|
Post by Sir_Integral on Mar 13, 2010 21:10:39 GMT -5
The entire ride home, all she could think about was getting back to the manner in time to meet her mercenary and fellow knight. Word from base was that Winfield was injured, possibly in shock. Anything other that a private flight from a known government institution would have never been allowed out of the country, and would have been forbidden to re-enter with the virus the knight may or may not have. The rain covered the gray flood waters of the roads, obstructing the driver's vision further. Rain droplets still stood on the lenses of her glasses, and in her hair, She'd left her hat in the cafe, on sharp turns, and every turn on that particular drive home was sharp, the droplets would slide down her golden hair, occasionally dripping into her lap unpleasantly. A raindrop streams across her lense, and she hands the spectacles to Prudence. “Dry these for me.” She orders, and for Christ's sake, hold onto something, Prudence.” She snaps at her friend.
They take a longer route home, but they arrive in half the time it took them to leisurely make their way to the hole-in-the-wall cafe. Along the way, they hydroplane at least twice, Integral reigning in the huge car just as the front tires manage to slide off the tiny country roads. Upon arrival home, the knight guns it through the gates, standing open. They begin to close after the vehicle passes onto the family grounds. They'd obviously been expecting the women's return. She doesn't return the land yacht to the garage, but slides to a stop before the formal entrance to her home. The engine killed, she's out of the vehicle and up the stairs, stumbling once along the steps, and is through the front door before her companion can get her safety belt off.
She slips on her hasty way to the infirmary, and catches her jacket on a table some maid had moved to clean the floor, a hole torn in her pocket as she rounds the corner and takes the stairs as quickly as possible down a floor to her men. She skids to a halt. So many of them. Pip Bernedot's men, now her's as well. She says a quick prayer that most of them were in after a bar fight, or something less, but she knew better. She knew the way the first man gazed at her with hollow eyes, and another gave her a weak salute that they would go home before evening. She walks now, and manages to keep her head proud as she proceeds through the half-corpses, carefully examining each, weaving through the attendants, looking for Bernedot's wide hat or Allaster's jet hair.
She spots the hat, not on the man's head, but on a table, and knows her search is almost over. “Captain!” She calls, almost running into the clear plastic barrier between herself, and the men on the other side.
Quarantined. They were contaminated, clearly from the American strain of the virus. Allaster had, of course, collapsed in the streets of New Orleans. She blinks at the end of her fellow knight's bed. This was going to be a bitch to explain to the Round Table Conference, and she feared one would have to be called soon. A shiver runs down her spine as she blinks at the fallen knight twitching on the table before her.
|
|
|
Post by Sir Allastor Winfield on Mar 14, 2010 15:26:08 GMT -5
Blackness. That is all the knight has known since the wild trip in America. Upon finding no real leads on the virus, Allastor had suddenly dropped amongst the crowded street. As he was rushed home, his world faded into a dark void filled with pain that could only be compared to having every bone in the human body being snapped all at once with their veins pumping fiery hot thumb tacks throughout the body instead of blood. In this unconscious state of pain, he had constant feverish dreams of those he loved being slain before him by an unseen hand, and not being able to rescue them. Those dreams were plagued with the laughter of a familiar elderly voice. He was handled with care when put in the infirmary, although still locked in pain. Finally, his mind had turned on. He was aware of his surroundings, but for the life of him, could not open his eyes. :: Am I dead...? No...I can feel my heart beating...OW! Yeah...that's really not good...Feels like my heart is pumping rusty nails through me...I swear if I get out of this...I'll stop drinking...God please...just let me up!!!:: Then, a favored voice rang out in the darkness. 'Captain!' :: Oh holy shit...is that Integral...? Open your damned eyes, Allastor Jared! Get one last good look at her!!:: Straining his pain filled body, Allastor forced his eyes open, but was only able to get them half way open. "...Hey...Did you finally come to confess your...ow...love for me, Sir Hellsing?" He let out a pained laugh and grinned weakly. "So...did you bring the bookworm? Oh oh oh...ow ow ow...Better yet...am i gonna make it...Dr...Tegs...Hellsing...? Bwahaha...ow ow ow!" He broke out in a savage cough, still trying to smile.
|
|
|
Post by Prudence on Mar 14, 2010 17:06:25 GMT -5
Prudence rushed up behind Integral and stopped to catch her breath before looking up. It was incredible how Integral could move faster than Prudence's running speed and yet still seem to just be quickly walking. She started to ask, "What happened" as she lifted her gaze from off the tile floor, but it came out as, "What happ--," followed by a sharp intake of air and her hands flying to her mouth. Eyes wide, she glanced all around the infirmary. All of them? she thought. What could have possibly happened? Her mind raced with questions, but she couldn't voice any of them. It was a rare occasion that left Prudence at a loss for words, and yet here it was. Instead, she only continued to glance around frantically, moving only her eyes; the rest of her was paralyzed in uncertain terror.
