FELLOW AGENTS - [reblog and add yourself]
[Multiples of the same character are allowed! Also, you are allowed to be head of a department if there is already one listed. This list is not for one specific group of rpers. It's so that people can say "Oh hey, we need a Linguistics person for this plot. Look, Agent Morris. We can ask her to help." It's just so people can see who works where and get the help they need. It's come especially in handy for medical staff. Haha! No sweat. Just add yourself to the list. :3]
Accounting:
- Alexander Leibowitz | Level 4
Air Division/Cavalry:
- Lt.Col James Rhodes | Level 8
- Clint Rodgers | Level 1
Artificial Intelligence:
Black Ops:
- James Blake | Level 1
- Lorcan MacIlwaine | Level 6 / Level 9 intelligence
- Natasha Romanoff | Level 9
- Natasha Romanova | Level 9
- Ashlynn Potts-Stark | Level 9
- Charlie West | Level 5
Michael Rowlings | Level 4Communications:
- Juniper Cellist | Level 4
- Micah Warren | Level 4
Consulting:
- Ariadne | Dreamshare
- Eames | Dreamshare
- Jackson Baerenwald
- Jessie Chatte | Otherworldly Magic
- John Churchill | Level 5
- Wendy Eldair | Mutants
- Felicia Hardy | Crime
- Ainsley Harlow | Level 8
- Thera Pardalis | Environ/Earth Magic, Animal Services
- Tony Stark | Avengers Initiative
- London Ferus| Shifter Team Leader
Counter Terrorism:
- Ellis MacMurray | Level 7
Scott Candinsky | Level 7Melinda Watts | Level 6Data Entry:
ESP Squad:
- Caitlin Claymore-Rodgers | Level 7
Field Ops:
Food Services:
- Clint Barton | Avengers Initiative
- Theo Knight | Level 2
- Ilo Lucien | Level 7
- Anastasia Montgomery | Level 6
- Melania Romero | Level 5
- Hazel Brompton | Level 6 (Head of Department - Helicarrier)
Foreign Affairs:
- Orlanda Beauchene | Level 8
- Lily Valli | Level 3
Human Resource:
- Pixel Conner | Level 5
- John Facchino | Level 6
- Maria Hill | Level 9
- Margaret McNab | Level 4
Infiltration Squad Testing:
- Arthur Darling | Level 5
Intelligence:
- Arthur Wright | Level 7 (Head of Department)
Intelligence Analysis:
- Daniel Galoyan | Level 3
- Erikson Sterling | Level 4
Internal Affairs:
- Arianna Marion | Level 4
- Gordon McAllister | Level 5
- Waverly Prentice | Level 4
- Bennington Smith | Level 6
- Lennox Sovesky | Level 7
Interrogation:
- Siren Phillips| Level 8 (Head of Department)
- Nehelenia Wahrheit
Linguistics:
- Emma Morris | Level 3
Magic-op:
- Artemis Lune | Level 6
Medical:
- Revekka Dragomirov | Level 8 (Head of Department)
- David Grant
- Ryan Mason
- Willow Randall | Level Five
- Sarah Tenison
- Gideon Whitt
- Gregory House
Psychology:
- Marcus Johnson | Level 6
- Kalina Maas | Level 2
Psi:
- Aura Henley | Provisional Level 1
- Kate Neville | (Head of Department)
- Sam Winchester | Level 1
Public Relations:
- Janet van Dyne | Level 7
- Joshua Conall | Level 7
Research and Development:
- Bennett Black | Level 7 (Head of Department)
- Matt Jenkins Level 6
- Jennifer Kelly Level 4
- Henry Pym Jr. | Level 6
- Howard Stark
- Ilana Stark | lLevel 6
- Cycero Tesla | level 5
Security:
- Balian Abrams | Level 7 (Head of Department)
- Ettore Di Stefano | Level 5
- Charlie Kayson | Level 2
Superhuman Cleanup Department of Sanitation (SCUDS):
- Ted Jones | Level 4
- Archie Madison | Level 6 (Head of Department)
Secretarial:
Training:
- Rhaine Rochester | Level 7 (Head of Department)
Undercover:
- Clint Barton | Level 7
- Clint Barton | Level 7
- Oliver Benjamin | Level 1
- Sheri Grayson | Level 3
- Sebastian Moran | Level 3
- Bobbi Morse | Level 7
- The Professor | Level 7
Unnaturals:
- Teague Galen| Lvl 8 (Vampire Liaison. Also Vault)
- Penelope Morgan | Level 7 (Head of Department)
- Isaiah Smith | Level 1
- Autumn Stark | Level 1
- Dean Winchester | Level 2
Vault:
- James P. Quick | (Second-In-Command)
Weapons:
- Wilhelmina Hammond | Level 2
- Serena Salvatore | Level 1
- Howard Stark | Level 9
So, it seems I’ve gathered a small following. My horde continues to grow. Soon, I’ll be...
