Prometheus (Peregrine x Nydanna)

[Peregrine]

[fieldbox= Griffin, #333e80] How many times had Griffin woken before this? If someone had asked him that, he would not have been able to tell them an answer. Once a day, every day, since long before this absurd war had begun. It was a familiar experience, certainly no reason for alarm. Yet, this time, he felt a sudden and uncontrollable bout of fear, almost enough to make his fingers twitch in panic and cause him to take in a hasty breath as his body, still human after however many times he had died, unconsciously prepared for a battle where he would need to fight to save his life. It was an absurd notion, but even after all this time the reflex still existed, and it took all his control to halt the reaction, to sit still and analyze. He reminded himself that he was safe. He had died only shortly after the sun had broken the horizon, and it had not been a peaceful death. It couldn't be any later than noon. He had, at the very minimum, a solid twenty hours before he would be at any risk of dying again.

So he lay there, completely limp, breathing so faintly he felt as though he was suffocating himself, even as his heart beat so loudly in his ears it made it almost impossible to hear anything else. He longed to take a few deep breaths, to remove the burning tightness in his chest and try and slow his heart, but he couldn't do that. Not yet. He didn't know where he was, or what had caused him to wake up with such an overwhelming sensation of fear. So he listened, quelling his body's natural reactions, seeking out anything that might give away where he was and what was wrong.

There was nothing but silence, still air, and the vague scent of blood and death. No trace breeze stirred the dank air, which seemed to press down heavily on his chest. Even the sounds of the battlefield was gone. With another, sudden burst of fear, Griffin wondered if he had been buried, and he was going to have to find some way to claw himself out of a coffin and six feet of dirt over the next who knew how many days. But, no. The air was heavy, but it wasn't stale and suffused with the scent of wood and soil. He was still above ground, or, at the very least, in a basement of some building. As the knot in his gut relaxed somewhat, his attention turned to listening for... anything. But the air wasn't the only thing that was still. The whole room seemed paralyzed with stillness, held as rigid as Griffin's self-control. No matter how hard he strained his ears, he couldn't detect anything. That was, at least, until he heard the sound of voices passing by, muffled as they passed through a heavy door, or perhaps a plate of steel.

Some of the fear in Griffin began to melt away. The morgue. For whatever reason, he was in the morgue. He cast his mind backwards, trying to remember what had happened, but everything began to go blurry as the young man dragged him closer and closer to the hospital and more of his blood stained the ground. It wasn't uncommon for him to forget what happened immediately before his death. Sometimes that was a relief. Maybe his last memory wasn't death but simply passing out, and some doctors had carried him inside before being unable to save him, and he had been placed with all the other dead bodies until another pit could be dug. It made sense, at least to an extent.

Finally, desperate for air, unable to locate even a trace of anything abnormal in the room, and somewhat comforted by his own baseless logic, Griffin opened his eyes.

And found himself staring straight into the panicked brown eyes of the woman who had seemed to recognize him last night.

This time Griffin neither hesitated nor delayed. He bolted off the table in an instant, throwing himself towards the woman with his hand already curling into a fist. He'd knock her out with a quick blow, before figuring out what to do with her. He knew he couldn't simply leave her behind and try and escape. Not anymore. She had seen to much. Most likely, she had been watching his body the whole time it had healed, or whatever it did before he "woke". If he left her behind and she said something... Well, Griffin had left too many people alive in the past who knew about him. He didn't want to another one to that list.

It was at that moment that he saw the scalpel, which had been loosely clasped in her hand before, suddenly raising up to intercept his incoming fist. Griffin changed the direction of his punch suddenly, striking her fiercely in the solar plexus before hurling himself past her. He'd have to risk letting her life. Escape was more important. Besides, who would believe her? Griffin bolted towards the far wall, and the silver door that was embedded in it, before twisting the handle and pulling desperately. The door didn't budge. His heart rate accelerating to yet untapped levels of rapid, Griffin pushed. The door didn't move.

