Shadowrun Play > Play-by-Post
Tangled Currents - Serge
adamu:
Tuesday, 19 November, 1400; Touristville, Redmond, Seattle Metroplex
Serge was doing what he did most days - taking care of kids. Hang a shingle and they came, came out of the woodwork. First from the slums around T-ville proper - vaccinations, flu, skating spills - and then from deeper into the Barrens - TB, polio, STIs, systematic abuse - and lately from afar afield as Glow City and the Plastic Jungles - sepsis, malnutrition, radiation poisoning.
But the screech of tires and then the crunch of a semi-controlled crash outside told him he was about done with kids for the moment. He cleared the small operating theater he'd been working on bringing up to speed and then Bruiser staggered in with another ork draped over his shoulders and bleeding everywhere. Behind them four other walking wounded followed, all wearing the purple bandanas signifying them as T-dogs, the small neighborhood gang that Bruiser headed and that Serge relied on for security.
This was getting to be a weekly thing, and even though he lost one for each one he patched up, they never failed to find more new recruits. More kids.
He did a lightning triage - they all could wait, except for the one Bruiser was holding. He'd be dead in minutes without some plasma and surgery to stop wherever all that blood was coming from. They got him on the table and by the time the gloves were on half a dozen more armed gangers had crowded in to watch their friend live or die.
Serge knew better by now than to try throwing them out.
But some did not know better.
There was violent shouting outside, sounds of weapons being drawn and angry curses in Or'zet. The ugly command of a shotgun's pump action.
Then four Knight-Errant officers crashed through the door. The first was covered in blood that couldn't be his or he wouldn't be standing, or holding his Colt Manhunter icy still on Bruiser. Half a dozen makeshift firearms and blades appeared in the hands of the gathered T-dogs.
The next cop was supporting the third - a woman, a young blond rookie - her leather flak jacket was off and her uniform shirt was torn aside revealing a vest scored with ballistic impacts and a widening stain where one had gone through. Her hand gripped her neck, which was also gouting blood. She was crying like a baby. Or trying to as she choked on her own blood.
They were followed in by the fourth cop, walking backwards, Mossberg shouldered, scanning the pack of gangers hot on his heels.
The cops were hopelessly outgunned, but it was clear they wouldn't go down easy. And even these stupid ganger kids knew that making a move on them would be the end of their gang, their families, even the whole neighborhood.
But that didn't mean they weren't all thinking about it.
Serge looked for Markman - that would have made things easier - but he wasn't one of them.
The lead cop spoke - "She won't make the trauma center, doc." It was true, she wouldn't make it another thirty seconds without help.
And neither would the young ork on the table.
All4BigGuns:
"All right you lot," Serge commanded everyone assembled, "there's enough gorram blood dripping from these two. PUT THE DAMN GUNS DOWN!"
Holding pressure on the ork on the table to stem the tide as best he can, he looks to the officers saying, "Get her on that table over there and hold some pressure on her wound. Hell, screw that, there's a small medkit on the shelf over there that can stabilize her while I keep this kid from bleeding out. Don't worry, there's as good as we can get in the way of Matrix service here for it to access the net and operate on its own for that much."
With that, he proceeds to try to stabilize the kid on the table.
adamu:
No one put their guns down.
But no one shot anyone either.
One cop put the injured woman on the other table as directed. He tried to keep pressure on her bleeding and use the medkit at the same time but it was a complete disaster. His two friends watched him nervously, eyes flicking back and forth between the cop who was bleeding out and the dozen guns in adrenaline-shaky hands pointed at them. The first cop was finally getting the trodes attached when the whole kit slipped out of his hands, which were too slick with his partner's blood to hold anything properly.
It was all Serge could do to keep clamping off bleeders in his ganger patient, but it was clear they lady cop would buy it. Then one of the gangers stepped forward and picked up the dropped medkit and got it working, while another slapped a universal dressing on the woman's neck.
They worked for another few minutes, Serge on the ganger, the cop and two gangers on the other cop.
There were sirens outside. Then more sirens. Then more. The already unbearable tension in the room crackled with renewed electricity as the cops relaxed slightly and the gangers read the writing on the wall. "Yeah, that's right, assholes, my gang's just a little bit bigger than yours," said the lead cop. Then the storm broke and within twenty seconds everyone with a purple bandana was proned on the floor and a Doc Wagon team was whisking the lady cop out.
All Serge could do was keep working - the ganger was not out of the woods yet. No one bothered him. The original lead cop spoke quietly to the HRT lieutenant, and as quickly as they'd come the cops left, no arrests. The cop spoke to Bruiser. "We owe you one."
Then he sidled up to Serge. "Your house, your call. But you made your choice, Doc."
All4BigGuns:
"All I did was keep working on the patient that came in first," Serge said, "Had the situation been reversed, I would've stayed with her." He sighs and adds, "Sorry to be so blunt, but I have to stay fair and impartial in this business."
adamu:
Tuesday, 19 November, 1436; Touristville, Redmond, Seattle Metroplex
"Seriously Doc? Moral equivalency?" The cop looked around at the assembled orks in their street leathers and face piercings. "Not to worry," he said on his way out, "you got the T-birds in your corner now. Sure you'll be just fine."
And because it couldn't possibly rain without pouring, one of the young orks almost crashed into the cop in the doorway to the now filthy operating room. The cop left, the ork came in, said, "Doc, there's a couple of suits out in reception, armed escort, say they got biz with you."
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