson thinks you needed.

If they're lucid enough, the other patients will probably talk to you. You'll find that, like you, they're all non-drone townspeople.

You'll be contained here for 24 hours. Following that, you'll be released. When you leave the building, you'll find yourself outside the hospital in Mayfield with the Factory nowhere to be seen.

The Factory rooms are as follows:

Recovery: A large recovery room with dozens and dozens of gurneys and beds. It's filled with equipment like IVs and medical charts. This is where all characters will wake up. It's very unsanitary in here.

Operating room: Where you endured your surgery, treatment, and/or experiment. All operating and medical supplies are still here. Dr. Johnson is nowhere to be found.

Supply room: Standard medical supplies are found here. They include typical doctors' equipment, bandages, medicines, and the like. There's nothing particularly strong or lethal here, nor is there anything sharp which could be used as a weapon.

Lobby: The front lobby of the Factory. Designed like a hospital lobby, it also contains the waiting room. Dated 1950s magazines are strewn everywhere.

Today, February 1st, the following characters will be brought to the factory following their operations:


Desty Nova
Sin
Kotomi Ichinose
Latvia
Len Kagamine
RED Engineer
Satomi Usagi
Fran Madaraki
Django
Captain Marvelous
Karkat Vantas
Code:Emperor
Dakki Sigal
Doc Scratch
Lyra Bark
Rin Kaenbyou
Caesar Silverburg
Tara
Sexy
Jade Harley
Tyve Russell-Rasmusse



[ooc; The Factory post will be used for IC interactions for the 24 hours that your character will be made to stay. They are free to interact with other patients before their release. Only the above characters should reply to this post.

The mods will respond to the sign-up comments of the above characters to let them know the results of their surgery.]

Comments

[crusthatecean]

[He wakes up groggy several hours after the surgery, the combined effect of the drugs and several days without sleep having served to knock him out as soon as his ordeal was finished. Even so, it's a wonder he managed any sleep at all, considering the severe pain he's in; he must have been feeling sleep deprivation more than he thought.

The first thing he notices is the way everything stays dark even when he opens his eyes. That doesn't surprise him. The very last thing he saw, when he still saw his eyes, were the eyes she was planning to put in him, and the memory hits him again suddenly and hard only this time he's able to fucking move, and he moves to turn to his side and vomit over the edge of the bed. He can't move far because his wrists are trapped above him, pinned beneath a heavy burning weight, the source of his pain. He's always been good with dealing with physical pain, but this is something else entirely, it hurts and it hurts so much he can't think for his arms and head throbbing, and although he never actually saw her put it on, thanks to Terezi's eyes in his head, he knows exactly what it is.

He knows exactly what it is because he's been paying attention and he knows what she likes is jokes. It's a fucking hilarious joke, he decides. Hilarious, funnier than the rotting sea dweller gills on the Signless. The shitty mock royal and the shitty mock martyr will be a perfect matching set.

He wants it off and he wants these things out of his head but he refuses to scream or cry because even if she's already taking most of it (and isn't the humiliation of being laughed at, of being reduced to nothing like this, the worst part of all) he won't let her have every scrap of his dignity.

He'll lie still with his unseeing eyes wide open and grind his fangs to the throbs from the cuffs.]

[roadrolling]

[Len is biting down hard on a mouthful of cloth, and pressing more to both sides of his head. there were no bandages readily available, at least none that he can find - ultimately he'd had to press the thin bedsheet into service, ripping it up into rags to staunch the bleeding. The one thing he remembers from his disastrous failure at saving the drone woman is pressure, everyone told him to apply pressure, and so he's doing that. He's doing that as hard as he can.

While he's doing that, he's also searching for some kind of exit. But what he finds instead is Karkat.

The troll is unfamiliar to him. The troll's species is unfamiliar to him, for that matter. But those are trifling concerns next to the glowing hot shackles around his wrists.

Len rushes to Karkat's side, letting the rags over his removed ears fall away. The bleeding there wasn't so severe, anyway.

Something, something... there has to be something he can use to get these shackles off.]

[echidna]

[ She remembers it, all of it- or at least she thinks she does. She can remember seeing things, hearing whispers, feeling the occasional shudder of pain that slipped through the haze of the drug she had been administered.

