damned_institute | Night 57: Medical Wing Hall

While Carter was frowning at the hallway, he had an old country doctor frowning at him. That wasn't what those were for. Carter had a point, probably that practicality that was a product of his times, but McCoy still had a hard time thinking of medical equipment as weapons, anymore than he'd look at medicine, drugs, and see anything but what they were, and not another way to say chemical warfare, which was probably what anyone else would do right now. You could do a lot of damage just by simply overdosing on something like morphine. The idea of deliberately doing it was repulsive. It went against everything he believed in. Turning a scalpel or bone saw into a weapon wasn't so bad, but just barely.

Even when it came to something like an animal attacking a human being, there was still that second's hesitation before he even considered turning those tools into anything else. That's what you had phasers for or in Carter's case, crowbars.

There was that same crawling sensation up and down his back, just like in Doyleton and just like a few minutes ago. McCoy looked over his shoulder again. If only his flashlight were something better than an overly large paperweight right now- "I imagine so," They probably had labs, operating rooms around here somewhere. "Although I figure you're more likely to find a bone saw in an autopsy room."

Despite the fact that countless patients had made their way through this hallway this night -- a hall that had been completely abandoned up until now -- it wasn't until this late point in the night that the roaches were disturbed.

It was impossible to say where they had come from, but the bathrooms up in the corner of the wing was the most likely guess. They had waited, almost patiently, for the night to drag out to the point that there were only a few patients to contend with in the hall. Then, after identifying them as easy pickings, they swarmed forth.

There were only five of them -- a small amount considering the numbers they usually traveled in -- but they moved surprisingly quickly, their armored bodies surging toward the pair of patients. Their pincers out, they spread across the hall; two on the floor, two on the wall, and one up toward the ceiling, they were able to cling to any surface offered to them.

But all they truly wanted to do was eat.

[ Court ]

It was only luck, if you could call it luck, that Carter thought to shine the flashlight on the ceiling. Your average soldier wasn't trained to think that his enemies could fly, or walk upside down, but Carter had seen a variety of the institute's bizarre offerings. The last time he hadn't checked the ceiling a giant bat had bitten a chunk out of his back.

So when Carter's flashlight made another pan of the wide, twisting hallway he managed to catch a glimpse of a dark, carapaced form surging across the ceiling. "Look out!" he yelled, pointing upward with his crowbar. "Look up there!"

McCoy startled when Carter practically shouted in his ear. He flinched, the sound nearly as painful to his headache as Jim had been nights before. It was like someone reached inside his skull and sank their fingers into his brain.

The hell was Carter doing, he was only right next to him! The patience he'd been trying to hold onto vanished. McCoy started to turn on him, about to dress him down for panicking like a damn cadet when he caught the flicker of light off something shiny when Carter twisted his beam upward. He looked up. It was just in time to catch several somethings on the ceiling. They looked a lot like-

A shiver of disgust went down his spine, something about as instinctive as his realization he'd been losing it nights ago and still was. This was a bad idea. Leaving his room when he wasn't well was a bad idea because McCoy had to wonder if he was losing it much worse than he'd previously thought. Because he'd have to be mad to start seeing what looked like massive cockroaches. And he thought the tapes of the Madagascar ones were large.

"What the devil- are those what I think they are?" McCoy exclaimed. On one hand, he hoped to high heaven Carter could see them too, because at least he wasn't that crazy if he could, but at the same time, admitting it was all in his head was a lot better than being faced with the reality that something could spawn goddamn cockroaches of this size.

McCoy had the bad luck to look at the floor, and things abruptly went from bad to worse. Several more were coming at them. "Carter!"

As it turned out, their trap -- even if it hadn't been intended as one -- worked perfectly. The two humans were so busy staring up at the ceiling that they hardly even noticed the other creatures that were down closer to them.

While McCoy spotted them eventually, it was clearly too late. The two roaches that had decided to remain on the floor quickly got into position, one jumping at each patient. One latched onto the back of McCoy's calf, while the other stuck to Carter's thigh.

With pincers out, each one quickly set out to bite, to take chunks out of the fresh flesh and poison them in the process.

The other three waited for their turn, the one on the ceiling apparently waiting for the perfect moment at which to drop down.

