Infirmary (Mr. Death)

[Cartwright]

Corporal Godchild was wheeled into the infirmary, still giving instructions to some of the medical personnel around him. The infirmary was full of people, some in dire need of medical treatment. The last assault had been a huge damper on the effectiveness of the Marines, even though they won the battle. Something told Mr. Death they would soon be doing more and more missions to make up for the losses. Only time would tell.

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[Mr. Death]

Elias sat in his wheel chair helping where he could, but mostly letting his wounds heal and trying not to work too hard.

Another marine wheeled up to him, a bandage over his eye and a foot was missing, probably from a mine. The man smiled at him, though it was a grim smile.
"Corporal Godchild, I presume?" The man asked. Elias nodded slowly

"I could tell from the uh. . ." The man pointed a finger to his own eye, and grinned uneasily. Elias nodded in understanding.
"You've made quite a name for yourself Corporal. . .I'm honored to have you at the base" The man stated. Elias nodded again, giving an appreciative quick curl of the lips.

"You know. . .You saved one of my brothers one time. . .And my girlfriend" The man was obviously trying to make small talk to take his mind off of the pain and suffering they had all experienced that day.

"Really?" Elias said, complying with the man's advances for small talk. The man nodded

"Yes sir. . .Both sent me e-mails speaking of a great medic named Mr. Death" The man's smile was a little less grim now, presumably from the memories of his loved ones. Elias was not exactly content with his name, but he ignored it anyways.

"Sir. . . You're an inspiration to the men here, you've bolstered our morale. . .Hell. . .I was just talking to another marine who said that with the best medic in the entire damn corp" Elias gave another appreciative curling of the lips

Elias sighed. . . It would be a long stay in the Infirmary. . .

[Mr. Death]

Elias sat alone against the wall. The others had kindly left him alone after a medic had fended off a horde of curious marines. The medic gave Elias a kind smile and a nod and walked off. The man obviously understood Elias more than most.

While sitting in that wheelchair, Elias mulled over everything that was going on in his life. . .Perhaps there was only one way to die. . .He took out his K-Bar. . .Looked at his wrists. . . They were pale and caked with dried mud and crusty blood. Elias blinked hard for a moment, the cold steel of the blade meeting his warm flesh.

He thought of Doctor Jane Nighson, her beauty. . .He missed her. . .It'd be a long time before he was able to see her again. . .Though she had promised herself to him. He took a deep breath, letting the serated edge glide across his wrist smoothly. The flesh ripped open and blood flooded forth instantantly. His muscles relaxed. . .He was slipping.

"Holy shit! Medic! SOMEONE GET A FUCKING MEDIC!" A marine screamed as he hobbled over to Elias, taking his belt off and strapping it around his left arm, cutting off the circulation and stopping some of the bleeding.

What seemed to be the entire regime of medics in the SMC surrounded him, stopping the bleeding and keeping him alive. Everything Elias saw was through a blurry haze, not really paying attention to the faceless figures screaming at him trying to keep him awake.

[Dire Wolf]

After Hoot saw the Strogg armor get dominated by the bombers, he breathed a sigh of relief. He rolled over and laid there, he looked at the dead strogg that had damn near killed him..... what was it with him and soldiers getting within melee range? "Sigh...... Thank God, wasn't sure we would make it for a second back there." Hoot said, but only got static in reply. He quickly found his helmet and donned it.

That is when his adrenaline kicked off, and he felt the gut/ solar plexis punch that the squb landed on him and the 3 rounds that went straight through his thigh. His legs fell out from under him like a deck of cards, he laid there in some three story building somewhere within the camp. "MEDIC!" He yelled into the comm as he dragged himself down the stairs to ground level. A calm, collected voice responded to him "Where are you and what is your name?" "PFC Schmidt..... Hoot..." He said, he looked back down at his leg, you just dont want to fuck with a thigh hit, the femoral artery could kill you quicker than shit. He dragged himself out of the building to see bombed out courtyard with the SMC flag in the center. "I am in the courtyard, leaning up against the flag pole" He said as he slowly made his way to the flag pole.

In under a minute an older looking medic came over..... it was a good thing that not every medic in the SMC besides Death was young, at least they had some other experianced corpsman out there. When the man saw Hoot he ran and slid, he stopped just short of Hoot and began to work on his leg "You look pretty messed up there Private, don't worry, you will be bangin' old Mary Jane Rottencrotch through her pretty pink panties soon enough" the man said, at least he had some humor. Hoot gave a weak chuckle "Hehe, fuck yeah man."

The man looked Hoot in the eyes and spoke to him "OK Hoot, I stopped the bleeding, but I am taking you back to the infirmary to get the right treatment.". Hoot could tell that something was wrong by the look in the man's eyes. He had nothing to say except for "Lead on" After Hoot made it to the infirmary he was intercepted by another medic and practically pushed to the cot. The two men hooked Hoot up to an IV and injected something into it, that is when the 'Ohh Shit' gear really clicked in his mind. He could put two and two together, his femoral artery was hit.

Within 5 seconds he was out like a light.

There was a certain peace in his mind, nothing but blackness, silence, serenity. That serenity was broken by the sound of men.... the medics..... yelling orders to each other. Hoot could not necissarily tell what they were saying, but he knew it was not good. Hopefully he would wake up from this. Hoot woke up slowly.... he had no idea how long he was out.... minutes... days... years, he looked around his environment, he was still laying on the cot, now blood stained, his MCUUs were cut and his wounds were stitched up, and there was Mr. Death, who was slitting his wrists, it was like a splash of cold water "Holy shit! Medic! SOMEONE GET A FUCKING MEDIC!" he yelled, and the medics swarmed him like a buch of flys on shit.

