(024) Twenty-Fourth Report [>>Audio -> Video]

[zerosuitjill]

[The sound of a muffled crash starts the feed: something heavy hitting something equally heavy, followed by the clatter of multiple objects falling. Labored breathing can be heard after; the occasional hiss of interference suggests the person must be nearly on top of the tablet's microphone.]

This is -- Valentine. Jill Valentine. [Her voice is as

Comments

[Action]

[satangotmylungs]

[His first thought? OH SHIT. His second thought? Should I even say anything? She told him not to come in, after all. No means no.

There's a good minute before he's at the door, rapping his knuckles loud enough to be heard through terrible, wracking pains. He tries to keep it soft enough not to make her panic, though he's not sure, exactly, how that would work.

Bare feet shuffle against the carpet as he thinks of what to say, while the kitten seems to come to attention near the door as well.]

Just my luck.

[And then, through the door:]

Need a hand?

[Action] jeez she's barely conscious and I still tl;dr

[zerosuitjill]

[Honestly, she knows that she does.

She knows her effort to take responsibility was ironically a little reckless -- but given what little time she had, it was all she could think to do.

She knows she needs help; the T-Virus aside, who knows what other infections she'll be exposed to while she lies here, or how long her makeshift bandage will stop the blood?

...And besides, Carlos was with her the first time and he was fine. He held her hand through the worst of it, even, despite that Jill was too numb to feel it most of the time...

But she doesn't take chances with lives (besides her own), and there's not sufficient time to explain everything. It doesn't help that her senses are serving as a pretty garbled filter to her mind at the moment, making clear thought extremely difficult -- and mixing memories. All she hears is a man's voice, and the hallucinations decide to play on it.]

...I... never told you...

[Her voice is soft, sad, but close to the door -- she collapsed all but in front of it.] ...I'm so sorry, Chris.

[Action] And then John just walks awaaayyyy

[satangotmylungs]

[John's thoughts are quite as garbled, nor is he taking a trip down horrifying memory lane. No, he's simply on the other side of the door with the kitten, which is looking at him as though to provide the answer to what's going on with its owner.

He's not sure about who Chris is, though memory seems to suggest he's her partner, and leaving it at that. He takes a moment to figure out what to do, but only says:]

Do I need to pick the lock or do you want me to break the door down?

[Action] rofl

[zerosuitjill]

[A pause, during which there's only breathing.

Then, slurred,] Don'... youdare...

[Which is as close as she can come right now to Chris Redfield don't you dare punch that door down I will kill you.

And the closest she can come to an explanation, in her current state, comes out as a lost murmur after another pause.]

...Category A, Biohazard Threat Level Four. Quarantine... two-zero-one. Code Black. Im...mediate...

[Action]

[satangotmylungs]

[John doesn't understand her bio-cop mumbo jumbo. How could he? He's a lowly exorcist.

So he's gone, but for only a moment. Long enough to go to his room and retrieve a metal bat. Long enough to drag it down the hall and take it to the door. He can't break a door down with his elbow, but he sure as hell can break it down with a Goddamn metal bat.]

[Action]

[zerosuitjill]

[That's one way to snap her to attention.

She jumps, agitating her wounded shoulder -- but the pain's something of a relief. She should be numb by now, shouldn't she? If she isn't, she'll take that as a sign that her immune system's in overdrive.

If the fatigue wasn't obvious enough.

She rolls onto her back, growling -- pain, effort, frustration -- and gripping just below her shoulder out of reflex.]

Don't...

Don't...!

[Action]

[satangotmylungs]

[John knows that no means no. He's a big fan of that fact, really. But no + blood loss + extreme confusion = need medical help, yes? And if he has to break down the wall, that's what he'll do.

He pushes past the battered door and into the room, hand still gripping the bat tightly. He doesn't want to hurt her, but if this something that'll end up with her jumping up and surprising him with a good beat down, he may as well be prepared a bit this time around.]

We need to do something about that bleeding, Jill. You know where you're at? You know who I am?

[Action]

[zerosuitjill]

[There's a glazed look in her eyes as they find him -- and there's a little fear, too, between the pain and the weariness. Her right shoulder's the only visible injury, the bloodstains indicating there's an entry and exit wound -- and oddly enough, they line up perfectly with the scars in those places.

The blood loss isn't near fatal yet, but there's enough on her torso and hand and the carpet beneath her as well as the T-shirt she's using as a tourniquet to say it's not stopping.

She recognizes him, but that's not as important as the fact that he needs to get the hell away from her before he does something stupid.]

Don't -- touchme-- [The effort it takes just to say that is painfully obvious -- but it stimulates her brain a little more.] It -- kills everyone. You can't do -- anything--

[So just go I'm fine there's no sense in taking that chance]

[Action]

[satangotmylungs]

[John grips the bat still, weighing options.]