Locked. Consumed by panic and not thinking clearly, Griffin didn't see the deadbolt above the handle, only whirled around to stare daggers at the young woman who had trapped him in here. Had she known what was going to happen? Was that why she had locked them in here? When would the door open again? Could he get out of here before that happened? Was there anyone else who had been watching? She was just starting to recover from his blow, and Griffin rapidly moved forward, preparing to grab her again. "Where the fuck am I?"
[/fieldbox]

 

[ᴛᴏᴄᴋᴀ]

[fieldbox= Kathleen, #4f0c59] Kathleen's eyes were stinging, drier than the dessert and their lids heavier than she had ever felt them. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done." She informed, well, herself. For some reason it felt safe to have a conversation with herself now, not quite as insane as she always believed it to be. Of course talking to herself wasn't going to be an issue; she was watching a dead body heal itself. Couldn't get any crazier than that, could she? "No, this is the craziest thing I've ever done. They're going to lock me away in a padded cell if anyone finds out. May as well get used to conversing with myself, because that's how I'm going to be spending most of my time if word of this ever gets out. I'm going to be trapped in a cell with only myself to keep me company." Great, now she was not only talking to herself, but she was rambling on to herself as well.

She glared down at the body, watching, waiting, everything on edge for some grand finale to the craziness, and end to it all before she declared herself completely insane. The wounds were closing, slowly but surely, fading into thin red lines, then to nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. Was he a ghost? Some sort of undead being? That was as preposterous as the idea that he had come back to life in the first place, but the evidence was sitting right in front of her. She lost track of time, unaware if it had been minutes or hours since she'd first shut herself inside the room. With each second that ticked away, Kathleen thought she could feel her hold on reality slipping with it, bringing s her closer and closer to her own craziness. When he'd healed completely that would be it for her. Her organized mind would shatter completely and she'd end up a rambling mess that no one would believe. She'd become the next cautionary tale for the overworked, a warning of what would happen if one did not take time for themselves to shut down their mind.

Kathleen didn't know what to expect when the wounds were all healed up and there was nothing but a pristine corpse lying on a metal slab of a table. She thought that perhaps he'd just disappear, maybe returning to the place he'd taken his last breath. Perhaps he'd explode into ashes, that would be swept away, and another body would simply appear in the middle of the fight. She didn't know what to expect at all, but she certainly hadn't planned on getting attacked by a man who had been dead only a few minutes prior.

It happened in the blink of an eye, or maybe it was longer than that. Kathleen didn't think she could trust her own sense of time. One minute he was lying there motionless, the next he was flying at her, his fist moving in slow motion until it knocked the wind right out of her. She flew back against the wall, both from the impact of the hit and her own startled reaction to witness a dead man come back to life. Her hands flew to her chest, trying to ease the tightness that kept her from drawing in breath and trying to calm her racing heart. Her eyes were wide, wild with disbelief of what she was witnessing, the darkness contrasting the paleness of her face that had lost all traces of blood flow.

It took her several moments to recover, Kathleen's legs giving out on her and her body sliding down the wall to the floor. She couldn't for the life of her take her eyes off the dead man. No, no longer dead, but what he was she didn't know.

He screamed at her and it snapped the woman from her daze. It didn't make it any easier for her to believe what she was seeing, not one little bit. All it did was verify her previous thoughts. She was going insane, and now she was imagining a dead man cussing and screaming at her. Why not answer him? She was already halfway to the asylum. "You're in the morgue. I was performing an autopsy when you…." She laughed maniacally, shaking her head as if the motion would make the world return to normal again. "You were dead….you've died twice already that I've seen. I was trying to figure out why you didn't have the virus anymore…and…." She laughed again, her head thrown back in her hysterics. "And you jumped up like you didn't have your guts hanging out just this morning."

She reached into the pocket of her jacket withdrawing a ring of keys to dangle limply from her index finger. "Go ahead and take them. You're not real anyway, so you won't be able to grab them. You're just my mind snapping, and you're stuck in here with me until it starts pulling itself back together again."[/fieldbox]

 

[Peregrine]

[fieldbox= Griffin, #333e80]Griffin snatched the keys without hesitation, and with no small measure of relief. The medic's panicked words about how he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination had done much to assuage his fear about who she might be, and how much she knew. It appeared that she had stumbled across him completely by coincidence, and there was no one more sinister waiting behind her, with plans Griffin wanted nothing to do with. All he had to worry about now was getting out of this place before the situation got any worse than it already was.