Carter screamed involuntarily as he felt the first roach latch on to him. But he'd done this last night, this was familiar. The last monster that had grabbed him, Carter had killed with his bare hands. By this point he wasn't even thinking about how horrible they were. They just needed to die. He needed to protect the people he was with and destroy what was trying to hurt them.

They were just Nazis in animal form.

The flashlight and crowbar dropped from his hands and he twisted around to rip the cockroach off his body, even as he felt its legs leaving long bloody scratches on his skin. Its insectoid, alien body felt strange against his hands but Carter kept his tight grip on the body.

Carter's yell was as loud as a klaxon going off. The roaches struck, hideous brown, disgustingly large blurs. McCoy stumbled back as one of the roaches came at him, but all he ended up was backing himself into a wall, with the thing attached to his leg like a godforsaken remora and pinned between his calf and the wall, which only drove it further against his leg.

The thing bite into his leg, going through his boots as cleanly as a scalpel through epidermal tissue. McCoy barely managed to choke down the cry of pain from getting out, strangled it out into a wheeze through his nose. It hurt, a lot more than any animal bite he'd ever had, and worse, there was a tingling sensation that could only be some sort of venom.

McCoy dropped the first aid kit, and did the only thing he could think of. The doctor twisted away from the wall and swung his flashlight at it as hard as he could.

Edited 2011-08-15 03:57 (UTC)

The one that had been so eager to bite into the soft flesh of Carter's thigh was pulled away before it could do so, only being able to scratch at him, drawing blood but not tasting it. It wriggled in his hands, impossibly large and equipped with far too many legs. But this was the perfect moment for its brother to let go of its grip on the ceiling, falling down and landing right on Carter's shoulder. It went for the kill, aiming to bite his neck.

As for the one that was latched onto McCoy, the smack from the flashlight quickly sent it flying off and skidding across the floor, but its reinforced armor meant that it didn't do much in the way of injuring it.

Instead, one of the ones that had been waiting on the wall leapt off of it, as this swarm clearly focused its efforts and strategies on being relentless. It landed on McCoy's back and started to crawl up it.

Carter flung the first roach away like a perverse frisbee moments before another one dropped down onto his neck. For its size it wasn't heavy, but it landed right on the bandaged wound from last night's battle and Carter shrieked again.

Pain was blinding him. Not fear, they were just monsters, the hero always defeated the monsters and they'd just get fixed up again the next morning, but pain was much harder to be optimistic about. Carter stumbled backwards and wound up ramming the cockroach against the wall, making its body dig against his wounded shoulder but hopefully doing it some damage as well.

Was he really this tasty? He shouldn't be. There were plenty of tastier people around the institute.

"Carter, we need to get out of here-!" McCoy shouted the moment he was free. He hoped he could hear him, but there was so much going on. More of the roaches were converging on him, that other one skid across the floor and brushed against a wall, and Carter was struggling nearby, hitting the wall and fighting like a damn hellion.

The doctor bent to retrieve the first aid kit, and the moment his hands gripped the handle, he knew it was a mistake. A heavy weight hit his shoulder, knocking him forwards onto his hands and knees. Another cockroach and handed on him and was starting to crawl up, probably looking for his head.

McCoy pitched forward, reaching up to try and pull it off with the momentum.

[Check here (http://damned-monsters.livejournal.com/750.html#cutid2) for the poison's effects!]

As Carter backed into the wall, the roach found itself being crushed in the worst possible place -- its underbelly. While its legs tried to scrabble at the human's skin and somehow get away from the crushing weight, it didn't have the strength to do so while in such a precarious position. Instead, green blood started to be squeezed out of it as too much pressure was applied to its one tender area.

However, the only roach that hadn't attacked thus far took this as its moment to strike, homing in on Carter and jumping for his thigh. While the creatures weren't that difficult to bat away when they attacked one at a time, it was another story when they kept coming.

The roach that had been so close to reaching McCoy's neck was stopped right before it could sink its pincers in, falling off and hitting the floor. But the one that had slid across the ground before had regained its footing and was circling back around. They weren't interested in letting their prey escape.

Carter remembered that about cockroaches, very dimly. They were tough and armored on top and soft on the underside. And if a giant bat was like a regular bat and a giant rat was like a regular rat...

