thecapitol | Patient Zero Plot

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Patient Zero Plot

[OOC: patients, post a subthread and one of the doctor characters will be with you shortly. Feel free to specify if you want one in particular.]

In a city as monitored as the Capitol, that a mystery disease was going around didn't escape notice for more than a few days. That both Victory Hannibal and Chris Traeger such a production of their 'impending death of the plague' didn't help it stay under wraps, either.

As such, a clinic of sorts has been set up inside the Tribute Center. Tributes, Mentors and anyone else associated with the Games are taken aside at random and given check-ups. Avoxes are given lists of prescriptions to help any sufferers alleviate symptoms, and the doctors and scientists on staff (recruited by Peacekeeping Headquarters right now) are given relatively free reign to take whatever tests they need to find the name of the illness and kill it.

Currently, it is staffed by Penny, Wesker and Zoidberg.

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"And so you have one," Wesker told her, head dipping in a small shadow of a bow. He held out a hand, fingers curling in invitation. "I assure you, I know my way around the human anatomy."

And then some.

With his other hand he gestured for an avox to bring him a fresh set of patient forms.

She seemed unsure, more for the sake of letting him see her in this state. But beggers could not be chosers or so the old saying went.

"Very well...I suppose I can take comfort in knowing that I'm in the hands of a respectable, intelligent man."

Though there was something vaguely unsettling about the idea of being in his thick powerful hands. If her stomach wasn't already knotted up from being sick she might wonder about this new anxiety.

She was allowed a few moments more to stew over it as he merely side-stepped, turning to wave her past him and through the doorway as he reached for the forms the avox held out.

"You should," he drawled, the door clicking shut behind behind her as he followed her into the room. "Unless the claws of the esteemed Dr. Zoidberg are more appealing."

But as he doubted it, he carried on, inclining his head toward the exam table.

"Have a seat, Azula."

An obvious shudder passed over her and it wasn't from being sick.

"I wouldn't let that disgusting creature touch me if he were wearing a full body suit made of stylized latex." she spat.

Taking her seat she seemed smaller then last time they'd spoke. The fire of victory had been smothered by her illness and left her skin looking off color. Rather then simply pale she was more off a creamy sickly shade and despite her best efforts her hair hung limply in a mess around her shoulders.

Her eyes were glassy and exhausted but kept darting to the empty seat against the wall where a magazine sat with one of her tributes on the cover. The pretty one who did her best to avoid conflict.

"You're not wrong. Physical unpleasantness aside, I've found to be grossly incompetent."

Which, for Wesker, was far, far worse a crime.

He set the forms down on the simple, utilitarian desk, and reached for the box of gloves, plucking a fresh pair free. His head tipped as he pulled them on, strange slitted eyes peering at her over the rims of his dark glasses in a critical inspection.

Comparing his initial impressions to those of the other patients he'd checked. Making mental notes.

With a final snap of latex against his wrist, he stepped close and reached for her. His hands were warm, a match to her feverish skin, and steady. Strong, as they cupped her face, his movements easy, thumbs pressing and pulling near her eyes so he could check the whites, fingers kneading the glands under her jaw.

As if he had a right to do it. As he expected not argument.

Confident, to a fault.

"What are you feeling?" he asked, breath a soft flutter against her cheeks. "And when did you start feeling it?"

Edited 2014-06-06 12:20 (UTC)

Another shudder washed over her as he took her into his hands and she felt her stomach twist in knots. This was both very similar to how Diana treated her and also unsettlingly different.

Ooo letting him manhandle you Zula Zu? I'm getting jealous~

Speaking of Diana, her eyes darted to the chair and narrowed silently irritated before letting her gaze settle on Wekser's eyes. They seemed to burn into her.

"Shortly after the arena began." she explained. "I awoke with a chills and hours later was burning up with fever." She explained "I've never known a sickness that alternates so swiftly." Though it reminded her uncomfortably of the symptoms of her withdrawl last time she was in the arena.

