Lieutenant Calvert

ᓚᘏᗢ

Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Norrie cut him off. "Shut the FUCK up Jackson. You set yourself up for that one." He didn't argue, just grumbled something under his breath that Norrie didn't give a rat's ass about. "Pleasant, sure, understandable. But worth it? It's basically suicide, AND it means we win," She countered. Surely that'd make not dying at the moment more worth it. "Huh. I'll just add that to list of Things to Yell at People For, and to the case of Why the Hybrid Tore Previous Whatchamacallums to Shreds," Norrie said. A shame too, since he'd probably have been utterly delightful.

Norrie nodded in understanding and said, "Yeah, exactly as I figured." It may take some waiting, but if all went well, Norrie figured she'd bring him along to deal with the incompetent bastards. "Well, it's only fair, given you're still alive," She mused with a snort.

"I just meant I don't answer to bitch or dipshit or the likes," She said with a snort. Those were typically met with a good whackin'. "Couple DOZEN? How damn long do you plan on living?" A couple dozen more years sounded AWFUL. 20, mayyybe 30 more, max. No need to go through the pain of getting old and useless. "Do I ev- well, yeah, a LOT. How the actual fuck would we have survived the middle ages without armor and swords 'n shit? There's no natural protection whatsoever, we should've died out AGES ago. Sometimes I wish we'd been wiped out during the Black Death, save a whole lotta trouble," Norrie said. But noooo, people just had to survive and go on to be powerhungry shitheads.

"Well, 1, I'm not asking the monster, I'm asking the human part of it, and 2, last I checked, no part of you was a plant. I don't expect you to photosythesize," She pointed out flatly. "Oh jumped-up christ on a bicycle," She muttered under her breath. "Okay, yeah, let's do that," She said, "This way then." Norrie led him into a moderately larger, somewhat less menacing-looking building, where medical personell were scurrying about. Most of them looked at Axl, went pale, and scurried faster. One brave fellow approached with an amicable enough grin, if a little nervous, gave a salute, before looking Axl up and down with increasing dismay.

"Can you be of any use here?" Norrie asked him, and after a moment of though, he said, "Sure... I think. This way please." They followed, and he led them to a medium sized, fairly standard hospitally room. He looked to Norrie questioningly, and she guessed it was because of Axl's lack of restraints, so she gave him an eh, he's alright shrug. Norrie leaned against the wall casually while who she thought of as Doctor Dan the Band-Aid Man[she didn't know if his name was really Dan or not and didn't care] did whatever he needed to.

D-94, "Axl"

+++

"Suicide is better than eternal torture being forced to serve humans even though you could kill them with a flick of your wings, and I don't give a monkeys bottom if you 'win'. I'd rather save what dignity I have left and die quickly." Axl snorted, his wings twitching slightly under the thick chains that kept them close to his body. If he could only flick them a LITTLE more, he could send a Feather flying. Alas, he could not. "Tis a good case, too. I would've preferred to be a jolly humorous fellow instead of the annoying dipshit I've turned out to be, but they ruined that for me." His tone had the same underlying dry sarcasm that came with most of his words. It was clear that most things that came out of his pie hole were not serious.

.

"Still alive and wish I wasn't. How fulfilling it will be for me to see them having the same struggles." He mused, eyes narrowing just slightly as he imagined their fear stricken faces and the tantalizing fear scent filling the air as they realized the weight of their mistakes and exactly how they would pay. Limb. By. Limb.

.

"I can only imagine the reaction someone would get if they tried to get you to turn your attention to them using one of those." Axl stated drily, still watching her with his deep, pool like glittering eyes. He was sure it'd be amusing to watch. "I meant if we just shifted time a couple dozen years in the future, darling. Quite simple. I did not mean a couple dozen years in the future with us having been born at the same times as we were." He pointed out flatly, shaking his head. "I would not appreciate living that long. Good thing I don't have to worry about it." He was sure to get killed before then, by the human hand, most likely. Shot would be the likely case scenario. Not a fatal wound, though. Just one where he couldn't move. He'd lay, bleeding out, thinking about who he should've killed when he had the chance. "Armor and Swords were made by the human hand." He answered quietly, in the same low, no nonsense yet somehow slightly sarcastic tone as always. "I mean natural armor. Claws. Sharp teeth. Humans weren't even blessed with good senses." Axl snorted quietly. It was a shame, really. And they still grew all cocky and decided to mess with shit that shouldn't be messed with. "But yes, you get it. They had to survive and mess up the world." More than they already had, that is.

.

