“Let her go!” shrieked Blight. “Please, Sir? Captain? Mister?”
“Two words: I’m sorry.”
“Don’t give in to his dema-” Blight began, but suddenly flinched, firing a pellet of sleep concoction. However, due to his intense quivering, it would more than likely miss.
Greasemonkey, however, would not.
Without warning he pulls the trigger on his rifle, and there is a bright flash as the weapon discharges a shot at Redstocker’s chest.
Redstocker is hit. His whole body trembled, making him accidentally press the trigger, shooting Juliana in the waste.
@ProfSrlojohn
Juliana was thrown back, a large wound in her side. She fell to the ground unconscious.
“How’s the newborn doing?”
Daria asks.
Redstocker couldn’t answer. The rather large wound in his chest, together with his age, pushed him into stasis
He would see a large gaping wound in her side, oozing energon.
“Now they’re both dead!” cries Blight, whipping out a container of liquids.
Blight frowns, mixing the contents of several vials together in a frighteningly oversized syringe.
If he looked carefully, he would notice she was still breathing regularly.
He takes a very soft sigh of relief, before realizing she was still hurt. He plugged the needle a bit above her side, hoping to stabilize the wound; it entirely depended on how deep it truly was and whether or not he recalled the proper ratio of chemicals. Pressing down on the syringe, he emptied half of its contents.
OOC: What is it supposed to do if done correctly?
Redstocker was still breathing.
Blight quickly rushes over and empties the other half near his injury.
The bleeding slowly stops.
The bleeding slowed considerably, but not entirely.
Blight smirked with his almost total success, before looking to Greasemonkey. “So… we should probably get these two to the hospital or something, right?”
Greasemonkey transforms his rifle back into a cane and plants it on the ground.
“I would have thought that the logical conclusion, doctor,” he says calmly. “Now, see to the lady’s health, if you please, while I summon security.”
“Eh, I can’t tell,” Sprocket says. “I’m not good with bots; that’s Forcep’s work. Or Grommet’s.”
“Still, it’s fascinating. The cube slapped together a bunch of junk from the lab and turned in into… this.”
He gestures to Deus.
@ToaNoah_Wafflemeister In the same med-bay, Forcep had deposited Pixel in a tiny pod in which the minicon could have his energon replenished.