|
|
|
Post by Sir Allastor Winfield on Mar 14, 2010 17:28:21 GMT -5
Allastor's gaze went from Integral to Prudence before forcing another laugh. "Holy shit...Good ol' Prudy has the deer caught in headlights look." He grunted while forcing himself to a sitting position, wincing a bit. "Ah hell...I must have stroked out or somethin' in New Orleans. I feel..." His sentence is cut off as he grips at his chest coughing hard. "I feel fine...Can I get up and get some real clothes back on...?" He winked at Integral before making a kissing expression at Prudence. "Then I can deliver my report...Sir."
|
|
|
Post by Pip on Mar 14, 2010 22:11:46 GMT -5
"Jeez homme! You've been through hell and back and you still have ze wind to make a crack at ze fille! But at least we know we got you back!" Sitting up the mercenary rubs his sore shoulder blades. "Next time ... please do me the favor of not passing out on me, you are not a light homme! Throwing a nod of affirmation towards the resident female visitors in the room, Pip reclines back on the gurney. "Bon jour ladies! If you can be so kind ... mind bringing a homme a glass of scotch on the rocks, I think I pulled a muscle carrying that one's ass down the French quarter. Now where is mon fille ... I can use a back rub"
|
|
|
Post by Sir_Integral on Mar 14, 2010 23:14:19 GMT -5
The knight pulls Prudence to her side. “They're the victims of last week's raid.” She whispers sadly, it wrenched her heart to see her men in such condition. She was tough on them, but the last thing she wanted to see was her men dying. They were specialists, everyone of them, called to serve under her by either herself for Queen and Country. Even the Frenchman's soldiers were the best the good Captain had managed to keep alive. “My position is built upon a mountain of graves.” She murmurs, running a hand through her hair. She plucks up a surgical mask and forces it into Prudence's hand. “Put this on.” She orders.
Once she saw the mask in place, she pulls another from it's sterile packaging and ties it quickly, then opens the sealed doorway and steps through, leaving her friend on the other side of the small, clear plastic chamber containing the three warriors. She catches Pip mid-sentence, examining the eye that wasn't covered by the patch. The overhead lights burning his tired eye for several moments. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew death when she saw it in a man's eyes. Nothing.. He was tired, brows knit in pain a bit as he massages his shoulder, but she saw nothing but shock at her sudden movement. Allaster was next. She turns and cups his face in her hands, turning it gently left and right, letting the light blind the ill man in each eye briefly. Her own eyes narrow. They were different, somehow. Darker? She didn't like it. “You 're not going anywhere until someone looks you over, Gentlemen.” She sighs, lowering herself to the corner of his bed, her hand landing beside his. She takes it suddenly, not to hold, but to examine. “You've at least been scraped up.” She tuts, looking over the grimy scratch.
|
|
|
Post by Sir Allastor Winfield on Mar 15, 2010 12:24:44 GMT -5
He cocked his head to Pip and grinned wider. "well pardon me for having a seizure or somethin', bro. Glad you carried me home, you are my hero." He laughs a bit and squeezes Integral's hand lightly. "Listen, boss...Dim the lights a bit...too bright for me...and uh...by the way..." He coughs hard and shows her the scratch. "The scratch...I FELL! I passed out and hit the ground! I'm gonna get a scratch!" He cackled a bit before suddenly stopping. He felt something pound in his back of his head, a constant "tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump" rang in his ears as he looked from his dearest comrade to his boss. "I've got to file the paperwork on this case, babydoll. So if you don't mind..." He struggled to turn his body out of the bed and feebly stand. "I'm gonna get to work..." Allastor couldn't believe how hard it was to merely stand, as he tried to take one step at a time, before nearly falling down face first. "Ho-shit!" He grabbed the edge of the bed for support as he walked. "I'm okay!"
|
|
|
Post by Prudence on Mar 16, 2010 3:15:17 GMT -5
Prudence's eyes twitched slightly as she continued to look over the scene silently, now masked to prevent...what could she possibly even need it for? The attempts as lightheartedness were, as far as Prudence was concerned, completely transparent. Where normally she'd be frustrated with Pip and Allastor for acting as though none of this was serious, in this setting, it only worried her more. She found herself struggling not to allow tears into her eyes. It would be embarrassing to start crying now. Especially about people she didn't even particularly like. She swallowed hard, hoping it would put away the lump forming in her throat.
