RP: YSS Miharu Mission 2: Day 11- Under a hail of fire (Medic Training)

[Kim]

As the days progressed, Sora had finished planning out her field triage exercise in the VR chamber for her dedicated medical staff by day six and had one of the VR chambers reserved by day nine. It was on day eleven that she coaxed her medical staff into the simulation suits and started the training exercise.

The young Ketsurui had chosen the location of the Dark One’s Castle that she and the Plumeria crew charged into to plant their aether bombs. Their mission for the field triage exercise was to rescue 3 prisoners of war from the Mishhu in the stronghold and they were accompanied by 2 other AI controlled Mindy Twos.

They began in the dark and murky sewers and advanced through the sludge and over the slippery stones in their Mindy 2 power armors towards the dryer inner chambers without much resistance. The Black Spiral agents had given the small team a partial layout of the structure and had marked the door with a glyph written in a timed glow in the dark ink.

It almost felt like the exercise was going to be too easy; they had easily entered the stronghold without much resistance or discovery by being quiet and utilizing their armors’ active camouflage systems. The smell of the sludge lingered in their helmets as they quietly closed the door behind them. Creeping along darkened stairwell, they started to hear the disturbing shrieks of pleasure, fear and pain.

When they had peered into the room- the women inside the room weren’t the ones they were looking for and even though they weren’t completely beyond help- they had to complete their objective. It was a hard choice but... they had to walk past the room where the Mishhu were raping, torturing and eating their prisoners. The horrifying image burned the sense of urgency into their minds- they had to hurry and save the POWs as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, the pause they made in front of the room was too long and a Ripper team was sent out to investigate. They had managed to reach the holding cell before a wave of telekinetic energy that momentarily disabled their active camouflage and sent their mission to hell.

They were met with a flurry of Ripper gunfire as they were forced into the holding cell with their mission objective; some of them were severely injured. It seemed easy enough- grab the prisoners and teleport out into safety. But… the wave had damaged some of their teleportation units and they had been forced into a corner. They felt the pressing urge to run and those that could were urged out.

Some of the team were forced to exit their protective outer armor and be carried out of the stronghold with someone who’s teleportation unit was working- risking only to take their helmets. They had hoped the weight wouldn’t be too much.


Of course…when you are in a hurry and have the added distraction of Ripper charging at you with guns blazing, you forget to do the math for the maximum weight capacity of the nodal and body parts sometimes get left behind as the team soon discovered for themselves. It was disturbing and a lot tingly but it was a method of getting the job done. It was grueling, messy and nerve wrecking but in the end, they managed to pull through- not unscathed, but they survived.

In the power armor bay of the simulated Miharu they had to try to stabilize their patient’s wounds and keep them alive because there was a chance that no ST back-up could be made. The main thing for treating the Neko patients was getting the bleeding to slow down enough for their own healing systems to repair themselves. The Yamataians had priority to being placed into the HS chambers because they could not heal as fast as the nekos could.

All in all, the entire scenario had taken about two hours but it was mentally grueling and hellish to live through. Everything was so vivid, the stench of seared flesh, raw sewage, and blood lingered with them long after the exercise was over. Sora wasn’t really surprised when the suggestion of going through another simulated scenario was shot down by pained glares and groans of dismay. This reaction told her that another exercise would have to wait for another day so that the team could mentally recover.

 

[Wes]

Re: [OOC] ATTN: Medic type people

(OOC: Excellent stuff, Kim!)

 

[MoonMan]

Re: [OOC] ATTN: Medic type people

((Sorry it took so long to reply. I tried taking a few RP liberties, hopefully I didn't cross any lines.))

The simulation was a harrowing situation for Sanjuro. Regardless, it did manage to put many things into perspective, to both Sanjuro and the rest of his crew.

The first half of the simulation was much like his first combat sortie; rife with error, fear and a dash of gutlessness. Sanjuro was on edge nearly the entire simulation, almost certain that his feeling of dread was so severe that the emotion itself would get detected by his enemies, making him even more jumpy. He would constantly look behind him, stumble over himself and would come within an inch of discharging his weapon, betraying his position, at the slightest movement of a shadow. His surroundings didn't help the situation, either; Sanjuro wasn't exactly new to what a common Mishhu prison encampment was like (through military lectures and his own grim research into the matter), but never the less the rank smells and grotesque architecture did nothing to alleviate his mind.

Surprisingly, the advent of seeing prisoners eaten, raped and tortured did not affect the solemn, sweat-drenched medical officer as much as one would think. Sanjuro had seen horrible injuries in his career as a surgical professional...hewn bodies and limbs, scores of meaty bones and the feeling of ripe organs against his hands were a common ground for him. He had worked on Mishhu victims before, not nearly as much as his civilian medical records suggested, but enough to come to terms with the general idea. He would've felt sorry for the simulated victims...but he was far too busy worrying about his own skin. The prospect of becoming a victim was what Sanjuro dreaded most of all. Broken bones and bleeding wounds were fine and dandy with him, as long as they were on somebody else. He could fix that.

Their escape blazed past Sanjuro too fast for him to react. At one point he realized he had dropped his weapon in order to make his retreat less cumbersome...it wasn't like it was seeing much use from him anyway. Sanjuro was one of the ones who hadn't taken enough time to fully calculate his teleportation unit, and as a result, found himself carrying a much lighter cargo as he faded back into view. It was a while before the realization that he had made it out alive truly set his mind at ease...

---

...and when his mind did come to rest, Sanjuro became something much different, laying down his screaming, injured passenger and taking a look at the others. There were many in the same condition...a condition that could be fixed. The medical officer removed his helmet and knelt before his patient.

If there was any doubt to Sanjuro's ability to act as a doctor due to his unusual social tendencies before this moment, they were quickly alleviated to anyone taking the time to watch his performance.

Even in armor, Sanjuro's hands moved expertly, calculated and precise as they translated his medicinal knowledge into physical practice. On occasion he would even look away to take in the other situations in the armor bay, his delicate hand movements not slowing or relenting in their procedures; he did not need his eyes to know what needed to be done. His motions were fluid, flawless, whether he was applying pressure and pharmaceuticals to the wounds, ordering a critically-injured body to the medical bays for hemosynthetic submergence, or bestowing a gentle caress as he softly requested his patient brace themselves, or alleviate their worry with a simple nod of satisfaction. Sanjuro was deathly silent in his moments of concentration, dark emerald stones staring intently into each facet of his work, his resolve to heal not relenting until the simulation's end came, and the false world melted around him to reveal the real.

Sanjuro said nothing after the simulation, remained silent when Sora suggested running another. The poker-faced medical officer displayed no tangible emotion through his stolid gaze, only the sweat on his brow and slowing breaths betraying a previous moment.

In another minute or two he would be the same old Sanjuro Ashitaka.