"I feel equal parts insulted and gratified. Somehow you managed to call me an 'it', and still work out a way to respond." His gaze flashed with dry amusement, or what could've been that, anyway. "Most people do." He scoffed. "I'm just taking from prior experience. I haven't been given anything in the means of food for two weeks." His calculating mind flashed a number before his eyes, the exact time in which he had not eaten. He deemed it unhelpful and sent the information away. Axl turned and slowly followed her, his footsteps eerily silent and head raised high. Humans could torture him, but they could never bring him down. He may not be able to stand some days, but he would always have his fierce pride. His nostrils twitched slightly as he took in all the scents. He then turned his gaze to the one soul who dared approach the beast and her.

.

He refrained from speaking, instead observing. His sharp eyes flitted around and took everything in, his mind scrolled text down his vision giving him exact distances, and a minute later, blueprints of the building. He observed it for a moment before letting the information disappear, glancing quickly around the small room-ish thing. "No painkillers. That's my only ask." He finally spoke firmly, turning his cold, piercing gaze to the medical personnel, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched them. After a moment, he remembered something, and lifted a hand to the chains around his torso. Wrapping his cyborg hand around them, he waited a moment, then they started glowing red hot. He had melted the one part in a matter of a minute or so, and let the rest of it clatter onto the ground. It had burned his torso slightly, but it was nothing compared to the other wounds, and he could barely feel it at this point. He let his metal hand cool down before returning it to his side, wings twitching out slightly to where he'd normally hold them. There. Now he was completely free. Now they were truly all in a High risk area. He ran his tongue over his fangs, debating if this was the wrong choice- more warnings buzzed in his head about hunger, and he could feel it gnawing at his stomach like an angry beast. Axl decided he would just have to suck it up and be fine, though. He also decided that any rebellions would wait until after he was fed. Mineswell let his captors feed him before he killed them.

Lieutenant Calvert

ᓚᘏᗢ

"Ah, so I should just shoot you now?" Norrie asked, flicking the safety back on without really thinking about it before aiming the muzzle of her gun in his general direction in a mock threat, almost sarcastically. "I 'unno, you've been pretty entertaining so far." And hoepfully would continue to be so. Ideally, he'd be the killer of people Norrie couldn't kill and punisher of those she couldn't punish.

"Uh-huh. How sad," She said flatly. Shit may end badly for Norrie if she didn't at least make an attempt to keep him from tormenting people, but hey, fake it 'till you make it.

"Ayuh. I advise against trying it," Norrie said pointedly. "Hey, darling is right next to bitch and dipshit," She huffed, scowling. She didn't give a shit how casually or sarcastically it was used, nobody called Norrie darling. "Besides, I don't think you know how shit's gonna be in a coupla decades. This could be the best it's ever gonna be, and it's all downhill from here," She pointed out. Wasn't that how the world had gone so far, though? It just kept getting shitter and shittier, and the optimists were always wrong. "Well yeah, duh, but armor and swords were made for a lack of natural defense and offense." If people had turtle shells, they wouldn't need armor. "It's about time for another mass extinction event," She mused darkly.

"Well, you referred to yourself as the monster in the third person, and that's not really a phrase that comes across as having gender connotations," Norrie countered. "Oh yeah, I'm most people," She snorted, then let out a sigh that was almost more of a growl. "Ho-lee fuck. I think I really well and truly understand what started slavery- some poor bastards happened to be different and that was apparently their fault." The fact he was different BECAUSE of the 'slave owners' only made it worse.

At his request of no painkillers, Doctor Dan the Band-Aid Man looked to Norrie for approval, and she just shrugged and said, "Whatever the fuck he wants, I don't care." Doctor Dan just went about his business as usual, though stopped and stared like a cotton-headed ninny muggins as Axl melted the last of his restraints before mumbling something like well that takes care of that I guess. He set to work patching up Axl with a grim determination, starting with the lacerations and stab wounds, disinfecting them all before stitching up the worst of them. As he worked, he slowly relaxed and his nervousness visibly lessened, and at one point he chuckled and said, "Y'know, you're lucky we don't use Mercurichrome anymore, that stuff was baaad." The cuts taken care of, he moved onto the burns, and made quick work of it. Once finished, he straighened, stretched a little, and asked, "Well, there's the surface-level things done. Got anything else for me?"

+++

Lieutenant Calvert

ᓚᘏᗢ

"Hey, I'm not the one who was supposed to be euthanized for being 'too dangerous'. Better safe than sorry," Norrie said sharply. He could be offended all he wanted, but it was like trying to pet a rabid, aggressive dog when the handlers had to be dressed in fucking ARMOR just to get near it. "Uh-huh, and by the looks of it, you are. Well done," She snorted sarcastically.

"No shit, Sherlock, you poke a bear with a stick it'll get its attention too," She huffed, scowl deepening at his smirk. He was amusing, sure, but holy shit was he a pain in the ass. Maybe he wasn't even dangerous, per se, just so goddamn annoying that everyone got tired of him. If so, Norrie couldn't really blame them. For that one little thing, at least.