If this is a trick, and you kick me, I'll put a dent in your head on the way down. [With that established, he reaches down for her good shoulder, thinks again about how it doesn't feel all that great to be dragged by the arm, and instead moves his hand down her chest and to her side with every intention of rolling her over. A test, really, to make sure she's not about to put on a pair of shades and kicked his spleen out his ass. And if he can get her over, the bat will be on the floor and a bloody bio-pig in his arms.] No one kills me but me.

[Action]

[zerosuitjill]

[If she could kick him, she would. If she had the strength to do more than mumble and moan, she would slam a leg into his chest when he got close enough, knocking him back and snarling at him to stop playing hero because damn it all she's the only one who can handle this--

But she can't resist, and so there's only another harsh exhale as John takes her up. Jill does, at least, have the muddled mindset not to writhe or struggle or do anything that could potentially increase contamination, although she does lean her head away from him.]

Acting... outofline.

[Her eyes close, her body immediately relaxing after -- and it's so tempting to just let go and separate herself from the pain already.

But she holds on, as well as she can -- it won't be for much longer.]

[Action]

[satangotmylungs]

Yeah, I'm real fuckin' outta line.

[Down the hall as quick as he can, kicking the bathroom door open. Kitten manages to keep his distance and watch from the door, which John finds creepier than hell.

He lowers her carefully in the bathtub, grabbing a few towels out of the closet and propping one behind her head. Without hesitation, he turns the shower on, cold water pelleting his white shirt and tie and neck as he immediately goes to undo her shirt.]

Stay with me, now. Don't go running off into Sleepy Time. Looks like it really hurts, but just keep up with me, okay? Let's get you cleaned up and get some more pressure on this.

[Action]

[zerosuitjill]

[Consciousness is a losing battle, but the freezing water helps a little and she manages to only just stay awake -- or she doesn't get any worse, at least.

However crossed her mental wires may be, she's still set by default to work logically -- and protesting isn't getting her anywhere, so she tries to think of the next step. It takes what feels like an hour to finally speak, although in reality it's maybe half a minute.]

Under sink... back... there'skit...

[The first aid kit should still be under the sink, anyway, as well as she can remember. Making a run for it herself wasn't really an option before.]

[Action]

[satangotmylungs]

Kit? Kit. Okay, I'll get the kit.

[But John doesn't leave her until after her shirt is gone and the water's done something akin to a good job. Turning off the shower, he all but rips the door off under the sink to bring it out, watching her carefully.]

I got it. Let's get you dry so it'll stay. [And just a bit of pressure from those towels, damn, girl, you lookin like a bloody hot mess.]

[Action]

[zerosuitjill]

[By now, the pain isn't the issue. The issue is the virus that's having a field day with screwing with her head, jerking her between conscious and unconscious and making it impossible to tell what's real and what's memory and what's made up altogether.

She hears him, hears words, but only some of them make sense and half the time she's not even sure who's saying them. Her sight's getting darker, so that's no help, either.]

Can't... youcan'tstopit...

[She looks up at him, only half-seeing his face. There's urgency in what she's trying to say, but her brain and her mouth just won't work together.] Can't... no vaccine, no... youcan't--

[Action]

[satangotmylungs]

You kiddin'? [And all the while he talks, he's taking care of her. Gently, almost like a son would take care of their aging parent living in a certain section of their house. Even smiling, patient, kind, like there's not a damn thing wrong in the world. Like there's a good breeze outside and when he puts her to bed, he'll open the windows so the cool air can make the thin curtains waft about.

Waft, and she can watch. And remember what it was like outside, in the sunshine and in the shade of sweet trees. He's in control. He is. But it's how he tempers that control that makes it so damn baffling.

When one's had as shitty nurses as John, it does make a bit of sense he'd be the opposite, yes? Jill can mull over it later, if she remembersDon't need a vaccine. I'm tough stuff, you know? Overcame lung cancer with less than a month to live. Poof, slosh, all gone. No scarring, no nothing. And, God, I've smoked all my life and got the cough, sure, but I never had bronchitis or pneumonia or anything like it...it'd take a lot more than some

[Action]

[zerosuitjill]

[It's a good thing he's talking so much, since his voice is all Jill can focus on. Her vision's all but shot, she can't feel the pain or his touches or anything -- not numb, not paralyzed, but because her mind's becoming less and less connected with reality, and feeling goes with it.

But his calm is contagious, maybe, because she stops trying to argue -- that, or it's because she's close to passing out. Whatever the reason, when her eyes close and she goes still after some immeasurable space of time, the movement looks relaxed--

--and when she manages to speak again, it's quiet but clear, not forced, and almost a sigh.]

John...

[And then she's out.]