Griffin was fully prepared to turn, unlock the door, and get out of the hospital right then and there, before he realized that there were not many people, doctor, nurse, soldier, or otherwise, who would not stop to question a naked man running through the middle of the battlefield. If he wanted to escape, he was going to have to find some method to cover up. His old clothes were completely cut to pieces, and even if they hadn't been the bloodstains would raise almost as many questions as no clothes at all would. Unfamiliar with the hospital, having only been in here once before and never while he was fully cognizant, there was no guarantee he would be able to find a uniform, or clothes of any sort, before he was detected. Eyes passing quickly around the room, Griffin settled on the only viable option: the lab coat the nurse in front of him was wearing.

"The coat, too," he growled, not feeling either patient or courteous enough for common manners. He'd already punched her once and stolen her keys, though, so a please would have hardly made any difference anyways.[/fieldbox]

 

[ᴛᴏᴄᴋᴀ]

[fieldbox= Kathleen, #4f0c59] Kathleen took a moment to recover from the unexpected blow, but her mind still could not wrap around the fact that a dead man had just knocked the wind out of her. He had been dead, this time she was certain of it. She had cut him open herself, had gazed over his motionless heart and still lungs. There could be no explaining that away, no rationalizing hours of inactive organs that were vital in keeping a person alive. Yet there he was, not a ghost or a figment of her imagination, the ache in her chest could attest to that. He was a solid, and apparently he was alive for at least the second time since she'd first laid eyes on him, and now he was snarling out demand for her lab coat that she absolutely refused to comply with.

She scrambled for the first weapon she could find, crawling clumsily to reach whatever tool her hands happened upon. "Forget it. I've given you the keys. That's all you're getting from me." Reality was settling back into her mind, Kathleen coming to terms with exactly what she was looking at. This man possessed something, exactly what she had no clue, but she knew that there was a possibility that somewhere within in body was a possible cure for the virus that causing so much trouble. The problem was, she couldn't take him down herself. He was lger than her, and obviously had very few qualms about hitting a woman. Outside the door were MPs, doctors and orderlies that could assist her, and more importantly, there were restraints and sedatives! She'd have to keep the dose low, but she was certain she could get her tests done while he was out for an hour or two. She'd just have to make a few arrangements to have her equipment placed in whatever room she kept him in.

"If you're going to go, you're going how you are, and if you take one step closer I'll jam the first thing I find in your eye. Let's see you come back after your brain's been damaged." Kathleen was rather impressed by how confident she managed to sound while she was a complete mess on the inside. She was still struggling with what was going on, still questioning her own eyes and sanity. She wouldn't let him get close to her again. If he did, she knew there was a chance she might not survive regardless of how much of a fight she put up. Outside she stood a chance, but in here she was dead if he turned on her.

"You'd better hurry. Shift change will be over soon I imagine, and the hallways will be crowded." She may have lied just a bit. She had no idea exactly what the time was, whether it was anywhere near shift change or not. All she wanted was to spook him out of the room before he could hit her again, possibly knocking her unconscious this time. He hadn't thought of it at first, and she wasn't going to point out the glaring error in his escape plan. She needed to remain awake and alert, even if she was still a bit stunned by what she was witnessing.[/fieldbox]

 

[Peregrine]

[fieldbox= Griffin, #333e80] Unfortunately for the nurse, doctor, medic, or whatever the woman in front of Griffin was, the recently resurrected immortal had absolutely no intentions of allowing her to chase him away with just a few brave words. He might have still been jittery and uncomfortable from being discovered, but Griffin could still sense the fear that came from this woman. Her brave front was just that, a front. He loomed a step closer, uncaring of her words. "I don't think so." She wanted to try and stick something in his eye? Let's see how that resolve fared against a luck that could keep him alive for over six hours on a pitch-black battlefield with bullets flying in every direction.

A moment later he lunged forward with all the strength and speed he possessed, which might not have been much compared to some of the older soldiers out on the battlefield, but was certainly enough to subdue the woman in front of him. They wrestled violently across the ground, his hand wrapped around her neck to keep her from screaming, even as her teeth sunk viciously into his shoulder. He winced in pain and frustration, knowing the infection from that bite would likely be the thing to do him in some time tomorrow night, but didn't release his hold on the nurse at all. His other hand pinned one of hers to the ground after a moment's struggle, and as her movements began to grow weaker from lack of breath he was finally able to pin her legs under his body. At that point, it was simply a matter of time until her body went limp. He stripped the coat off her shoulders then, wincing again as a seam tore when he tugged it out from under her, but quickly threw it on over his shoulders. He would have to hope it would be enough.