Carter pulled his arm forward and rammed the point of his elbow into the roach's underbelly. He would have done it again if yet another roach hadn't made a grab for this thigh. Carter kicked out furiously, having to engage in a bizarre dance to keep both of them away at the same time.

"Hit 'em in the stomach!" he yelled back. "And then we'll run!"

McCoy didn't need to be told twice. He aimed the flashlight down at the roach he'd just knocked off his back, hard, and then shot to his feet without sticking around to see if it killed it. The doctor hurriedly limped over to Carter. Safety in numbers, that was always tactically sound right? He wasn't the tactician here or really, much for combat, that was Jim's job or apparently more of Carter's job. He was too damned old for this!

He risked a glance at the ceiling and walls, then at the flurry of movement coming at them. The blasted thing was coming back for him. Probably liked the taste of an old country Doctor, and McCoy got the unpleasant idea just then that if they didn't take care of them now, it could follow him back to his room. Or worse, come for him at any time.

Just wait for it to get a little closer now... McCoy stepped out at it when it came with in ranged, and tried to knock it onto its back with a boot.

That elbow was surprisingly sharp, slamming into the roach's belly and causing more of its thick blood to squelch out of it. It fell to the floor in a messy heap, twitching and on the brink of death. The one on Carter's thigh managed to hang onto his leg through sheer force of will, digging its claws in and flailing its pincers about in the hope of catching a chunk of flesh.

The one that was running for McCoy wasn't able to dart out of the way fast enough to avoid the kick, but all it did was force it to skid backward. And then, the remaining two rushed forward after it, more than ready to give chase even though one of them had already met its end. These creatures were too stupid to be warned off by the death of one of their own.

It was all...and it was all over his arm and...Carter might have felt like vomiting if he'd had the presence of mind for it. He was a one track sort of man (though on occasion he was more of a one rail, no brakes kind of man) and killing roaches was taking up most of his thought processes. He needed to get over to his crowbar and start bashing things in the soft underbelly, but in his panic to hurl the cockroach he'd dropped it.

So there he was, kicking and bashing at his own leg even as he hopped over to his abandoned weapon. Two feet before it, barely in arm's reach, he went tumbling to the floor.

McCoy followed the one he'd kicked. That hadn't worked the way he'd hoped but it bought time.

Carter was flailing at his own leg, trying to get the roach off it and go for his weapon when he fell to the ground. He could just see it now. All the roaches needed to do was bring a victim down to their knees and swarm him. Getting overwhelmed before he got up. McCoy could think of a lot worse ways to go, but not by much. And it wasn't going to happen if he had any say about it.

Keep an eye on the roaches, McCoy went over to Carter, and bodily hauled Carter to his feet... or he would have, if he hadn't missed the first time. The hell? He'd aimed right for him, but his hands had missed, grabbed too early and came up with air. McCoy tried again, this time aiming to overshoot and managed to get a grip on Carter. He pulled the man up, and darted forward, stooping to get the crowbar right as the roaches came upon them.

When Carter fell to the floor, the roach fell with it, ending up crushed under his body. Luckily, it was the armored side that was taking most of the pressure, but that didn't mean that it had the strength to wriggle out from under the man's leg. It struggled in vain to do so nonetheless.

The second that the body was lifted off of it, the roach darted backward, wanting to regain its bearings before attacking again.

Meanwhile, the two that had been rushing them before continued with their charge, leaping toward the men once they got close enough.

Carter gratefully snatched the crowbar out of McCoy's hands. He darted backwards, trying to stay out of roach range for a few moments. "You gotta flip 'em over!" he explained, dancing around and trying to catch up to the one he'd fallen on. "Then just beat 'em up until they stop moving." Simple, really.

Carter was grinning with childish, almost mad glee. He wasn't a man accustomed to violence against his fellow man, bombs aside, but the alien nature of his enemies made it seem almost exciting. The idea of pummeling the green squish out of them was exciting him like he was a child shooting at woodchucks again. He awaited the next charge with his crowbar lowered, and tried to flip his attacker onto its belly.