Once she's brought into the recovery room she keeps to herself, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her tears. Every time she catches a glimpse of her softly glowing skin she lets out a wail, and shifts restlessly in her bed.

It's quite difficult to ignore her cries, especially when her bed is right beside his. ]

[roadrolling]

[sedation is nothing like sleep.

Len feels vaguely betrayed and not-at-all-vaguely horrified at that realization, once he's awake enough to have it. He'd told himself as she prepped the needle, as the sharp point slid into his fragile human flesh, and as the world started to go spinny and dim, that it would be just like falling asleep. That was the only way he'd managed not to scream.

He doesn't feel like he's slept, though. He feels like he died. he clutches at the thin sheet covering him to still his shaking. It's all right. He's alive. He's alive.

His lips feel dry, his mouth oddly thick and grimy and sore. He tries to lick his lips to ease that cracked, dry feeling, only to realize he has nothing to lick with.

She took his tongue.

He presses his hands to his face, panicking. Eyes still intact, nose intact, no other horrible cuts or scars - and then he feels wetness and pain when he feels for where his ears should be, and that's when he finally screams.]

[flan4science]

[Nova, while trying to keep his crazy robot arm in check, waltzes over to his not!son.]

My my! It looks like they did a real number on you!

[hardhat_truckie]

[Screaming. He could really do without screaming. But he did his own fair share just a few hours ago, so if he'd bothered anyone in this room with it, then he guess he shouldn't really complain. It's more of the fact that it's a young boy who's freaking out that reaches out to his nearly dead emotions. He pulls himself together and heads over, the metal wings behind him scrapping the ground with the tips. His own throat is still recovering from his near constant screaming, so when he speaks, his voice is strained and soft. But he does try his best to be comforting and to smile for the kids:]

S-son. S'al...alright. Stay calm. What did she do to ya?

[photonicfighter]

...Rin?

[That blonde figure over there, that was Rin, wasn't it? As the realization hit Dakki, her out-of-control body seemed to realize it too, and it took unsteady-but-hasty steps towards him.

Him. Yes, upon getting close enough, she realized that she was looking at a boy, not a girl. That would have stopped her short, but the stuff that possessed her just picked up some speed.]

No, you're not Rin, but...

...aah! No!

[Her possessed right arm lifted, pointing the assault rifle that replaced her hand at the boy who was not Rin. Then it lowered it slightly... then lifted it again, as though confused.]

[cueball]

[He was awake the entire time.

But not once did he scream. Horrified? Only once. When she began opening up his skull and proding his mind. His head was always an important thing for him, human or cueball. It was his center, his identifier and where he safely guarded his Master for over centuries until the clock struck zero. He was thankful to know that the Lord was not bonded to him in advance, otherwise he would be in a far greater panic over her cracking it.

That did not change what she did. If he was in a more proper state of mind, he would call it clever. A twisted sort of clever, with how she seemed to almost personalize each experiment in some manner. Maybe give her a 'touche' or a nod of recognition. He doubts she would care, but right now? He doubted everything. So much of his motor skills felt like they slipped away. Not the normal ones, like how to walk or how to talk, but the ones more specific to him. How to rend the space of the universe around him and summons the warm flames of the Green Sun into his hands. He could feel the sun and yet not recall how to summon it into his palms. Something he has known to do since he began existing.

And now he lays slumped in the gurney, wearily glancing at everyone he can see through his blurry vision, without saying a word. What were they thinking? He didn't know. His omniscience was too limited to tell. But, he knew what he was thinking. And he was sure that everyone could hear. That, without saying a word, he could spill out millions of his thoughts. Yet, as he tried to silence his mind and thought, he felt himself ready to fall asleep. Everything in his mind (they can all hear you, shut up already!) was telling him to not. That sleeping could lead to something horrible. He didn't sleep during the surgery, so why sleep after it? Only a fool would fall asleep right now, when they are the most vulnerable!

...Still, he closed his eyes and tried to count in his mind (everyone hears--) and tries to relax. Try being the keyword. And yet he feels that his mind is so loud, so horrifically loud that it may just be easier to count out the numbers. That maybe it would empty the thoughts that everyone can so clearly hear if he just says them himself.]