A moment later, he glanced back at the woman on the floor, before looking over to the tray of surgical tools beside the table and the pools of his old blood. He quickly rejected the thought of killing her, though. While he consciously knew that her words about a shift change had most likely just been a bluff to get him moving and away from her, he could not entirely shake them from his head. The last thing he needed right now was for security to suddenly lock down because someone found the dead body of a medic in the examination room. He had her lab coat now, torn as it might be, and would simply have to hope that it would offer him enough protection. Besides, he was less anxious about leaving her behind now than he had been when he had first awoken. There was no sinister force looming behind her; if she said anything it would be treated as the ravings of a battle-mad lunatic. That would be just as much of a protection for him as leaving behind a dead body. Maybe even more, if she was found too quickly. Right now, he simply had to focus on getting away.

The sound of the woman faintly stirring on the ground behind him was the last little jolt of motivation he needed to get moving. Griffin raced over to the door, tossing the key in his hand to reposition it, before quickly unlocking the door with the key. He had to force himself to slow down as he pulled the door open, reminding himself that any traces of urgency in his movement or expression would only draw more attention to him. Griffin took a deep breath, trying to use that moment to calm his beating heart, before pulling open the door, stepping through, and letting it swing closed behind him.

He winced at the vicious slam the heavy door produced when it closed, but did not look back or flinch Instead, he lifted his head and resolutely and strode off down the hallway with a purposeful step, desperately trying to keep himself from clutching suspiciously at the buttoned lab coat, out of fear that some of his skin was sticking through the spaces between the buttons.[/fieldbox]

 

[ᴛᴏᴄᴋᴀ]

[fieldbox= Kathleen, #4f0c59] Kathleen wasn't prepared for the man to lunge at her again, and even if she'd had an inkling the attack was coming, she really didn't have the skills to evade. She wasn't a fighter, she was a healer. Her job was to help people, not harm them. Yet that was exactly what she needed to do. She couldn't kill him, that would have totally defeated the purpose of letting him think he was slipping away. She needed him alive, if that was even his current state. Kathleen needed his blood flowing, his heart pumping, and oxygen flowing to his brain. When he came at her, the only thing Kathleen could think of was slowing him down and trying not to do any damage that would require medical treatment. She had already witnessed what could happen if he was over medicated.

She fought against him, nails and teeth trying to catch any piece of skin that was within reach. Her mind couldn't formulate any solid plans past surviving the encounter. Those thoughts became a blur with the pressure she felt around her throat. Her fight continued her focus no longer to subdue the man enough to get him where she needed him. She didn't care if he got away at that moment, only worried about living through the fight. She clawed at his wrist, the tug of her lab coat only an afterthought. The world around her began to dim, the edges of her vision clouding over as the air getting to her lungs began to decrease. She had a moment of clarity just before the world went black, one final thought of the irony of what was going on. In her desperation for a cure, in sparing the man's life she had possibly brought an end to her own.
.
She didn't slip into unconsciousness, not completely. There was a moment that the world was completely silent and still, not even her mind made a sound. The stillness continued, but the world began to lighten from black to grey. The hardness of the floor beneath her trickled into her thoughts, followed by the ache in her throat and neck with a rush of what had just happened to her. Kathleen pushed herself up, glancing around the room in search of the man who had put her in the position she was in. Her possible cure was getting away! The reminder had Kathleen struggling to her feet, using the wall to stand. She paused to gain her footing, silently cursing that she had to wait, giving the man more time to make an escape. She counting on the hallways being filled, hoping that she hadn't been bluffing about the change in shift.

Once she was steady, Kathleen made her way to the door, glancing around the hallways for anyone passing by. They were empty, at least for the time being, but Kathleen knew how to get the attention of everyone without attempting to use her voice. She began grabbing onto anything she could, wheelchairs, stretchers, anything at all that could produce noise. She slammed them into walls, knocked down anything that would clatter on the floor, and made as much of a ruckus as she could until a pair of MPs finally came rushing to her. Kathleen was quick to play the weak, helpless female role, her body collapsing against the first man to reach her. "I….I was attacked….." She gasped out, her hand rubbing against her throat. "A patient….he's….." She pointed, unsure which direction the man had run off to. "I don't know…."