[Mr. Death]

Elias smiled at Hoot, giving him a lazy wink. It wouldn't appear to be a wink to anyone else but Elias however, his right eye was too heavily lidded because of how weak he had grown.

A choir began singing. Wait. . .Was it singing? The words didn't rhyme. . .They were singing softly, telling him to come home. . .Jane was there, smiling and begging him to come home. His parents were there, begging him to come home as well. His conscience laughed. His parents hated him. His old gang members begged him to return home. It was like a large cult of beggars, cohercing him to leave the blackness of his former life and journey to the bright new life he could have.

"Oh fuck .. . He's not stabilizing!!!!" A medic screamed
"FUCK FUCK FUCK! I'm losing him! Someone, god damn it, anyone, stop his fucking bleeding. . .God damn it!" A marine puked at the sight of all the blood. Moments later all Elias could here was

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
And then there was nothing. . . . .

And then there was something

His body jerked, there was a strange sounding noise. His chest throbbed, his eye lids figured. . .His breathing stabilized.
"Jesus Christ in heaven . .. He's stabilized. . .We need to move him. . ." Elias heard a medic say.

[Shadow]

Shadow walked in after a moment sighing he didn't like the attention he was getting. Preferring to stay quiet now he was a god on the battle field. The only man able to sprint through a hail of fire resque a comrade and run back then still be able to kick more ass the one bullet that was in him he took out himself though it wasn't easy. He walked over to Elias, "How you holdin' up?"

[Mr. Death]

Elias held up a weak and trembling hand and gave a thumbs up, a blood soaked bandage over the wrist.

A medic came over
"He'll make it. . .But he's not going anywhere for awhile. . .I also suggest a full scale psych evaluation before he departs for any missions"

[Shadow]

"Alright... You think you need an evaluation, mate?" He asked he wasn't about to send the best Medic in the universe to a shrink to get all emotional... "Hey I saved your life, your choice as to what to do with it. You've saved mine a few times now, I'm still running headfirst into fire." He grinned and gently pat his shoulder.

[Cartwright]

The medics managed to stabilize Godchild and kept all sharp objects away from him. Captain Broadston, one of the few captains on the base approached the lieutenant.

"I need to speak with you," he said quietly, "in private."

The lieutenant nodded and muttered "yes, sir," then followed the lieutenant outside. It was a few moments of staring at the captain as he collected his thoughts, making the lieutenant nervous. The captain finally sighed and put his face in his palms, then whiped the dirt away from his face. His face turned to dead seriousness.

"Lieutenant, the corporal cannot stay in the Corps. The psychological stress on him has finally proved to be deadly and he'll be receiving a medical discharge out of the Corps. He's a danger to himself and others. I don't want to have such a great man leave this Corps, but it seems things have gotten too stressful for the man," the captain said, then added, "we'll keep this secret until later, got it?"

The lieutenant nodded, more to himself than to anyone else. He understood completely why this had to be done. Hopefully Godchild could get in a few more missions on his service record before he was discharged out. Or maybe if he proved that he was no longer affected by the stress put on top of him, he could stay in the Corps. It all depended and there was still time. Still time to keep a good Marine in the Corps.

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[Mr. Death]

Elias sighed. . .He didn't even know what was going on. Well he did now. . .But he hadn't earlier. He just remembered a knife. Wait. . .Why had he done it? He didn't know. . .Or did he? Yes he did. . .He had to know. . .

"Hayek .. ." He bade for the LT to come to his bed

A thousand things were going through his mind. . .He needed to get his shit together. . .He almost died. .. And had been denied of it once again, perhaps it was time to accept his unfortunate, coincidental immortality, embrace it even . ..

[Shadow]

He turned back looking at Elias again, "Yeah?"

[Mr. Death]

"What. . ." Elias began, a lump in his throat formed, and he had to swallow, then his eye began to water slightly, so he rubbed it quickly
"What uh. . .What'd he say?" Elias asked.

What he had done was stupid and wreckless. . .He was beginning to see his own faults, his own flaws, and it haunted him now. He needed to reform himself. . .To become a new Elias, a better one.

[Shadow]

Don't worry about it Elias... Do me a favor and get well soon.." He sighed and stormed out obviously frustrated now himself. He stood outside thinking about it all he was about to lose a good friend and a damn amazing medic. He slammed his knee into the wall and his fist into a mirror effectively breaking it and cutting up his hand. "Damn it." He growled...

[Cartwright]

The captain located the lieutenant and, feeling bad, interupted him from his anger.

"Lieutenant, look - we may have a way for him to stay. If he passes a psychological evaluation and proves that what happened here will not happen again, he can stay in the Corps and the medical discharge will be forgotten. Call it - a gift from the brass." The captain said, then left.

[Mr. Death]

Elias lay in bed, thinking. He had to go through the deep annals of his mind. . .Through the dark corridors of his twisted life and search for the truth of things.

He needed to find himself again. Not the Infamous Nazi convicted for seven murders, not the bitter medic who was always the sole survivor of his platoon. He needed to find Elias Godchild, reknowned medic of the SMC. He told himself he would see Jane Nighson again, she had promised it. As soon as she could take leave she would visit him, she had promised. That was enough to put him at ease. People relied on him, hell. . .Even the medics who tended to him relied on him.

He couldn't die, but why would he want to? He had so much work to do. . .So many tasks ahead of him. Without him, his boys might die because some FNG medic didn't know the difference between a Triple Climactic wound and an Impact Induced Siezure. . .

The cobwebs of his conscience were beginning to dissipate. . .Replaced with a sort of awareness he hadn't felt in a long time.