So, it seems I’ve gathered a small following. My horde continues to grow. Soon, I’ll be able to take over the world…
Welcome, one and all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have patients to ignore, including you. If you have an inquiries, send them in. I’m sure I’ll get to them. Eventually. Maybe never.
So, as the king of pranks (second perhaps only to Deadpool), any tips you can share for April 1st?
Well, aren't I a little late? Guess that doesn't matter much anymore. And my secrets will remain my own. Come up with your own material. Now if you'll excuse me, I have pretend work to do.
Do you remember the first lie you ever told?
Photo
Photo
The Doctor is in the House: Playing House
The Doctor is in the House: Playing House:"Oh." For a moment, Thera just blinked at him. This was not what she'd been expecting. She'd tuned her brain down to neutral to make it through the usually endless medical fussing, poking and prodding, and it took a second or two for it to make the jump to another track.
"Right." The jump was made, and she slumped back on the pillow. "So I just got stripped down to my bruises for nothing?"
She eyed the man settling himself into the chair - wondering if he knew or cared that it was actually a commode - with curiosity and no little relief. She hadn't been looking forward to however long she was going to be here, at least this was a break in the monotony.
"That's basically the diagnosis I made, and I didn't clog up med school for 10 years. Can I go now? Or at least make a call?"
"You do realize that those things are called 'bulletproof' for a reason, right? Bunch of shmucks in a lab somewhere shoot dummies wearing those things to make sure they work right. Wouldn't send you out in the field without them, now would they? Oh, no wait. That's how the government works nowadays, doesn't it? We're all just cannon fodder. Without the cannons."
The bag crinkled as he picked into it and flipped through channels. And there it was. His favorite medical soap. "I honestly don't care, there's a phone on the other side of you. Calls everywhere. I should know. I just pranked some kid the other day."
Well, it wasn't a kid, per say. More like a grown man-child with a hilarious speech impediment. He sighed heavily, shoulders straightening a bit as he glanced over at the woman.
"Relax. You're going to be fine. The idiots here couldn't tell an internal bleed from a bruise anyways. Good thing I do."
He was barely in the room five seconds and he could already see she'd be fine. A little bruised and stiff for the next week or two, but with some meds, she'd heal just fine. The nurse came back in the room moments after he'd said this, looking a bit annoyed at him, before nodding to "his" patient, carrying a banana bag over to the bedside. A few seconds later, everything was hooked up and the nurse was coming over to him—and purposely stood in front of his view of the television. She looked peeved.
"Aren't you supposed to be doing your job? You're on the clock."
House glanced over at Thera, who was now busy hovering over the phone, before looking back at the nurse. "I have already diagnosed she'd live. What more do you want?"
He was, in fact, very bored. He'd only had two cases since being on the Helicarrier. Not exactly the plethora of puzzles he'd been promised. And it wasn't like the most interesting characters on board the ship could actually get sick. He was left wiping snot-nosed agents and diagnosing the flu. And that new 'bout of syphilis, well… that had raised some awareness since his announcement. But nothing that held his attention for more than five minutes.
The woman in front of him refused to move, as if staring him down would get him up and moving on the job. They stayed that way for another thirty or so seconds before she straightened, pursed her lips and turned on her heel to leave the room.
"Well, DUHHH, doc." At least he'd been interesting for maybe 15 seconds before turning out to be just another dick. "In case your ego doesn't have its hearing aid in today, I was agreeing with you."
She shook her head, throwing back the covers and starting - slowly and still rather painfully - to climb out. He didn't care? That was a good enough medical clearance as far as she was concerned. She also didn't need to listen to him wah-wah about the government, or to watch that absolute fucking crap he had on the TV.
She had both feet out and heading for the floor when there was movement, and the nurse came back. Thera looked up quickly. "He said I could go."