The MP shook his head, settling her into one of the wheelchairs that she hadn't knocked over. "It's alright, just sit there and catch your breath. We'll find him." He was bellowing out orders to his partner, the other man quickly running off while calling out an alert to the other MPs stationed throughout the halls. "There's an escaped patient on the loose! I want a thorough sweep of every room until he's found." Kathleen could hear the officer shouting, followed by the scuffs of feet rushing over the tiled floors. Sooner or later the man would be caught, all she needed to do was wait.

Feeling almost giddy that she no longer had to worry about her cure escaping, Kathleen was on her feet and moving confidently toward the nearest nurse's station. It only took her a moment to prepare a syringe, adding just enough sedative to immobilize the man without the possibility of killing him yet again. She handed it off to the nearest MP, giving him direct orders of exactly what she needed him to do once he found her wayward patient. "Use this. Nothing else. Once he's subdued, I want him upstairs on the second floor in the quarantine wing. And don't use the normal restraints on him. Use some shackles if you have any available."

Once she was satisfied that her request was heard, she retreated to the second floor herself to prepare for her subject. She doubted that he was going to willingly explain what or who he was to her, not when he realized that she had every intention of treating him akin to a prisoner of war. He would be fed, and receive medical treatment, but she wasn't going to let him out of her sight for one second. He was her ticket away from the front lines and back to her home where she could work in peace without all the chaos of battle surrounding her. For Kathleen, he was also the chance for a little recognition, and the possibility of more funding for other areas in her research. There was no way she was letting him get away again, not until she had all the answers she needed.[/fieldbox]

 

[Peregrine]

[fieldbox= Griffin, #333e80] Griffin wound his way down several corridors, uncertain if he was making his way out, or only going deeper into the hospital. Luckily for him, it seemed that the doctor's words had only been a bluff, as the hallways were almost completely empty. He allowed that little trace of reassurance to increase his speed, his pace picking up from purposeful to something slightly more urgent. The one person he passed was a nurse who rounded a corner unexpectedly, but at the site of Griffin hurrying down the hallway she quickly stepped out of the way, doing nothing more than taking a quick glance after his retreating figure before heading off down the hallway in the opposite direction at a casual pace. Griffin breathed a little easier.

He made it far enough away that, by the time Kathleen made it out of the room and started working to attract the attention of any nearby medical staff, he could only barely hear the ruckus she was creating. Focused on escape, on trying make sure that he wasn't walking in circles and was at least progressing in a generally fixed direction, the noise passed in one ear and out the other. He had decided there were more important things to worry about right now.

However, the effects of Kathleen's commotion caught up with him only a few minutes later, when Griffin suddenly heard two sets of heavy steps just around the corner in front of him. He forced his feet to slow, took a deep breath, and did his best to adopt an unconcerned expression. A moment later, and two large medics appeared in front of him, moving just slowly enough that they wouldn't risk running into anything. They halted at the sight of Griffin.

Before either of them had a chance to speak, Griffin jumped into conversation. "What happened?" There was a trace of something in his voice, something born from a combination of stress and fear of discovery and capture, but he could only pray that the sound would be taken as concern. It was obviously that the two medics were in an urgent situation. That would garner concern from most people who ran across them, wouldn't it? He could only hope.

The medic who was slightly in the rear responded brusquely, his attitude born more from urgency than suspicion or true rudeness. "Escaped patient. Attacked one of our medical researchers. Have you seen anything?"

Griffin struggled to keep his hands still, desperately afraid that any stray motion might attract unwanted attention, and the medics would notice that something was wrong with the slightly torn, too tight and too small white lab coat he wore. "No. Where did it happen?"

"Back by examination lab 15," the medic replied. "We've got people all over the west quadrant to make sure he can't attack anyone else."

Griffin swallowed, trying to keep his voice level and calm. "Could he have made his way towards the exit?"

"Possible," the medic agreed. "Someone's already on the north doors, but I don't think anyone's on the west emergency exit." The man gestured vaguely behind him and to the right, and Griffin felt his heart leap. A destination.

