multiversallogs | plot } the creatures descend.

Who: Everyone!
What: Creatures descend!
Where: All across the city, although attacks will be most fervent at its heart.
When: Friday/Veerdi evening and into the week.
Notes: Slow and back-tagging is, as always, permitted. If you are confused, look at these two posts for more information.
Warnings: Violence, creepiness, swearing knowing these characters.

On Veerdi, the presence of the creatures reaches a fever pitch. Something has provoked them into launching an all-out assault, though it is one that begins slowly. The pipe-crawlers, generally harmless though they may be, are seen across homes in Baedal, sneaking up through the pipes and into bathtub drains or sinks. They come by the dozens, and their keening makes most homeowners nauseated--but it's their appearance that leads to a number of distressed Network calls.

This is just the distraction for the rest.

The call of the crawlers draws in the armored, sickly creatures with the tiny primates carried inside of it. They are inelegantly lumbering, but much faster than one might expect, and certainly hostile. They trudge across the city, barreling over anyone who gets in their path and leaving them half-crushed in the street. They're certainly unsettling in their obvious unhealthiness, and the disease-ridden animals they carry are downright vicious, especially once they escape (messily, bloodily) from their fleshy cage.

It's the birds that are the worst, though; the cleverest, and the cruelest.

These strange black birds are resistant to typical attacks and flying in large groups. They descend on pedestrians, picking at their eyes and faces, ready to rapidly tear flesh from bone until there's nothing left but skeletal remains. They fly out of range when they can, only to divebomb anyone who might think they've escaped.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sure enough, though, as Mike starts in on the arm, the patient more fully wakes up, and since the last thing he remembers is being beaten up, his disorientation is accompanied by panic. And pain. And screaming.

"Hey! Easy!" Hellboy cries out as the patient looks around wildly and fitfully tries to get up. He shifts position to put himself alongside the patient, opposite Mike, and holds him down as best he can with hopefully enough clearance on either side of the busted ribs. "Easy, buddy. You're safe now. We're trying to help you, but you need to hold still!"

The patient will calm down momentarily. If nothing else, Hellboy's near-inhuman appearance shocks the man into lucid recognition that he's being talked to.

Mike keeps a firm grip on the patient's arm, trying to keep the bones from slipping back out of place.

"Try to stay still." He keeps his voice even, but amplifies it the way a theater actor might -- maybe he did that back in his school days? -- so that the man will hopefully hear it over his screams. "I've set your leg, but I still need to set your arm and your ribs. I can give you painkillers once I've done that, okay?"

He has to be stingy with the injectable kind, but he has plenty of pills; if the guy stays awake he can get pretty comfortable soon. Mike shoots Hellboy a look of gratitude, because the way the guy tried to flail off of the table was intense enough that he'd probably have crashed to the floor if Big Red hadn't been there to stop him.

The patient continues to stare fearfully at the red monstrosity standing over him, until Hellboy musters as much gentleness as he can manage and says to him, "Listen to the man." Eye gestures aren't easy when your eyes don't have visible irises, pupils, etc., but with a little chin and eyebrow action, he manages to direct the patient's gaze over at Mike, at which point he finally settles down and nods, bracing himself for the work yet to be done.

With that taken care of, Hellboy lets out a little sigh of relief and nods back at Mike. "I think we're ready, Doc."

"Thank you." He isn't actually a doctor, just a medic, but he doesn't correct Hellboy. It's not really an issue in the current situation -- he is more than qualified to do what he's doing -- and the patient is probably better off jumping to the same conclusion.

Things go a lot more smoothly with the patient awake. Splinting the arm is much easier, as is bracing the ribs. After that, he's able to give the man some pretty strong pills for the pain, and start washing his cuts and deciding which ones need stitches. The man has remained calm, but it hasn't escaped Mike's notice that he keeps glancing nervously at Hellboy.

"I'm guessing that your appearance is pretty unusual here?" Given what had crawled out of the sink drain earlier, all bets had been off for a while.

While Mike works, Hellboy keeps enough distance to hopefully minimize the patient's nervousness, except when he's needed to lend a hand.

"My appearance is unusual pretty much everywhere." Well, except Hell, presumably, but he doesn't care about there. "Back home, I was kind of a celebrity, but there was still the occasional person who'd panic, even when they should've known better."

"Well I know I'm glad to have you on our side. Not that I'm really sure who 'we' are yet, or anything, but..." Hopefully Hellboy knows what he means. Mike's pretty much used to being thrown in the deep end, and he's already concluded that -- appearances notwithstanding -- Hellboy is on the side of the angels.

Now that the patient is cooperative (and increasingly under the influence of the strong painkiller Mike gave him) things go quickly and smoothly. Soon everything's pretty much done.

"We have some cots set up in the other room for patients... could you help me transfer him to one, please? Then you can get back to the battle." There's a hint of wistfulness in Mike's voice, like he wants to be out in the thick of things, himself.

"Thanks. I'm used to it, though. I mean, even aside from how I look, I mostly show up to deal with horrible spooky stuff, and I'm not especially delicate about it. Some associations just make themselves." He shrugs.

"Sure." While Hellboy isn't delicate with monsters, he does his best here, slowly scooping up the patient and carrying him over to one of the cots. He looks down at the patient for a moment, then turns to Mike. "I'm no medical expert, but it looks good to me. Well done, Lieutenant." He extends his left hand to shake.

"Sounds like this attack is right up your alley, then." He smiles and extends his own left hand, shaking Hellboy's hand and skipping the whole manly grip contest; he already knows who'll win. "Thank you. And thank you for your help, too. If you find any more wounded, I'll be right here waiting for them."

A hint of that wistfulness appears again. He's going to be a good boy and tend to his patients, but clearly he'd love to be out in the middle of the action. One day.

Hellboy's known enough military guys over the years to at least vaguely recognize that wistfulness. Even without any idea of Mike's real capabilities, he knows that corpsmen are as much soldiers as they are healers, and that he'd been kidnapped directly from the field. Not too surprising that the guy's used to being out there.

He nods, acknowledging it. "I'll keep that in mind. Take it easy." He heads out, lights up a cigar once he gets outside of the Inn, and goes looking for the next trouble spot.

plot } the creatures descend.

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