It might have been a little more convincing if her voice had been stronger, and not still a little bit strained from the effort of moving. Either way, the nurse's eyes narrowed and she shot a venomous look toward the doctor in his chair, before waving at Thera to get her ass back into bed.
"But - !" She groaned, sliding her feet back under the covers. Fuck. Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling as the nurse connected all the pointless bits and bobs, then she had a front row seat for the schoolyard politics that ensued. Seriously, screw this for a joke. She leaned over, picked up the phone and dialled Loki's number. She wasn't looking forward to this, but better to face it now.
"Hey." Bracing herself when he answered, "I'm back. I … " Pause - come on now, out with it. "I'm in medical."
She was pretty certain the whole room heard the reply.
The nurse left just in time for the big blow up on the phone. House spared a glance to the hunched over form of the woman holding the phone out at arm's length. The shouts on the other end of the receiver were quite loud and he heard most of what was said. Sounded like a man, and he didn't exactly sound happy. Okay, well, pissed off. House turned his attention back to the television, waiting for the click of the receiver to hit the phone base before he swung his bad leg over and got up, moving toward the sink to wash his hands and toss his empty chip bag away.
He motioned for Thera, who was now slumping, to sit up and began adjusting the banana bag. Mostly IV fluids, she did look a little pale, and some mild pain medication to take the edge off her pain. He dug into a moveable desk of drawers, yanked a stethoscope out. "Lean forward."
He pressed the flat head of the stethoscope against her bag, told her to breath. There was a little bit of struggle here and there, but everything checked out, nothing unusual. Or nothing that should be unusual. She sat back up, eyeing him for a moment. He sighed noisily through his nose, lips pursed.
"I'll get your discharge papers sent down as soon as I get Nurse-zilla to give up on keeping you here. You're practically a free woman. Well, from here anyway, I don't know about your relationship." He finally concluded.
OH MY GOD THIS IS AWESOME I LOVE YOU.
The Doctor is in the House: Playing House
The Doctor is in the House: Playing House:Ow. Ow! Thera grit her teeth. It was still painful moving around too much. The nurses had wanted to cut off the outer layer of winter clothing, but honestly that would have taken forever - and besides, she suspected that jacket was going to be needed as evidence. Instead she'd sat or lain down while they removed her boots, trousers and jacket - and hesitated, finding the bike-leather armour underneath. Thera looked at them. "Whaat?"
She unzipped the jacket, the major thing that had saved her life, let the nurse help her squirm out of the trousers; all in all, way, way more fun when Loki did it. The nurses set the armour aside, and finally, thankfully, she was dragged out of the sweaty, itchy thermals beneath.
"Oh thank gods … " She managed to get in a bit of a discreet scratch, sighing in blessed fucking relief - before her hand suddenly shot across, catching the nurse's wrist with a smack.
For a second or two there was silence, the nurses eyeing both her and their proximity to the duress buzzer, until Thera's brain caught up with what she'd done. "Oh." She gently released the other woman, grimacing from both the realisation and movement induced pain. "Sorry. How about I get those?"
She reached up, sheepishly unhooking the jewellery the nurse had been about to remove. "Fairly intense sentimental value."
Understatement. Her triple-moon necklace, the gold chain holding her ring, and the bracelet on her wrist. The nurse held out a small 'Patient Belongings' bag for her to put them in, and made sure she could see the bag being safely tucked away.
She sat while they put on her hospital gown, professionally eyeing the still-florid bruises over her torso. "Looks worse than it is," Thera assured them, hoping that was actually so; the colour was a little less ferocious than when she'd been examined on-site, but was still quite the rainbow.
"Um … " She winced a bit as she lay back, gasping a little - the sudden movement really hadn't been a good idea - "Any chance I can make a phone call, please?"
The nurse's reply was cut off, however, as the door to the room opened to admit a tall, rather grouchy-looking man, carrying a patient file and leaning heavily on a cane.
Ah. Looked like the call was going to have to wait, which may have been just as well. She was going to be in trouble soon enough.
The nurse finished without another word, and then bustled out, giving House a two-second warning glance. He ignored her and moved further into the room, dumping the file into the slot at the foot of the bed. "You are the reason I'm not finishing my race track. And for all I know, that nosy little nurse that was just in here might be headed out to tear it down."
He eyed the woman for a moment. She was good looking, pretty enough, and according to his file, much older than she looked. Protection of Gaia or something to that sort. Guardian or Protector. Either way it was interesting to a degree. He's suddenly in the circus and surrounded by the weirdest things and people imaginable. Hulky green men, genius playboys, gods from other mythologies—but none that proved that the actual Big Man himself existed, oh no—werewolves, and superhumans of all sorts.
