Log Title:
Visiting Hours
Characters:
Night Thrasher, Misty Knight
IC Date:
2/4/2012
Location:
Bellevue Hospital
Brief log summary::
Night Thrasher drops in to see Misty, who is not dealing graciously with being injured and down to one arm.
Rating:
pg
There is no TS in this log::
Yes
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The scores were bloody, but the material of her suit offered some resistance against the deadly claws that ripped her open. If not for the material of the suit, she might well have been disemboweled altogether. The medics at Bellevue are some of the best in the city, though, and she's in and out of surgery, and placed in a room to sleep the night away and through the anaesthesia.
The middle of the day, though, she wakes, and discovers that because her bionic arm was nonfunctional, it was removed. It's in the room with her, at least, on a shelf across the room, beside a ridiculously, relentlessly cheerful bouquet of daisies.
It was rough going for the staff for a little bit as they fought to both calm the distraught investigator and convince her she was in no condition to leave the hospital — and that they would not permit her to until a doctor had given the all clear.
Thus it is that she's had somebody bring her an e-reader. She's sitting with it against her knees, eyes on the screen, jaw set as she tries not to succumb to the depression that looms when that bionic arm is not attached.
It took some doing, it really did, but Night Thrasher made his way through Bellvue Hospital without getting scene. The New Warrior's armor managed to allow him to quietly slip through the hallways, nurses stations and stair cooridors. The passive camoflage worked overtime due to the various bright lights around the hospital. Also, an unlocked hospital computer, which is against HIPAA mind you, allows Thrasher to gain access to the electronic charting system. He located a familiar name and made his way towards her room. Stealthily, Thrasher entered Misty's room and shut the door behind him.
"…what do you want now?" Misty asks, not bothering to look up at first as she hears the door click. Her voice sounds about like what you'd expect it to sound like after a very bad night and a bad morning in which there was a significant amount of anguished screaming. "I'm on the damn IV" — losing all that blood has her on a bag of donated blood to help her build her levels back up. "I have eaten the damn nasty —" She looks up, and brown eyes widen with mild surprise as she finds not a staffer but Night Thrasher. "A visitor," she says, without venom. "That's a surprise. They announce my death on the news or somethin'?"
The New Warrior makes sure that the door is securely shut and won't inadvertantly slip open after he steps further into the room. He humphs at the remarks made by Misty and says, "If your death had been announced, I'd be visiting the morgue. It would have been easier to sneak down there. Less lights." Night Thrasher crosses his arms over his chest and gives her an appraising look. He asks, "I saw you stop a run away van without any ill effects. You try for a Semi this time and it didn't go as well?"
"All I know, you coulda' hit the morgue already an' not found my toe tag," Misty points out, remarkably clear-headed for the fact she was badly injured. "Still. Nice of you to come by." She reflexively goes to gesture for him to take a seat; no right hand. She does so with the left after a second and a mildly pained look.
"Hah," she replies, actually smiling genuinely as Thrash offers his theory. "Yeah, vans I can do. Semis too with the proper runnin' start." She nods, recalling he has already secured the door before giving him the truth. "Vampires, it appears, I don't do so well against. At least, not when I'm distracted by injured civilians."
Thrash raises a gauntlet and shakes his head declining the seat, preferring to stand. His arms remain crossed as he listens, though he does step closer to the hospital bed. Conversation distance. The Warrior's eyebrow can be seen raising behind the special lenses of his helmet. He asks, "You fought a vampire? Here in New York?" Sure, it's not unheard of but it's still something to be genuinely surprised about. Thrash asks, "Are we talking like Vlad the Impaler type vampire?"
Misty gives Thrasher a long, silent glance, hearing the skepticism in his voice. She drags her only hand through her hair. "I /know/ it sounds completely freakin' crazy, a'ight? I /know/ that." She raises her gaze to the lenses of his mask. "But no. Not Vlad Tepesh. Or Dracula, as he prefers to go by these days." Yes, she actually mentioned the normally fictitious big bad of all vampires by name and is apparently serious about it.
"This one is … an odd case. Human but with some kind of vampire condition. Works out to the same thing. He's a monster who tears out his victims' throats to drink their blood. So to answer your question — yes, I fought a vampire. No, it wasn't Dracula. And yes, he's still at large." She glances away at the window. "Still light out, at least. So he's not likely to be shreddin' anybody else just yet."
When Misty says its light outside, Thrash instinctively turns his head towards the window to confirm it himself. He looks back at her in the Hospital Bed, "I see." A long pause, "You seem to lead an interesting life." He quips dryly afterwards. His eyes cut to look at her missing arm, "Hospital policy to disarm you?" Another pause and adds before a reaction can be made, "I am sorry, poor wording."
Misty looks back at the Thrasher, watching him confirm for himself that it's still light out. There's not a /lot/ of daylight left, to be sure. It's New York. In the dead of winter. "I lead the life of an investigator," Misty replies evenly.