One....Two....Three....Four....Five--

[He continues to count from there, letting out a number every few seconds. His voice is not at a normal level of sound at all, but it is not quite a whisper. Just enough so that maybe the sound of his voice can distract from the sound of his thoughts]

[bleuflag]

[The voice that Sin heard quietly counting as he tried to stop his head from spinning rang through as familiar to him, and familiarity was a welcome thing to cling to in his disoriented state. He was still woozy, but he managed to sit up in his stretcher, glance around the room for the source of the voice, and upon spotting it leapt out of and stumbled from his bed to just about pounce to the side of the bed from which the familiar voice had come.]

[He didn't even know the man's name, but for some reason the prospect of familiarity suddenly filled with him with a great happiness he couldn't explain.]

You're the guy that was talking about that soul-powered machine, aren't you? I recognize your voice!

[..There was something bizarrely excited and lilted about the young man's voice, cheery despite their surroundings, and despite the more confident, laid-back tone he'd exhibited in their previous conversation. It was bordering on unnatural.]

[crusthatecean]

[At first he thinks the counting is in his head. He counts along to himself. He's burning, he won't stop burning, and it's all he can do to think of anything besides the flesh around his wrists that hurts so much.

But he doesn't think in Scratch's voice, he doesn't do anything in Scratch's voice, and he wants that voice out of his head.

And then it hits him, still groggy and stiff from the drugs though he may be. Scratch is in here, too. Scratch is weak and vulnerable and suffering and trapped here with Karkat fucking Vantas and though he may be weak and vulnerable too, and so hurting and afraid he feels like he's nothing, he's still a threat, he's still a threat, and Scratch is one more person who discarded him and discounted him as though he doesn't matter and he never should have fucking done that to Karkat Vantas.

He struggles to get to his feet. He sways, the pain is making him dizzy, he can't see where to put his feet, and the manacles on his hands are so heavy; standing they dig even harder at his flesh and bring more vomit to his throat.

He swallows and he follows the sound of the counting. He's not as skilled as navigation as his friends who have become accustomed to blindness, but it isn't hard to walk gingerly and sidestep the beds and it isn't hard to hear the sound of the counting growing closer until suddenly it is right there.]

Doc Scratch?

[flan4science]

[Desty Nova is used to pain and injury. So having an arm cut off isn't exactly the end of the world for him. Nova looks over himself in the recovery room. His right arm has been replaced with a fully mechanical one. Not nearly as advanced as the ones from his time of course, but still it will-

uh oh

His new robot arm is strangling him. That's not good.

Nova will now be grappling with his own arm.]

[hardhat_truckie]

[Have someone else's robotic hand grab your robotic arm to try and pull it off. Engie's weak from his surgery, but he'll be damned if he lets anyone die in this room while he's in it.]

W-what're you doin'!?

[bleuflag]

[He remembers clearly two pricks in the side of his neck, the rest is a blur. Voices, swirling movement around him and muffled voices, bright lights right in his face- when he tried to think about it more clearly it made his head spin and his stomach lurch, so after the first two or three times he stopped to just lie there, and eventually just drifted off into unconsciousness. How long he was unconscious, he wasn't sure.]

[But when he woke up again, the shuffling and voices and the lights are gone, it was only the spinning now, and the faint nausea, and... something, in the back of his mind. It sounded a bit like a voice. At first he didn't realize it was in his head, and tried to listen to it, but it was only a brief--]

[--ill them, kill--]

[He thought he caught it for a moment, like a whisp of smoke, but as soon as he tried to listen to it his stomach lurches and he shoots upward in his rickety recovery cot, grasping onto the side of the stretcher and leaning over the side of it.]

Hurk--

[Yeah, have fun with that, whoever is in the bed next to him. He's not aiming very well while his head is still spinning.]

[sunnydwithagun]

(With all of the victims he's encountered the past several days, it was only a matter of time before he became one. He can't remember how it happened and he can barely remember what happened; all Django knew is that she injected him with things.

With what, he wasn't sure. Even when he tried to get up, he only managed to fall off his bed. He felt weak and sick, but he couldn't just lie there. Not in wherever the hell she dumped him.

He had to get out of that room. He just had to. It took him a lot of effort to open the door, but he did. Several windows lined the hallway and the sun was shining brightly. Maybe he could figure out where he was if he looked outside...