"Damn right I am," Norrie said, choosing to take it as a compliment. She was definitely no lying, cheating, sniveling human. Maybe a harsh, no-nonsense, aggresive one, though. If she WAS a lawyer, however, she'd probably intimidate the judge into whatever outcome she was being paid for... but unintentionally. "Riiight, but the last time you did eat, was it good food?" She asked. It was easier to go long periods of time without eating if you had good, healthy enough food. If you lived offa junk food and animal by-product meal 'n shit, guess what, ain't gonna do so well so long.

"I see," said Doctor Dan the Band-Aid Man, "Let's start with the ribs. A puntured lung would be the most likely thing; any chest pain, like a sharp, stabbing pain that worsens with deep breaths or coughing? Shortness of breath, rapid heart rate, fatigue, back or shoulder pain? Or coughing up blood?" If it was only some minor sympoms, they may be able to just monitor it with regular x-rays until the lung re-expands on its own. If it was more severe... well, it wouldn't be so simple, but at least surgery was the last option, there were other things to try before it came to that.

(I swear this rp is gonna make me so smort in the ways of modern medicine xD)

Lieutenant Calvert

ᓚᘏᗢ

"Well then I'll keep that in mind," Norrie said, "though you may have to remind Jackson over there sometimes." Jackson, who'd kinda just been standing there doing nothing in particular and not paying full attention, glanced lazily at Norrie and asked, "Remind me of what?" To which Norrie almost let out an oh for fuck's sake, but to her credit, she held her tongue.

"Well thanks for that. I guess that makes me somewhat obligated to not get annoyed with you and shoot you," She said with a snort. That'd just me a waste of a perfectly good enough life, and a shitton of time and effort.

"Gee thanks Nostradamus, that was kind of a rhetorical question. While I can't promise a 7 course, 5-star gourmet meal every day, I can at least provide the average meal of a working class citizen," Norrie said flatly. While the cooks here were certainly no Gordon Ramseys, it was at least two steps above prison food. It generally tasted somewhat better than it looked, which was certainly quite the improvement from whatever Axl'd been fed before.

Doctor Dan the Band-Aid Man nodded along as Axl spoke, and let out on oh dear under his breath. "We-ell, you've got me a little stumped here. Obviously the coughing up blood isn't good, but the fact you're not experiencing any shortness of breath is a bit odd. You don't feel... oxygen deprived?" He thought for a moment before asking slowly, "Your... uh... metal bits and bobs- do you know exactly what material we got goin' on there?" Depending on what the cyborg parts were made of, an MRI could be outta the question, and it could cause artifacts [distortions] in the images if they opted for a CT scan instead. Annnnd if he had a bad enough concussion, a CT scan or MRI might be needed to check for bleeding or swelling in the brain.

+++

Axl turned his head, slowly, to look at Jackson, barely resisting an eyeroll at the dumbfounded look on their face. "Wisdom has always been chasing you, but you have always been faster." He commented drily. One of his favorite quotes, right next to: Make a plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails... throw away the plan. That was his entire life. Make a logical plan that accounts for everything, execute this logical plan with common sense in a neat and orderly way, expect this perfectly set up plan to fail, and when it does, ditch it and all the hard work that he put into it.

"I'm glad you are somewhat obligated not to shoot me. I am somewhat obligated not to tear your throat out with my bare hands, so we're even." He flashed a hard smile, not a humorous one.

"An average meal sounds delightful, so you don't have to provide a 7 course 5 star gourmet one." He snorted. "I can't even eat that much food." He was more of a eat once in a day and not have to eat for the next 3 kinda guy. As long as the meal was normal sized, not a LIVE CHICKEN like the last thing he was given. He remembered wanting to tear THEIR heads off and feast on their brains, then reminded himself there was nothing to feast on. And he hated brains. He had to kill the chicken, dissect it with his claws, and eat the raw breast. It was less than ideal. He didn't really love eating raw food, either, although he wasn't like a human where he did that and died. Every month came around a time where he craved hunting... he just wanted to go out, hunt a rabbit, and eat some raw, bloody meat chops. Any other time, he preferred his steak medium rare.

"I have larger lungs than the normal human, but I'm used to breathing less oxygen. I was constantly put in scenarios where I could barely breathe, and I made due. Because of this, whenever I have full use of my lungs, I get more oxygen than I really need and feel extremely energized. When I don't, like if a lung was punctured, per say, it feels normal, not like I'm out of breath." He explained evenly. Axl remembered one time where the assholes attached him to this machine that literally squeezed his lungs until he was gasping for air, just to see how little oxygen he could take in before fainting. The answer was VERY little. "Mostly titanium, I belive. Which means it shouldn't be a problem." He rumbled, wrinkling his nose. "I wasn't exactly awake, or even fully alive when they replaced my arm and put some shit into my skull. I had just gotten blown in two pieces." He stated drily, eye twitching slightly at the memory. Burning pain, then nothing, then more pain as he started to wake up. And the toddler like fear of having a metal arm. That had to be fucking REPLACED every year for 12 years because he grew. Thankfully, now, he had his last model in. The most dangerous, by far.

