Posted on Tue Feb 25th, 2020 @ 1:44pm by 1st Lieutenant Gabriel Stewart MD
(OOC: Before the Nightwolf timeline)
The last encounter with the Reavers had taken its toll … some would say, it had brought some balance to Gabriel’s extremely good luck streak.
“Gāisǐ de, zhēn gāisǐ!” (Damn, that hurts to hell!) He looked down at his left forearm, where his hand used to be, and quickly concluded that he had just a few seconds to cinch his survival, not to mention his arm.
Grabbing the nearest strand of plant, as well as a stiff stick, Gabriel used his right hand and his teeth, and, fighting off the impending unconsciousness, tied a makeshift tourniquet around the stub of his left forearm. He continued to use the stick to tighten the tourniquet until the bleeding stopped, then exhaled through clenched teeth and looked for his med-kit.
“How fortunate” he thought. “I see two med-kits.” He reached for one of the med-kits, and grabbed … thin air. “Zhè dàodǐ shì zěnme huí shì? (What the hell is going on?)” Propping himself up on his left elbow, he used his right hand to reach for the middle of the three med-kits, and was able to drag it closer. Reaching inside, he grabbed a syringe and made a stab at upper portion of his left arm, then released the plunger.
Slowly, all of the pain left his body. Gabriel leaned back against … something that gave way slightly. Twisting his head around slowly, he came face to face with the upper portion of a body. Not knowing that it was not a complete body, he smiled slightly and said “Hěn gāoxìng nín zài zhèlǐ.” (Glad you are here.) and dozed off.
Someone was calling his name over and over and over and … “Bì zuǐ! Guān diào nà gāisǐ de dēng! (Shut up! Turn off that damn light!)”
“Dr. Stewart! You need to open your eyes.” Turning his head slowly toward the voice, and squinting through eye slits, Gabriel looked at the nurse, then down at his left … “You’ve suffered the loss of your left forearm. Both the ulna and radius were severed midway between the elbow and wrist. The prosthesis is being engineered and should be ready by this afternoon.”
“Good. Now, let me sleep!” Gabriel turned his back to the nurse and the bright light and slept the next two days. When he woke, the nurse was standing over him. “I’m afraid there was a problem with your genetic profile. The prosthetic did not form properly. We can either try again, with probably a 33% success rate, or you can get a mechanical prosthetic.”
“Méiyǒu gāisǐ de jīxiè língjiàn! (No damn mechanical parts!) I’ll take what you have.”
Three days later, Gabriel left the medical center with his organic prosthetic. Returning to his lab, he decided this would be the last time he went anywhere without arming himself. “Arming myself. Zhēn kěxiào! (That's damn funny!)” he thought to himself.
Six months later, he had his modified med-kit ready, along with the micro-chain mail-like gauntlet/glove, complete with a handcuff-like link to keep the med-kit attached to the hand. Inside the med-kit, along with the normal medical instruments and supplies, was an assortment of chemical and mechanical projectiles, designed to do everything from stunning someone in various degrees of , both physically and chemically, to rendering them comatose, at which point the taking of the life was just a matter of choice.
Tags: gabriel, stewart, medical,