"What...," she managed to choke out in a raspy voice, but found she didn't have the rest of the question prepared. There was only, "what."
|
|
|
Post by Sir Allastor Winfield on Mar 16, 2010 9:35:11 GMT -5
His vision blurred and the room spun while he attempted to walk. That's enough of that, said his body without words as he plopped down at the foot of his bed. "what, what? Its just a bunch of sick guys, Bookworm. Dry your eyes and save your tears for a funeral." He grinned and winked at her. "Oi. Pip! Lets get outta here...We got papers to file and whatnot..." He gripped his head and leaned forward. The "tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump" was even louder and playing faster and faster in his head. It was beginning to sound like someone had taken several tape recorders that were playing audio of heartbeats at various speeds and turned them all the way up. "On second thought..." He lay back and grimaced. "I think I'll just...lay here for a minute...that okay with you, dollface?"
|
|
|
Post by Pip on Mar 17, 2010 11:16:19 GMT -5
"Oi kiddo, you don't look to good .... maybe you should take a break" Scratching his head in confusion Pip gave his commanding officer a puzzled look. "Speaking of which ... why ze hell do I feel absolutely normal when that one there is all sea legs?"
|
|
|
Post by Sir_Integral on Mar 17, 2010 23:49:41 GMT -5
She glances at Prudence, just as Allastor trips over himself. “Prudence, love, maybe you shou—Woah!” She stands and leans forward to help the man as he catches himself on the bed. “You're not to do anything until you're given orders by a doctor, Winfield. You're in absolutely shoddy condition. I can't have you tripping about the hallways. She smiles weakly, remembering the man's midnight tumble down the stairs in the wheelchair. “You're bad enough when you're well.” Once he was back in bed she crosses the plastic room to stand before her friend, placing a hand against the wall between them. “You should go upstairs and have yourself a cup of tea...” It was pitiful, the way she looked at them, and it would only get worse. She stands blinking at her best friend. “I've no idea, captain. I'm thankful for it, though.” She turns to face him. “I want you to stay down here, You're the only one that can help tell the doctors what's happened to Sir. Winfield, but I also need you to begin working on your report.” She glances at Allastor, then crosses to his bed to pull the thin blanket over him. “I'll bring an extra form for you, you can work on it when you're feeling a bit better...keep the doctors posted on your condition...I know you feel terrible, you've got to keep them informed.” She brushes a bit of his unruly hair from his eyes. “Don't hide anything from them, either. Every time something changes, or you feel different, you MUST tell someone. It could mean you save a life.” She turns to the plastic entrance, her hand resting against the Velcro seam. “Gentlemen...one more thing...Mister Whaley, Did he return with you? He's a vampire, of course, he'll be fine, but he....He's obviously not with you.”
|
|
|
Post by Prudence on Mar 18, 2010 3:58:52 GMT -5
Prudence inhales deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves before speaking. "It's just," she starts to Integral in a hushed tone, hands near her face to cover her mouth, as though one could keep secrets in here, "I'm not stupid. They're trying to brush this off like it was nothing and I...." She glances back around the room, and specifically at Pip and Allastor, which she immediately decides is a terrible idea. "I don't know which option terrifies me more: that this is a special sort of disaster that can only be traced to something more terrible...or that this is just how it usually is around here and I managed to only witness a long dry spell so far." She throws a sidelong glance to the floor on the other side of the room before adding, "I'm not exactly used to this sort of sight."
|
|
|
Post by Sir_Integral on Mar 21, 2010 1:55:24 GMT -5
“It's a bit of both, I'm afraid.” The knight sighs, slipping an arm through her friend's in order to lead her away from the men in the plastic room. She motions to the men around them now, then same pitiful lot that had, even on their deathbeds, acknowledged her as their leader. “This...is nothing unusual.” She murmurs, running a hand through her hair, with the same hand, the motions to Allastor and Pip. “Sir. Winfield's condition, however, is. I knew it was foolish to send anyone other than the undead into that country!” She curses under her breath. “Now one of my peers is ill and my best office may very well have one of HOWEVER many unidentified diseases. Prudence...I know it's a lot to ask, and so suddenly...but please, I need your help...You're the only the person capable of getting this kind of information to the public... We need your book out as soon as humanly possiable."
|
|
|
Post by Sir Allastor Winfield on Mar 21, 2010 14:07:52 GMT -5
He stared at Integral, blinking. "Mr. Whaley...? Andrew Whaley...?" He glanced at Pip then back to her, with a confused expression. "I never saw him. He wasn't with us when I collapsed...It was just me...Pip and that old fart...Silas...Silas Dubois..." His eyes widened and he coughed hard. "THAT MOTHERFUCKER! I THINK I KNOW WHERE THE SICKNESS IS COMIN' FROM!" He coughed harder and fell back, paler than before.
|
|
|
Post by Sir_Integral on Mar 24, 2010 2:02:41 GMT -5
"Who--?" The knight turns, unwinding her arm from her friend's and rips through the velcroed door. She slips an arm under the sick man, the other resting on his chest, than briefly on his forehead. "Bernadotte, what the hell is he talking about?" She demands.
|
|