She grimaces at the first remark, but before she can hit him with a sharp-tongued reaction, he's apologized. "Got damaged in the fight. He tore a hole in the back of it and ripped somethin' loose, so it's dead weight. Rather than havin' me tryin' to repair a limb that isn't actually in biological distress, Docs had it removed until I can get ahold of Stark Enterprises to repair it."
As Misty recounts what happened, Thrash grimaces and shakes his head. He says to her, "Seems he had your number than." He offers a stiff nod, "Stark Industries the one that created it, or do you just know a couple of engineers there that can fix it?" He pauses before adding, "I could take a look at it? Maybe patch it up so that it's not just dead weight?" He offers.
"Stark Industries created it an' installed it," Misty says, tilting her head curiously as Night Thrasher mentions that he thinks he could patch it up. "They did it years ago when I first got hurt. PR move, I expect, but it has worked out nice for both of us." She turns her gaze from him to the arm. "You're welcome t'look," she tells him, with a 'be my guest' gesture of her left arm. "Doubt you are gonna find yourself able to patch it up. I have not met anyone good enough to decipher the schematics. But to quote the man himself, it'll be amusin' to see you try."
Another quirked eyebrow is raised by Thrash, "I don't like giving up before even trying." After given the go ahead by Misty, Thrash turns, uncrosses his arms and heads towards where the bionic arm is stashed. Once he gets to it he says, "I am pretty handy with electronics. I did make my own gear, afterall." He starts looking over the arm, "You said the vampire ripped something out. Maybe if I can jury rig something to act in place of what was ripped out, you can walk out of here with a slightly functional arm rather than a paperweight."
"That's what it /felt/ like he did," Misty clarifies. "I haven't had a chance to take a good look at it myself." It's over there, and she's on an IV that's feeding her blood. Chances are getting up and walking around more than necessary are something the staff have warned her against. "Hey, knock yourself out, sugar," she adds, the sound of her normal speech pattern returning. "I'm not gonna say no, because it'd be great to have the arm kinda workin' than not workin'."
Thrash grunts and humphs as he peruses the exposed innards of Misty's bionic arm. Nimble fingers probe and move about inside the device. Night Thrasher says outloud, more talking to himself than Misty, "I see what you mean. Were I in my lab this wouldn't be difficult. But-" He pulls his fingers out of the device and twists his own to look at the underside of his gauntlet on his forearm. He slides open a compartment to expose its inner workings. He unhooks something or some things and then slides the compartment closed again.
Misty turns her attention to Thrash and her damaged arm. "So you just feelin' the need to be doin' the urban knight thing," she asks. Not with dubiosity. More genuine curiosity. "Or is this just the techie thing, where if you see it, you gotta tinker with it?" She's no tech, so the concept is foreign to her at the internal level, but she's seen it enough times to recognize it.
Thrasher takes what he pulled out of his gauntlet and starts working with the arm. He shakes his head at what Misty asks, "Not sure what you mean. I do like looking at some new tech, I have to admit." He pauses as he tries doing whatever he is trying to do. Thrash grunts, "This is kind of a shot in the dark, anyways."
"It's not like we're tight," is Misty's rejoinder. Again, not unkindly, just with a little surprise. "I mean, the people I'm /tight/ with have not got word yet, most likely, but here I have /Night/ Thrasher poppin' by to see how I'm doin' in the /daytime/." Well, late afternoon. "So not that I'm complainin'. Just unexpected. An' appreciated. Sorry, not at my best, forgive my lack of manners."
Thrasher stops doing what he's doing in her arm and steps back away from it. He raises his hands up in the air and says, "So, I'm trying hard to turn over a new leaf and be helpful, hospitable and friendly. I can stop." His tone is short. He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb towards her arm, "Besides; You helped me out of jam with those gun runners. At the very least, I can try and return the favor."
Misty holds up a hand. "Hey, I wasn't tryin' to take a shot, Thrasher," she tells him, clearly aware she's offended him. "Like I said. For real, man. I /appreciate/ what you're doin', honest an' truly. That arm is more than a sentimental piece. It helps me do what I do. Keepin' safe. An' helpin' out people like you when I can." She sits up a little straighter in bed, wearing just the hospital gown. They probably had to cut her outfit off her, leaving one less in her closet. She falls speculatively silent for a minute at the 'new leaf' part of his remark. "I can't always flip off the 'nosey investigator bitch' attitude, especially when I'm hurt."
Thrasher's mouth forms a thin line as he purses his lips tightly. He offers the woman a stiff nod, "Sure. I get it." He jerks his head to the side in a gesture back towards the arm, "So, I'm going to get back to trying to help you. This is pretty much all I can think of to try and get your appendage working again." he turns back to the bionic arm and goes back to tinkering. As he does this he asks, "When are they discharging you?"