...but then he messed up; he moved too fast and fell over. Right into the beaming sunlight. And then he instantly felt the pain; through Django's eyes, his entire body was on fire. To others, he was just flailing about, but the pain was very real. The pain was excruciating, forcing a nightmarish scream from the boy. That evil woman made him extremely vulnerable to the sun.

He flailed for what felt like minutes, trying to roll out of the sun's path, managing such with no help from the grogginess and nausea. The flames he imagined dissipated, but the burns were still felt. He was meekly crawling on the floor, slumping over as the pain made it so much harder for him to even stand.)

[nyancrophile]

[Rin Kaenbyou isn't one to flinch at the sight of organs.

Day in, day out, she wheels corpses. Some corpses missing organs, some corpses with them hanging out, some corpses perfectly untouched. She's never seen organs move. They've always been nothing but dead, tough, useless tissue, only good for fueling fires.

The very first time Rin Kaenbyou flinches at the sight of organs is when she sees her own. They've been carefully arranged in jars for her, and they're sitting next to her empty body. She can see them moving. Though by all accounts they should've stopped pulsing ages ago, they're still going strong, and somehow Rin gets the sneaking suspicion that's the only reason she's still alive.

Covered in linen as she is, she can't feel anything but her pain and nausea. Not even the cool touch of the gurney underneath her is there to comfort her. Just the feeling of linen wrappings.

She contemplates returning to her cat form to escape them. But she doesn't know what that would do to her body. Without her organs it's too risky to try anything. She can't die. She's going to go back home with all nine of her lives intact, dammit -

At least the kind doctor was nice enough to leave her eyes unwrapped, though the rest of her face is covered in linen. She can still see the ceiling and, if she weren't too sore to move her arms, she has the option of reading the book they've provided her. It's lying next to her, and she can read the title from where she lies.

The Book of the Dead.

She'd laugh if there were anything remotely funny about the situation. As it is, all she can manage is a smirk, hidden behind the soft white cloth.]

[balzams]

[He can barely remember the surgery. Somehow it feels like there should be some kind of hazy memory he could grab at but there was nothing. When he woke up on the gurney he found himself in a state of paralysis, unable to move or scream no matter how much he wanted it. It was probably better that he didn't.

Eventually the drugs started to wear off enough for him to move his arms and legs. Just a twitch at first but soon he was able to rub at his forehead. Everything ached, especially the stitches on his stomach. With a head full of cotton wool it was hard to process what was going on but that definitely wasn't right. Seething as he shifted into a sitting position he fingered at the bottom of his shirt, wondering if he really wanted to know. The anxiety of it was making him feel sick. Latvia's mind never acted as quick as his body though and before he could give the command to stop he'd already hitched it up to reveal the large gash across his stomach.

Somehow the scream got caught in his throat and all that came out was a strained whimper. There was a soft glow just below his ribcage, tinted pink by the layers of skin. So absorbed in his own misfortune he barely notices everyone else around him.]

[hardhat_truckie]

[It seemed to last forever.

When he had first awoken to the smooth tones of that woman, he had tried to escape. He was no fool, he had heard that voice before on the phone, and he knew that now, it was his turn to be put under the knife. Restraints kept him nailed down though, and he had no power to escape. Even the Gunslinger failed to break through the bindings. He was well and truly trapped, and at the mercy of Dr Johnson.

Doctor? No. Monster.

He didn't know how long his own "surgery" had taken, but it had been nothing short of sheer, unimaginable, torture. No painkillers, no anesthetics, and Engie was too proud to ask for any. He screamed. Yes, he did. Screamed till his throat was hoarse and raw, but he would never bend to the enemy. At least, while the only thing she was doing was peeling away skin and flesh. He assumed that she was going to do to him what she had done to Picky: take out his organs, or maybe even replace them. That he could deal with: he was blown up on a daily basis back home, he could deal with a few missing limbs, hell, even a kidney or a liver.

