|Chase Dalton||The EMS rig rolled into HSL like a bat out of hell. The doors flew open, and a severely injured Chase Dalton was wheeled into the E.R. He was covered in blood, numerous scratch-marks, and presented with burns to his facial area, among other secondary injuries. Toxicology would come back with incredibly high levels of some sort of nerve gas. Reflex/reaction tests would present with decreased/inhibited responses on all fronts. "Coming through! MAKE A HOLE!" Someone shouts as the gurney is rolled into view.|
|Emma||Alerted that he was coming in, Emma had a room ready. The driver called a head of course. She isn't in scrubs. She is in a pencil skirt and nice top, and a lab coat. Following the gurney in she'd begin her exam, big grey-green eyes filled with worry. "Blo - bloody'ell, what tha - ta fuck happened!" The lass muttets.
Looking to a nurse, there is a list of duites given for her, including an IV and medicine. "We - we need ta clean him up, an' clean these burns!"
|Chase Dalton||Chase Dalton continues to lay on the gurney, drifting in and out of consciousness, not moving all that much. He looks like he's been chewed on and spat out by a large dog. What actually happened is anyone's guess. "Pretty pretty... pretty.." He mumbles, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And then he goes limp, zonking back out.|
|Emma||"Wh - what do ya think he meant by that?" Emma idly asks a nurse as she works, the concer in her tone too. "This'll need stitching," A few cuts are spotted. "An' - an we'll need a ointment for these burns." Her clothing won't stay clean, and there is no part of her that cares. "I - I want him out!" So a call for a drug to keep him under while they work is made.|
|Chase Dalton||As the drugs enter his system, well and truly sedating him, Chase floats in the inky black void of his own mind. After several seconds, he flashes back to basic training. Reporting for duty, the intake physical, the first day of PT. On the monitor, his vitals shift with the internal 'scene'; mostly different levels of excitement, perhaps a bit of fear. He remembers his first mission overseas in the 'stans, trying to sight in on a target in the midst of a rather nasty sandstorm. Something inside him begins bleeding profusely, and in his mind he begins coughing from the sand, and seeks out shelter.|
|Emma||Emma continues to work, cleaning wounds, stopping blood. Her lab coat gets dirty, her clothing does as well. Her mind isn't on that though.
As she works, the lass stops, and looks at some of his skin. "Bloody'ell." She says. "He's bleedin' internally!"
A nurse looks up to doctor O'Connal. "What do you want me to do doctor? Call the surgeon?"
This is considered for a second, all the risk. "Prepare tha OR and call Dr. Becker, he has a stat comin' in." That's when she turns and leans over Chase some. "Yer - yer gonna fine fine!" She believes he can't hear her, but will do her best to save his life. A second later, he is taken away for surgery.
|Chase Dalton||The sandstorm rages on; Chase is wheeled to the OR; as his wounds are looked after, the storm gradually dissipates, he leaves his shelter and continues with the mission. He flashes forward to a rocky plateau overlooking a long stretch of sand -- sand as far as the eye can see. Below him, a group conducts an inspection of a supposedly-decommissioned munitions plant. He watches the goings on, and sweeps the area, with his M82A1. A .50 BMG round dances lazily across the knuckles of his non-shooting hand.|