"I can go check it out," Griffin offered, still doing everything in his power to keep from raising suspicion from the two men in front of him.

"Good. We've got to keep searching."

Griffin nodded his agreement, and stepped to the side to allow the two medics to pass, offering a slight smile and nod to the medic in front, who was still staring at Griffin as though he was trying to solve some puzzle. No need to figure it out, Griffin intoned in his head, rubbing a sweaty palm on the side of his coat. The moment they were clear, Griffin set off down the hallway, eyes angled in the vague direction the one medic had indicated as the "emergency exit". All he had to do was make it there, and he'd be able to get away.

It was as he was walking away that the other medic suddenly became aware of Griffin's bare feet, however quiet he might try and be on the linoleum floor. For a moment the man stood there in stunned silence, before he suddenly let out a shout of surprise and threw himself at Griffin. Promptly realizing that his cover had been blown, Griffin took off down the hallway, no longer caring if the hem of the coat flapped open and revealed bare skin. The second medic cursed to himself, shot a glance at his partner, who had landed on the floor after his failed attempt to tackle Griffin, and set off down the hallway after Griffin.

The two wound through the hallways, Griffin desperately dodging the piled carts in the hallway, before throwing one down behind him to try and interfere with the medic chasing him. The cart ended up having the opposite effect, as the loud clatter of metal and glass hitting the floor drew the attention of several other nearby doctors and nurses, who were out of sight but certainly weren't out of hearing range. More and more people began chasing after Griffin, and the immortal felt his desperation steadily growing. He had to get away. He had to.

But one turn through the wrong door led him to a narrow hallway, and the only thing that waited for him at the other end was a locked door to a storage closet and a dingy glass window that let in muted daylight. Several people slowed in the hallway spreading out to make sure he wouldn't be able to bolt past them. Griffin's eyes flicked between the various people, the door at the other end of the hallway, and over a medical bench that held a couple narrow wooden dowels, before finally landing on the window. In one quick motion, Griffin's fist flew outward, the meaty part of the side of his hand striking heavily against the glass, which shattered under the force. Uncaring of the sharp fragments of glass that remained in the window and would cut him when he crawled out, or the ones that would cut into the bottom of his feet when he stepped on them, Griffin began to hoist himself through the window, eyes focused on the blue sky beyond, and the shocked crowd of distant soldiers that was staring at him on the other side.

Somewhere inside of him, Griffin had accepted that he wasn't going to get away. Even if he made it out of the window and into the field of tents, gaining a little bit of distance from the doctors, the rest of the soldiers would promptly realize he was being chased and intervene, pinning him to the ground until some hospital worker could come and collect him. But outwardly he still struggled, lashing out with a foot when a hand closed around his leg. He felt something soft give under his foot, and the hand on his leg was immediately released with an accompanying howl of pain, as the doctor fell away with one hand covering a bloody nose. But another hand closed around his leg, even as two more appeared on his shoulders, sending out a bright sliver of pain from the bite wound, and the glass dug into his forearms as he desperately scrambled for freedom against the tug of hands that closed around him.

But it was too late. Bodies pinned him to the floor, until a few moments later when a sharp needle pricked his shoulder and the muscle cramped in protest to the sudden influx of liquid. He struggled even more desperately, even knowing that it would only promote the passage of the drug through his veins, but the doctor's didn't let go. But in almost direct contradiction to his slowly darkening vision, Griffin suddenly felt his mind sharpen and calm down. He struggled weakly for a few more moments before gradually growing limp, even as he fought the feeling of drowsiness weighing down his body. The hands holding him in place gradually released, and the various bodies surrounding him moved away. As soon as he was certain he was no longer being restrained, Griffin shoved his way to his feet, flinging himself in the direction he vaguely remembered something important being. Half numbed pain bit into his chest, and a gust of fresh air brushed across his cheek. It was nice, and didn't seem like the right sound to accompany the muted shouts of surprise behind him.

He was caught just as he collapsed out the window, and several sets of hands dragged him back in, tearing open his calf on another fragment of glass. The floor was cold and tacky with his own blood, and he could feel fabric wrapping around his various wounds to halt the flow of blood. The pain was gone now. It almost felt like dying.