Good, Carter was armed, now he wasn't again, besides the flashlight, which had done as much good as hitting it with a twig. McCoy would have been a little happier about the revelation of the insects' weakness if Carter wasn't suddenly beaming like he'd won the Enterprise off Jim. Or treating this like it was some kind of game.

Maybe he should have kept the crowbar until this was over. As it was, McCoy had to wonder if he should be more worried about Carter's swings, because considering how enthusiastic Carter suddenly looked at the idea of a fight, he might get hit.

He did the next best thing, which was stay out of the way of his arms, and swung the flashlight at the roach leaping at him.

Unfortunately, now that their weakness had been discovered, the roaches barely stood a chance. First the crowbar and then the flashlight smacked into the two attacking monsters, the swings angled in such a way that when they were hit back they landed with their underbellies facing upward.

And, due to the curved shape of their armored backs, it wasn't exactly easy for the creatures to turn themselves around fast enough to avoid any blows that might follow after.

More than that, it seemed that the other two roaches had finally wised up enough to flee the scene, leaving their so-called companions behind.

Now this was how a space age hero did it. No need for silly ray guns or normal guns or a stick of dynamite, he'd take them all on with just his crowbar and his wits.

(Newkirk might express his doubts that Carter had any wits to begin with, or at least that they were enough to outwit a cockroack, but since this was his space hero fantasy moment Newkirk wasn't here either)

"Ha!" With a laugh of childish glee Carter leaped at the cockroaches, striking down with the sharp curve his crowbar into the cockroach's belly.

McCoy didn't waste time. He brought the flashlight down on the last roach, and then watched the others flee.

Good lord. Was it over? God, he hoped it was. Unlike Carter, McCoy didn't quite share his enthusiasm or glee at the fight, much less the victory. Now that the adrenaline was dying down, the doctor felt like he'd just aged ten years in five minutes. His calf stung like nothing else, and he felt tired just watching Carter. His head felt tight, cottony and throbbing to the same faint ringing sensation he'd been hearing on and off earlier.

Once he was sure no more roaches were coming back, McCoy slumped against the wall.

"Carter. I gotta check your wounds out," he said. This hallway was about as bad as a place to stop as any, if the last minutes had proven anything, which they most certainly had, but the way he saw it, the wounds had priority, even over moving to somewhere safer. He remembered what happened the last time he'd been around an unknown substance from one of the animals here. He remembered it all too well. The only reason Spock hadn't ended up with a stab wound was because he had those nerve pinches on his side and he was Spock. This might make all the difference difference between stopping the poison and blocking an infection before it started or having either of them try to knife the other in a few minutes.

Green ichor was splattered on Carter's legs and forearms and he was grinning like a madman. That had been his best battle ever, he'd only gotten a little nicked and he'd crushed the opposition. He turned to McCoy, breathing hard. "I'm fine, don't worry about me!" he said gleefully. It took him a few moments to notice that McCoy had gotten off a little worst.

"Maybe you should look at yourself, though? I think that bug took a pretty big chunk out of you." The giddiness faded as he lowered his crowbar and looked around on the floor for his flashlight.

Sure thing. He was going to be fine until he came out of the adrenaline rush and noticed the wounds. McCoy didn't intend to sit around, waiting for that to happen. Or the infection to set in. Besides, he'd only been bitten once, and just on the calf. Granted, it had gone right through his boot, but he'd live. Carter, on the other hand, had suffered a nastier gash on his thigh, where the thing had hung on stubbornly while he'd flailed at it. And on top of that, he was the one splattered in a foreign substance. McCoy didn't even want to think of how much of that had gone into open wounds. At the moment, Carter was the walking textbook definition of a priority patient.

Aside from the fact that he was grinning like an idiot.

"When you got the medical degree, you get to make that call." McCoy muttered. "Come on. Sit down."

"They'll just fix it up again in the morning," Carter grumbled, like a child called back from recess. "I got a broken hand fixed in three days, just like that and I didn't even have to ask for it." He sat down in front of McCoy and stretched out, exposing the injured portions of his legs.

McCoy was from the future, didn't he know his own medicine? Having someone poking around at your scratches diminished the whole space hero business, unless it was a beautiful space princess who was doing the looking.

Night 57: Medical Wing Hall

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((Hope this is okay? if not, i'll edit))

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