"At first I thought someone had switched out my medications." she offered, too exhausted to try and pretend she was completely under her own control, "But they were fine. By the end of the first day I was experiencing sharp muscle spasms." The first had been utterly humiliating causing her to fall at a party that she really shouldn't have been attending in the first place.

Whatever Wesker thought about her revelation, he kept to himself.

There were more interesting puzzles a foot.

"Prior to that, were you in contact with anyone sick? Perhaps someone who wasn't ill at the time, but became so later?"

He leaned closer, near enough for the dark slits of his pupils to all but disappear, and breathed. He could smell the sickness - the sweat and bile - feel the heat of the fever... but not much else. His senses too muddled, still blocked by whatever power the Capitol held over him.

"Strange animals, by chance?" he asked, shifting back again, hands falling away as he turned to pick up a shining stethoscope. "Substances?"

She shook her head happy to take her mind off the voice in her head.

"Not that I am aware of. The only animals I came into contact with were cooked. And as far as I could tell none of the people I was in contact with had anything wrong. I had some meetings with potential sponsors, and interview for a magazine." She sounded unsure, worried that there might be some detail she may have missed.

"I'm going to need their names," he told her. "And when you meet with them, as close as you can approximate."

He was trying to track the infection back to its source, and trying to map out the spread - the incubation period from contact to first symptoms.

That would narrow down his suspect list.

Turning back, he shifted to stand behind her, the hard steel of the stethoscope pressing against her back.

"Deep breaths, slowly."

The cold metal disk on her back was actually a bit of a relief given how overheated she was feeling.

Each slow deep breath made her breasts rise and fall as the curve of her spine straightened.

She waited until he was finished to reach for her ever present tablet. A few flicks of her exhausted fingers would pull up the last few weeks schedule so she could present him with the names and times he had requested.

Leave it to a control freak to take fastidious notes on her day to day activities.

He was silent, listening to the muscles working inside her chest, his own heart a steady, strong drum opposed to the harried skip of hers. He shifted the tool to her chest, listened a moment longer, then straightened, pulling the buds from his ears.

Taking her tablet with one hand, he turned away and started back toward the desk.

"Have you been experiencing any chest pains? Coughing fits?"

A booted toe turned out, catching the leg of the desk chair and pulled it neatly up behind him so he could sit. He pulled a shining silver pen from the breast pocket of the long white coat the Capitol had provided and began to write.

"Difficulty breathing?"

Edited 2014-06-09 19:41 (UTC)

"No." She answered in her dry tired voice "And no. It's been harder to breath when I'm overheated, but not the rest of the time." She explained.

Watching how casually he moved about the room it was easy to imagine he'd always been like this. That Wesker hadn't been born but rather just came into existence in a lab completely prepared for science and medicine.

He made a low sound, a soft purring hum as he exhaled, but it was a long moment before he said anything more. Speculations forming, firming, the more patients he saw.

The silence was filled with the gentle scratch of his pen, the rustle of the papers as he shifted from one to the other - copying down the list she'd provided. When he'd seemingly finished, he tucked the pen back into his pocket and stood, crossing the room to begin gathering supplies.

"I'm going to take some samples," he told her.

A needle winked under the light, plastic vials clinked gently.

Edited 2014-06-11 20:21 (UTC)

Oh wonderful, who doesn't love needles?

She straightened up and took a deep, calming breath before letting it out through her nose. Finally presenting her arm to him calmly. She was a grown woman, she could handle this.

"Is this like the others?" She wondered, unsure of how much information he would share.

As she was helpfully making it easy for him, Wesker decided to start with the blood samples. He wrapped a tourniquet around her upper arm and knotted it tight, responding absently to the question as his fingers prodded at the hardening vein at the inside of her elbow.

"Yes," he murmured, one hand moving to close her fingers into a fist, thumb still rubbing over the vein. "And no."

Seemingly satisfied, he released her long enough to tear open an alcohol pad and swipe it across her skin.

"It's not unheard of for symptoms to vary by degrees from patient to patient."

Not this widely, instinct told him, but he saw no reason to disturb her. His job would be difficult enough without stirring panic.