But he had come close to breaking point when she started welding the metal to his bone. He had never suffered so much pain, not even when he was being set aflame by an enemy Pyro. At least the BLU was intent on finishing him off as quick as possible; she seemed happy to draw out the process for as long as she could. All his nerves were literally screaming as the metal merged with his body, and Engie screamed along till he could scream no more. He trashed around in his bonds like a wild animal but to no avail. The drones just slammed him face down on the operating table and pinned him there while she worked. Maybe she was even humming at one point: he couldn't tell. The pain overpowered all his senses, till the only thing he could see, hear, taste, feel, smell, was his own fear, humiliation and suffering. He cried as he had never cried before, and when he had no more tears all he could do was hang his head miserably and scream in silence.

My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

A few hours later, and the surgery was done. By then his whole body was limp, and he offered no more resistance. Oddly enough, it was only when he had finally stopped struggling did they undo his restraints. Barely, he knew that the gurney was being moved. Did he hear someone call out in a cheery voice, "Next?" He felt a chill along his injured spine.

The door opened before him, and he was wheeled to a corner and left there. Exhausted, in severe pain, and emotionally defeated, he just lay there and closed his eyes. He needed rest. He could figure out how to remove those things on his back later, but right now, he just really, really needed to come to terms with what had just happened.

[sunnydwithagun]

(Yup. Django was convinced that Mayfield loved putting wings on people. Despite how cool they looked, wings couldn't just be placed on people like this. If Engie can still see, he'll probably notice Django weakly avoiding every single ray of sunlight he can. )

Would...would you believe me if I told you you're not the only one they put large wings on?

[lyricthrow]

[There's a young girl, huddled on her bed, eyes darting around and scanning each and every person in the room. Sheesh, isn't there anything valuable she can steal here? Then again, in a place like this, she's not sure if there's anything to steal here at all, let alone something valuable.

She shifts, restlessly. The boss wouldn't be happy about this, she's sure. Ha, when has she cared about what the boss thought? A girl's got to have her fun, after all. Maybe her idea of fun is different from other people's, but screw that.

Her fingers twitch. She needs to take something.]

[forgotten_titan]

[There's a girl with blonde hair who's keeping her distance from everyone. She's looks really really scared, and if you get close enough you might hear her mutter to herself:]

...who am I? What...what was I doing? Why can't I remember...!?

[She seems horribly upset, and it sounds like she's lost her memory.]

[commentboxtroll]

[The pain may have been dulled, but he'd been awake the entire time. The entire time. The last thing he had remembered was breathing his last on the couch back at the house on Goldberg street and then he was in an operating room, with some awful woman. He'd died before she'd made her appearance, so what was even going on here? He had no idea.

The first hour passes with him still unable to do much but stare at the ceiling of the recovery room. Whatever she gave him was beginning to wear off after that and he could already feel the pain he felt becoming less and less dull. Finally, when he can feel his limbs again, Caesar sits up with a gasp, followed immediately by a fit of wracking coughs. Covering them with an arm proves to be a bad idea, since all that does is get blood all over his arm.]

...are you kidding me? They couldn't even fix that? [If he's alive again, why was he still coughing up blood?! He grabs for the railing of the gurney. He needs to get out of here before the pain killers wear off entirely. He's not sure he'll still be able to move once they do!

Easier said than done. The second he tries to use that rail to haul himself down onto his feet, it snaps off with a loud metal crack. Caesar's left holding it in his hand, staring.] ...w-what... what the HELL?!

[ooc: small note, Caesar's not only super strong atm, but also very ill and potentially contagious. o/]

[heartmaestro]

[She'd already been screaming. Screaming through getting her arms amputated with no painkillers or any kind of drugs. It was horrifying. That was one thing Kotomi could say she'd never expected. To be kidnapped, strapped to a metal table, and have her arms sawed off with every ounce of pain.

So for minute she huddles in the corner of her bed, pressing her face to her knees. She forces herself to take deep breathes. That, like everything this town did, would only be temporary.

She almost managed to second-guess herself when she felt her arms. Except, of course, nothing was really there. Only phantom limb pains. She knew enough about those. So she tried to ignore them, get her breathing under control. But it was when she felt something warm, something sticky and gushing that she forced herself to look up.

There was still nothing there. But she clearly felt something. There was something "hard" in her hands. And with a few quick motions, it snapped, and her "hands" plunged into something warm. Something...very not normal. Strands and strands and more strands of...whatever it was that she was "holding"--piles of this warm thing. It was only after closing her eyes did she realize that they were organs. She was pulling out organs. Sawing through bone. Getting her "hands" drenched in blood.

