Mayfield Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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mayfield_rpg2012-01-26 11:58 pm
mayfield_mods) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-01-26 11:58 pm
event: new and improved
[You wake up strapped to a gurney.
You are fastened tight by leather straps holding down each of your limbs. Even the strongest among you, despite regains or magic, will find it impossible to break free. Whether you are human, animal, or other, and regardless of your size, big or small, you are bound tight. A bright light shines in your eyes. You're not given much time to register your surroundings.
The woman standing before you is strangely familiar. You've probably seen her around town before- Mrs. Johnson, the flirty woman known to pop up now and then. Her red hair and striking smile, along with her strangely flirtatious attitude, have always seemed to mark her as a bit of an anomaly when it comes to the many drone women of Mayfield- the adult men among you that have encountered her before might have noticed that she's just a little bit... undronelike. That there's always been a little something too realistic, too conscious about her.
Right now, she's not wearing the well-pressed dress and neat heels of her normal attire. She's dressed in scrubs. Behind her stand a few other drones, each of them similarly attired, surgical masks over their faces. Mrs. Johnson smiles at you. She lifts a scalpel in one hand.
You are in a surgery room.
When Mrs. Johnson speaks, she sounds nothing like a drone. Her voice is calm and smooth and self-assured and very much undronelike.]
Hello, there. Have we met? You may call me Doctor Johnson. I'll be operating on you today. Just a few improvements. I'm a busy woman and there's plenty more on the schedule today, so do make this easy on me, will you?
I might be trying out a few experimental procedures. I see that you've signed the waiver here.
[She holds up a clipboard with a medical permissions form on it; your signature is there, perfectly forged. Of course, you don't remember writing it, because you never did.]
Don't worry about a thing. You're in good hands. [Dr. Johnson leans over you, smiling, and focuses the overhead light in your eyes, momentarily blinding you.] Nothing like a woman's touch to set things straight.
[One of the nurse drones wheels a cart over.]
Time to begin the operation.
[ooc; don't reply to this post. Please see the information post for more details.]
You are fastened tight by leather straps holding down each of your limbs. Even the strongest among you, despite regains or magic, will find it impossible to break free. Whether you are human, animal, or other, and regardless of your size, big or small, you are bound tight. A bright light shines in your eyes. You're not given much time to register your surroundings.
The woman standing before you is strangely familiar. You've probably seen her around town before- Mrs. Johnson, the flirty woman known to pop up now and then. Her red hair and striking smile, along with her strangely flirtatious attitude, have always seemed to mark her as a bit of an anomaly when it comes to the many drone women of Mayfield- the adult men among you that have encountered her before might have noticed that she's just a little bit... undronelike. That there's always been a little something too realistic, too conscious about her.
Right now, she's not wearing the well-pressed dress and neat heels of her normal attire. She's dressed in scrubs. Behind her stand a few other drones, each of them similarly attired, surgical masks over their faces. Mrs. Johnson smiles at you. She lifts a scalpel in one hand.
You are in a surgery room.
When Mrs. Johnson speaks, she sounds nothing like a drone. Her voice is calm and smooth and self-assured and very much undronelike.]
Hello, there. Have we met? You may call me Doctor Johnson. I'll be operating on you today. Just a few improvements. I'm a busy woman and there's plenty more on the schedule today, so do make this easy on me, will you?
I might be trying out a few experimental procedures. I see that you've signed the waiver here.
[She holds up a clipboard with a medical permissions form on it; your signature is there, perfectly forged. Of course, you don't remember writing it, because you never did.]
Don't worry about a thing. You're in good hands. [Dr. Johnson leans over you, smiling, and focuses the overhead light in your eyes, momentarily blinding you.] Nothing like a woman's touch to set things straight.
[One of the nurse drones wheels a cart over.]
Time to begin the operation.
[ooc; don't reply to this post. Please see the information post for more details.]