The last words he heard before passing out came from a nearby doctor who was gasping for breath. "Why.. why was he so desperate?"

Desperate. Yes, he had been desperate. But now?

Now he was fucked.
[/fieldbox]

 

[ᴛᴏᴄᴋᴀ]

[fieldbox= Kathleen, #4f0c59] Kathleen didn't stand by to wait if they managed to capture the man or not; she was almost assured he would be detained before he could find his escape. She had to prepare for it, determined not to allow the man another opportunity to slip past her. There was a great deal of work to be done, most of it requiring the man out of commission and docile. She'd made the mistake before of not seeing the threat, but now after being attacked, and the man's ability to slip free of the hospital, she was not going to make the same mistake twice. The bed that she assigned to him was equipped with full restraints, including handcuffs which she borrowed from a few of the MPs. There were restraints for his feet, and for a moment she'd even considered getting some rope to tie him to the bed, but after some consideration felt that was taking it to the extreme. She wanted him to understand that this time around she meant business. There was not going to be any escaping, and her guard as going to be up the entire time.

Hearing the commotion out in the hallway, Kathleen moved quickly. She halted the men who carried her wayward patient, halting them long enough for her to inject him with the smallest dose of sedative to keep him from fighting against what she was about to do. "In there. Make sure he's restrained as soon as you get him down, and I'd like someone stationed by the door if at all possible." Kathleen would admit that she felt a bit like a mad scientist, locking an unwilling patient up while she ran tests on him. That wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when she'd signed up for the agency, but she was willing to endure it as long as the promise of results seemed obtainable. "Quickly! Get him in there before he stirs and whatever you do, do not let him move." He'd assaulted her to get free, no doubt he'd have no issues doing the same to men that were his size.

Certain that the man would be restrained and immobile, Kathleen returned to the lab, gathering up all of the equipment and tools she would need. She wasn't going to take a chance. She was going to stay with the man until she had all of the answers, including how he'd died twice and miraculously appeared untouched and in perfect health. There had to be something there, some antibody in his blood, or something; just what that something could be was beyond her. She had witnessed people with fast healing, but nothing even remotely close to what she'd seen earlier. She'd had his entire torso cut open for the autopsy, and now there wasn't even a dent in his skin to show for it. Kathleen did not believe in miracles or magic at all, but she did believe in the power of science. She had no idea what she was dealing with, but she knew that there was some scientific discovery that could benefit everyone; she just needed to find it.

With everything loaded onto a metal cart, she wheeled it back into the room, her eyes immediately moving to her patient to ensure he was still securely in bed and unable to move. Kathleen pondered requesting someone stay inside the room with her, but realized that it would only hinder her progress and make the tight, windowless space all the more smaller. "Thank you, gentlemen. I think I can handle him from here." Could she though? Kathleen had assumed that before under circumstances where she should have been perfectly safe alone with the man. He had been dead, unable to do anything at all to her, yet she'd ended up having the wind knocked right out of her. Was it really safe for her to assume she could handle him? He was very much alive now, and she knew he wasn't going to be particularly happy when he discovered she wasn't going to let him get away that easily.

The men left the room, and Kathleen locked up behind them, still questioning how wise that decision was. She didn't linger in those questions for long, deciding it was time to take advantage of the man's current docile state in order to get started with her work. She started by drawing blood, making sure to position her body away from his restrained hand. Next she plucked a few hairs from his head with an odd sense of satisfaction. No, she normally didn't enjoy inflicting pain on anyone, but she considered it a small bit of vengeance for the punch she'd gotten earlier.

This time around Kathleen didn't try to comfort the man, didn't even really acknowledge if he was awake or unconscious. It was probably best if she tried to avoid any interaction with him at all. His anger was going to be difficult to deal with whenever he woke up, and she could not think of an explanation for what she was doing. If there was something going on with him, some advance in medical technology, she didn't want him to know she was on to it. If she did ask him questions, he was likely to either clam up or give her the wrong answer. Either way, she was going to have to rely on his blood and other samples for her answers, and try to limit any conversation between them to need to know information. She began to work, tuning the man's presence out completely to focus on her task. She had a great deal to examine, and she didn't think she'd have much time before he made it difficult for her.[/fieldbox]