And it was then that she really couldn't stop screaming.]

[hardhat_truckie]

[By now, Engie's had some time to recover. Thank goodness too, because no sooner that he's gotten his voice back, someone else starts screaming. What chills Engie to the bone though is that it's a voice he knows. He scrambles towards her, the clumsy things implanted onto him scratching the ground. Nearly tripping, he gets close enough to see the source of Kotomi's distress.]

Miss Kotomi, please...please calm down! Lemme see what's wrong, I can help ya.

[It's important to keep calm and carry on. Or maybe Engie's more tired of feeling angry and distraught that all he has left is to be calm.]

[sumofallreds]

Hnnngghhh....those people. What did they just put me through?

[He looks downwards, to just make sure everything is in place.]

Looks like I'm lucky. Everything looks like it's still there.

[This...of course coming from the guy whose arms and legs have now been reversed.]

I wonder if that flying duck can tell me where I am...

[And after a moment...]

And who I am for that matter.

[chibi_emperor]

[ There's a pissed off blue-haired ten-year-old (well he looks like it) approaching Marvelous. His skin is see-through at places, so it's easy to see inside of his body, where he's not covered by hospital robe. ]

Fuck yeah, you're all here, but take another look, idiotic brat.

[ Seriously, how can you miss that? ]

Fuck if I know who you are.

[chibi_emperor]

[ Oh fuck you, Mayfield. Fuck. You. There is nothing Emperor wants to say more. And well, he isn't. Because he's being louder that the level where it can be called 'talking'.

He's already checked the place out. And the damn woman's not there, so he can't kill her. What the fuck did she think she was doing anyway? ]

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

[ There's a lot of nasty words coming out of his mouth, but that's the most common one. ]

[photonicfighter]

[She had felt worse pain before. This fact was something she held close and tight and hard for the entire length of her procedure. Through her artificial blood being drained, through it being replaced with something sludgy and black and ominous, through her hands being severed and replaced with assault rifles, she repeated it to herself over and over. I have felt worse, I have felt worse, I have felt worse... For paralyzed as she was from their injections, fighting was impossible. There was only enduring.

Out in the recovery room, she still found herself unable to move. Her head, it could rotate a bit. She could blink, and vocalize, and scan the room with her eyes, but the rest of her body remained stubbornly unresponsive.]

Can... [Oh, her throat was dry...] Can anyone hear me? [She was pretty sure she heard herself. Yes. It sounded right. Once again she willed herself to move, to no avail... then sighed and gave up. Maybe the drugs needed to wear off.]

...aaah!

[It was half a minute after she gave up moving that she found herself lurching upwards, into an unsteady sitting position. Then fwump, one leg jerked over the side of the bed. Then fwump, the other. None of this was purposeful. As far as she could feel, something was puppeting her.]

Oh no. No! Oh no no no...!

[Unsteadily, her right arm lifted. Whatever was puppeting her seemed to really, really want to find something to test out those nice new assault rifles on.]

[sunnydwithagun]

(It takes him a bit of effort, with his eyes crisscrossing from the aftereffects of the drugs, he manages to force the door open. Despite recovering from the injection, Django notices the mechanical woman with gun-like arms. This likely wouldn't end well.)

Umm...Ms? Are you alright?

[longevity]

Auugh!

[ Fran felt everything.

Every single ligament, muscle, nerve being torn out from its' place and arranged into new places. Oh the pain! She now lays on her bed in the recovery room as a heap of flesh and bones, hardly looking like a normal human being now.

Fran could feel how haphazardly her organs are put together. Once a straight, narrow and healthy spinal cord now a spiral mess. They only way she is making an exit from here is either by wheelchair escort or clawing her way back from the Hospital to Nelson Street. ]

[notyetageneral]

[Tyve's head is swimming as she lays on a gurney. It seems like any moment the world is going to fall away after some gratuitous spinning. Or maybe she just wants to throw up. What she has to throw up, she doesn't really know.

Despite the haziness of the sedatives still making their course through her body, there's a nagging feeling of certainty that there's something horribly wrong. Though that seems to be the only coherent thought in her head that consolidates with any clarity right now.]