toasty.
WHO: Brenda, Mark, Jaime
WHERE: A hospital near or around Alto Lucero, Mexico
WHEN: Evening, 7/27
WARNINGS: Elle bullshits government procedure here and there, but lol what comic doesn't
SUMMARY: Hours after the Laguna Verde incident, Brenda and Mark zip on down to make sure the little beetle's not too nuked.
FORMAT: No
All things considered, Jaime was really lucky. Lucky to have alien armor that could shield most of him in a pinch, lucky to have gotten to that reactor in time, lucky Tim had overridden the controls and shut off that chamber from the rest of the facility...
Lucky tasted pretty mush and bland down in Alto Lucero, though. Nobody died, which was good, but there were still a lot of injuries. Burns and a few broken bones from falling equipment...the Blue Beetle couldn't be everywhere at once. At least, not here; Scarab hadn't quite managed to find its way back to the Bleed after all that time. It was frustrating knowing what he could do didn't necessarily apply to what could be done here.
There wasn't very much time for cheering or celebrating when Jaime'd dragged himself out of the building, still singed and scorched from hugging that blast. It had taken him a while to actually hear what was being barked at him-- a flurry of questions and demands, most of them in Spanish. It had been a while since he'd conversed in that language, but it was like riding a bike...
...Right into an international mess.
Who are you? Who are you affiliated with? Did you do this? Are you one of the American heroes? Who sent you? How did you know to come here? Why? How? When? What?
Fun times. Eventually, one of the rescue workers had shooed most of the inquirers out of the way, walking Jaime along to an ambulance; the boy was barely paying attention, head still buzzing. Why was Tim apologizing? What did he say about...some evil self-?
He was assigned a private room despite protests; Scarab was already numbing the pain of the burns and lacerations, and it was really only a matter of time before he healed up on his own, but it was hard to convince anyone of that. Jaime couldn't blame them, really, but the way those security guards had eyed him made him uncomfortable. If you leave, someone said, then it might start something really serious. I know you're not a real American, but if that's where you're from...
Crap.
Jaime had just gotten to the small flood of messages from friends back home, his voice still too hoarse to be at all reassuring. He was fairly certain he could diffuse a lot of the worry until then, but Brenda wasn't going to settle for that, it seemed. He flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling tiles. It wasn't like he wouldn't be happy to see her, but this was...messy. And not just his face.
He just hoped his throat healed up fast enough if he needed to talk them out of trouble.
WHERE: A hospital near or around Alto Lucero, Mexico
WHEN: Evening, 7/27
WARNINGS: Elle bullshits government procedure here and there, but lol what comic doesn't
SUMMARY: Hours after the Laguna Verde incident, Brenda and Mark zip on down to make sure the little beetle's not too nuked.
FORMAT: No
All things considered, Jaime was really lucky. Lucky to have alien armor that could shield most of him in a pinch, lucky to have gotten to that reactor in time, lucky Tim had overridden the controls and shut off that chamber from the rest of the facility...
Lucky tasted pretty mush and bland down in Alto Lucero, though. Nobody died, which was good, but there were still a lot of injuries. Burns and a few broken bones from falling equipment...the Blue Beetle couldn't be everywhere at once. At least, not here; Scarab hadn't quite managed to find its way back to the Bleed after all that time. It was frustrating knowing what he could do didn't necessarily apply to what could be done here.
There wasn't very much time for cheering or celebrating when Jaime'd dragged himself out of the building, still singed and scorched from hugging that blast. It had taken him a while to actually hear what was being barked at him-- a flurry of questions and demands, most of them in Spanish. It had been a while since he'd conversed in that language, but it was like riding a bike...
...Right into an international mess.
Who are you? Who are you affiliated with? Did you do this? Are you one of the American heroes? Who sent you? How did you know to come here? Why? How? When? What?
Fun times. Eventually, one of the rescue workers had shooed most of the inquirers out of the way, walking Jaime along to an ambulance; the boy was barely paying attention, head still buzzing. Why was Tim apologizing? What did he say about...some evil self-?
He was assigned a private room despite protests; Scarab was already numbing the pain of the burns and lacerations, and it was really only a matter of time before he healed up on his own, but it was hard to convince anyone of that. Jaime couldn't blame them, really, but the way those security guards had eyed him made him uncomfortable. If you leave, someone said, then it might start something really serious. I know you're not a real American, but if that's where you're from...
Crap.
Jaime had just gotten to the small flood of messages from friends back home, his voice still too hoarse to be at all reassuring. He was fairly certain he could diffuse a lot of the worry until then, but Brenda wasn't going to settle for that, it seemed. He flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling tiles. It wasn't like he wouldn't be happy to see her, but this was...messy. And not just his face.
He just hoped his throat healed up fast enough if he needed to talk them out of trouble.