Misty sighs. Seems she is just no good with conversations that aren't witty banter. She seems only to alienate people even when she's not trying to. She shuts her eyes for a second. "Like I said, if you can, you have my thanks." And with regard to the question of her discharge, she chuckles. "They are prolly gonna wanna keep me up in here one more night, but if you can get the arm at least workin', I'm pushin' to be let out five minutes later." There's a certain thrumming tension in her that implies she doesn't do downtime well.
So she changes the subject. "By the way. I'm thinkin' we have a potential problem. There was an attempt to rob Stark Industries a couple nights ago. They were tryin' for parts." That they were trying implies, at least they were not successful. "But Tony didn't like what he saw when he got a look at what they were after. Thinks maybe we have somebody tryin' to smuggle crap into The Vault."
The Warrior's hands slide out of the open area of the arm after connecting a couple of the objects he had ripped out of his own gauntlet to whatever he connected them to inside the bionic arm. He raises a hand and rubs at the back of his helmet in lieu of rubbing at the back of his head, "I am not sure if that worked. Where's the 'on switch' on this thing?" He glances over his shoulder at Misty, "How did you connect the attempted robbery to smuggling into the Vault?"
"We'll see in a minute, I guess," Misty says hopefully. "Give it here."
In response to Thrash's question, she gives a one shouldered shrug. "They tried to get a bunch of kids to take the fall for it, for one thing, so they were tryin' to front regarding getting caught. But besides that, Tony said he'd seen the same parts in different configurations. Not hard to put two-an'-two together. There're a good number of gizmo an' gadget guys behind bars there, an' gettin' them parts to rebuild their stuff was the first thing that came to mind. Though I suppose it could just as easy be AIM or somebody."
"Could be a problem, you are right." Thrasher says as he lifts the arm up with one hand. He steps over to her hospital bed and holds her arm out for her to take possession of. Thrasher warns her, "If it works, it isn't going to be one hundred percent. It will probably be weaker than your other arm. Make sure you see your friends at Stark soon. If it doesn't work, well…" he shrugs his shoulders, "We can't all be Tony Stark." Whenever she takes possession of her arm, Thrasher will lower his hands to rest on his hips.
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"Man, you workin' with whatever you got on hand. I got no place from which to complain." She takes the arm and rests it across her lap for a minute. She rolls up the right sleeve of her hospital gown. The arm was removed cleanly and there are clearly a few metallic bits in her shoulder that make it fairly easy to fit back on. She grimaces a bit, getting the arm situated. There are clicks as it goes back into place. There's a tiny little hum from the arm.
She looks down at it hopefully with big brown eyes — an indication of how much it means to her to have another working arm again. For a moment, there's nothing. Then there's a little wiggle of the fingers. She gasps. The arm lifts, slowly, shakily. "You did it," she breathes. "You by damn did it!" This is followed by a joyous whoop that is likely to bring the nurses to ask her to quiet down again, until they find her door locked. At which point they will probably back away again. "I'll still need to call Team Stark, but you gave me use of the arm back. /Thank/ you." Misty is not one who does vulnerable again, but this moment — she's nailed it. There are tears welling in her eyes.
Thrasher offers her a nod in response to her appreciation. Before saying anything, he twists his gaze over towards the door as it is rattled by the efforts of the nurses beyond. Thrash clicks his tongue against his teeth and says, "It'll be interesting trying to explain your arm to the nurses." He then looks towards the windows leading out, "Time to make my exit. I am pretty sure you're not supposed to have guests." he pauses and quips, "Besides, I neglected to use the anti-bacterial gel on my gauntlets before coming in your room. I am sure that breaks a couple of rules…"
Misty's smile is returned along with some of her attitude. That arm carries a lot more than superhuman power with it, it appeared. "Honeychile, friends who are likely to visit include Luke Cage an' Iron Fist. I don't think they could stop me from gettin' visitors if they tried — unless they started hirin' superhuman nurses."
She chuckles at his quip. "I won't tell, Doctor Thrasher," she promises, giving him a slightly wobbly Scouts Honor with the partially-repaired right hand. "When I'm back in somethin' resemblin' fightin' trim, I'll look you up. Meantime, look up Nightwing Restorations in the book. My partner, Colleen Wing'll be willin' to help you out if you need anythin' 'til then."
The New Warrior heads over towards the window, unlatches it and swings it open. He looks back to Misty, "Sure thing. I'm going to need help tracking down more weapons, I think." He moves to exit but hesitates, "I'm happy to help." He says just before slipping outside. He clasps to the outside surface of the hospital, somehow, and makes his escape.
The door is opened, but not by a nurse, by the aforementioned Luke Cage, who misses Thrasher's exit. Rather than candy or flowers, he's got a shopping bag from Bloomingdales. Thrasher can hear Misty's squeal of delight and Luke's confession that he put it on the Nightwing credit card, before Misty's genuine laughter trails out the window.