-

(Not me totally spitballing on what the hell it's made out of xD. I only said that because my research showed it was common for metal implants, but a whole flipping arm is a LITTLE more than an implant)

Lieutenant Calvert

ᓚᘏᗢ

Jackson was utterly perplexed by Axl's comment, to say the least. He just stared at the hybrid bovinely with all the intelligence of an ox in his eyes, and after a few seconds, it visibly [and almost adubly, Norrie though] clicked into place in his skull, and just glared at Axl sulkily.

"Yeah, even," Norrie said. It felt like a dramatic fuckin cowboy showdown, both parties wriggling their fingers above the butt of a gun and waiting for high noon- though in this case, 'high noon' was just the other person making a violent move first.

"Well good, cuz even if you wanted that, ain't nobody here a gourmet chef," She snorted. It was more of just average joes who weren't good for much else in the kitchen, and hiring some great chef who'd want to sprinkle GOLD DUST on everything was just fuckin stupid. He could take his gold dust and shove it up his ass and to the left.

Doctor Dan looked increasingly perplexed as Axl spoke; he looked the way Norrie imagined DaVinci might've while painting the Mona Lisa- like he didn't know where the fuck to go from here. "Oh-kay... uhh... just try to avoid overly strenuous activities for the next week or two, and come see me if anything gets worse," He said slowly. If Axl was still alive and doing just fine[ish], it prooobably wasn't THAT big of an issue. "Titanium... alright," He said quietly, then blinked at the hybrid trying to be sure he'd heard correctly. "Well, uh, okay, understandable, I guess," He said. Damn. "Alright, lets move onto the concussion you mentioned; any loss of consciousness, repeated vomiting, seizures, or severe headaches?" Doctor Dan asked. That would indicate a severe concussion, and probably swelling and/or bleeding of the brain.

(lmao fair, that's what my research brought up too xD I gotta go, but when I get back I'll look into it more :3)

+++

Axl waited, and waited, staring expectantly at the man. He would've just ignored it, but that phrase was so painstakingly clearly an insult, he NEEDED to know how long it took the guy to get it. He was about to die of old age when their face finally registered and their eyes narrowed into he least threatening glare he'd ever seen in his entire life. "My calculations say that took him 46.359 seconds to figure out, from the second I finished speaking to when he understood. I am amazed and flabbergasted. Is he always like this?" He directed the wonderings to Norrie. "I had yet to meet someone it took that long to understand that simple phrase. I guess I can check that off my list." He shook his head. Well, this was the military, where people came to be big buff idiots and there were few actual smart, good people. He felt a twinge of relief that he had met the ONE interesting person here, and that they seemed to be mostly in charge of whatever would happen to him.

Axl watched her for a moment more before inclining his head slightly, moving his mind's focus to the next goal. "I'm sure I could cook with the best of them. As of this moment, I have 20,000 recipes stored in my internal database." He stated with a slightly amused look. He hadn't realized they had programs RECIPES, but when he had checked, sure enough... recipes. To dinnrs, desserts, everything you could think of. Even apple crisp, now that he checked. Delicious.

He tried not to smirk at the dumbfounded look on the doctors face, like they didn't have a fucking clue on how to procede or what to say. His almost smirk turned into a bark of laughter at the next words. "Avoid overly strenuous activites? " He repeated with a hearty snort. "As IF. I don't know whether I'll be blown up tomorrow or have to run ten miles next week, Doctor. I don't think avoiding strenuous activites is in my database." He shook his head. No, he'd just have to survive. If he died, whoop-dee-doo. No one would miss him. "Loss of consciousness, sure, but I dunno if its from the concussion or not. A day ago, it was... oh yeah, hit in the head. With the butt of a gun. That caused 'loss of consciousness'. About an hour after that, self induced... I held my breath until I fainted. I was so sick of being kicked- someone got angry. A little while after that, it was just exhaustion, after that, it was PROBABLY my wounds but could've been something else... earlier today, blood loss... there may have been one more." He mused, head tilted towards he ceiling slightly as he thought. "Vomiting, sure, but I assumed it was from the wounds... no seizures... headaches, sure, but I'm pretty sure that one came from being smacked in the head. That may have aided the concussion, now that I think about it." He smiled slightly, a twisted, crooked smile. Not a real humorous one. A: I'm so fucking surprised I'm not dead one. "Nothin' we can reaaally do about it, though, so chalk it up to 'rest' again, eh?" He snorted.