"A pinch," he warned before slipping the needle into her arm.

Azula felt her heartbeat increasing with every passing moment as he took his sweet time preparing to draw the blood. If she wasn't already flush from her fever she would be blushing from all this extra physical contact. It was something she didn't make a habit of.

His thumb rubbing at her pale porcelain flesh felt like it should hurt more. Perhaps the disease was numbing her? Perhaps even though she hadn't been to the training hall in days she was still more firm and muscular then the soft pampered capitol lot.

The prick of the needle was enough to make her go as still as a statue. Back was perfectly straight, while inside her shoes her toes were curling to try and keep the rest of her body loose and relaxed.

She forced herself to watch, she would not show anxiety at such a common event.

Silence descended over the room, Wesker's attention fixed on the task at hand. There was a soft pop as he pushed the collection tube into the holder and a gentle squeak a few moments later as he worked it free again.

He worked his way through three of them, ensuring there would be enough sample for multiple tests, then he shifted, reaching for a square of clean gauze.

"Open your hand," he told her. "Another pinch."

He pulled the needle free in a smooth, easy movement and pressed the gauze down onto the puncture.

Her slender fingers unfolded obediently and just like that the pressure in her arm was gone and he was holding gauze onto it.

"You almost seem to be enjoying this." She observed through the haze of her own misery. "Is it the mystery? The challenge of something new you can overcome?" Her eyes scanned his face seeking out whatever information she could gleam before slipping back into her state of hallucinations and discomfort.

"I can't simply want to help?" Wesker murmured in reply, that soft, silken purr as he shifted and tossed the needle into the medical waste bin by the exam table.

His tongue clucked against his teeth, the strange serpentine eyes turned back to meet hers, the blond head tipping.

"I'm hurt, Azula."

He reached for a swab, popping the plastic cover open with one hand, pushing the cotton head foward - the other hand reached for her, taking hold of her jaw.

"Open."

She pouted and gave him a very dry look, finding it impossible to imagine him being so senselessly charitable without a reward.

Opening her mouth left her no room to comment and she waited patiently with her tongue flattened at the bottom of her mouth.

His grip was firm, a silent command to be still and booking no argument about it.

"Wider," he said, moving as soon as she did so, slipping the long swab into her mouth and down against the back of her throat. He stroked and pulled back in one smooth movement, stepping away as he pushed the plastic cover back over the head of the swab to avoid any coughing or gagging fits the action might have caused.

"There's a good girl."

There were both coughing and gagging as he withdrew from her, but she regained her composure quickly wiping a tear from her eye. As he called her a good girl though her face burned crimson and she stiffened like a stone.

Oooo~ Zula you're his good girl now? I thought you were mine. Are you just anybodies good girl while I'm off dying?

A muscle spasm saved her further humiliation as she winced and hissed and clutched at her thigh which had suddenly decided to go so tight she was sure something was going to tear.

He gathered up the blood samples and the throat swab, either not recognizing her discomfort and not caring.

Or both.

"If there's anything to be learned from the tests, we'll know soon enough," he told her as he walked back to the desk, slipping her samples into a plastic tray with her paperwork. "In the meantime, avoid contact with others as much as possible, and try to rest."

He reached for a pad on the desk and his pen.

"Plenty of fluids," he reminded her as he wrote. "And, yes, food."

He looked at her over his lenses. "I will see that you get it intravenously, if I find out you're not."

Rising to her feet she tried to salvage what was left of her composure.

"Your bedside manner could use some work." She complained "At least I know your talents make up for your short comings in that respect."

She had not felt fear in a very long time and yet this man here had ignited a flame of it deep in her chest. It was almost enough to make forget about her illness...almost.

"Consider it motivation," Wesker replied without missing a beat. "Do as you're told, or we'll have to do this again."

He tore off the top sheet of his pad and held it out to her - perhaps the first and only legible prescription in the history of medicine.

"This will ease your discomfort and should help you rest. If there's any change in your symptoms or your conditions worsen, be sure to inform myself or one of the other residents."

Edited 2014-06-19 11:45 (UTC)

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