"So, you were shot. Big deal." He leaned on his cane as he stooped over and reached for the remote on the bedside table, flipped the television on and plopped into the cushy, squat recliner chair, propping his legs up. "So have I. You don't see me complaining. And I didn't have a vest on."
He pulled a bag of chips from his pocket. It had been opened earlier, and was almost gone. He was hungry, but he weighed the options of limping all the way down back to the break room and steal someone's lunch or just finish his chips for the moment. He chose the chips. "You've got bruising. That's normal. So's the pain. If there was continuous internal bleeding, the nurse wouldn't have just left you alone. You'd either be dead by now or in surgery. You're fine."
"Oh." For a moment, Thera just blinked at him. This was not what she'd been expecting. She'd tuned her brain down to neutral to make it through the usually endless medical fussing, poking and prodding, and it took a second or two for it to make the jump to another track.
"Right." The jump was made, and she slumped back on the pillow. "So I just got stripped down to my bruises for nothing?"
She eyed the man settling himself into the chair - wondering if he knew or cared that it was actually a commode - with curiosity and no little relief. She hadn't been looking forward to however long she was going to be here, at least this was a break in the monotony.
"That's basically the diagnosis I made, and I didn't clog up med school for 10 years. Can I go now? Or at least make a call?"
"You do realize that those things are called 'bulletproof' for a reason, right? Bunch of shmucks in a lab somewhere shoot dummies wearing those things to make sure they work right. Wouldn't send you out in the field without them, now would they? Oh, no wait. That's how the government works nowadays, doesn't it? We're all just cannon fodder. Without the cannons."
The bag crinkled as he picked into it and flipped through channels. And there it was. His favorite medical soap. "I honestly don't care, there's a phone on the other side of you. Calls everywhere. I should know. I just pranked some kid the other day."
Well, it wasn't a kid, per say. More like a grown man-child with a hilarious speech impediment. He sighed heavily, shoulders straightening a bit as he glanced over at the woman.
"Relax. You're going to be fine. The idiots here couldn't tell an internal bleed from a bruise anyways. Good thing I do."
He was barely in the room five seconds and he could already see she'd be fine. A little bruised and stiff for the next week or two, but with some meds, she'd heal just fine. The nurse came back in the room moments after he'd said this, looking a bit annoyed at him, before nodding to "his" patient, carrying a banana bag over to the bedside. A few seconds later, everything was hooked up and the nurse was coming over to him—and purposely stood in front of his view of the television. She looked peeved.
"Aren't you supposed to be doing your job? You're on the clock."
House glanced over at Thera, who was now busy hovering over the phone, before looking back at the nurse. "I have already diagnosed she'd live. What more do you want?"
He was, in fact, very bored. He'd only had two cases since being on the Helicarrier. Not exactly the plethora of puzzles he'd been promised. And it wasn't like the most interesting characters on board the ship could actually get sick. He was left wiping snot-nosed agents and diagnosing the flu. And that new 'bout of syphilis, well… that had raised some awareness since his announcement. But nothing that held his attention for more than five minutes.
The woman in front of him refused to move, as if staring him down would get him up and moving on the job. They stayed that way for another thirty or so seconds before she straightened, pursed her lips and turned on her heel to leave the room.
rstevens: This is one sarcastic fucking medical...
This is one sarcastic fucking medical textbook.
…huh. I guess there are people out there who share my special sense of humor after all.
The Doctor is in the House: Playing House
The Doctor is in the House: Playing House:Ow. Ow! Thera grit her teeth. It was still painful moving around too much. The nurses had wanted to cut off the outer layer of winter clothing, but honestly that would have taken forever - and besides, she suspected that jacket was going to be needed as evidence. Instead she'd sat or lain down while they removed her boots, trousers and jacket - and hesitated, finding the bike-leather armour underneath. Thera looked at them. "Whaat?"
She unzipped the jacket, the major thing that had saved her life, let the nurse help her squirm out of the trousers; all in all, way, way more fun when Loki did it. The nurses set the armour aside, and finally, thankfully, she was dragged out of the sweaty, itchy thermals beneath.
"Oh thank gods … " She managed to get in a bit of a discreet scratch, sighing in blessed fucking relief - before her hand suddenly shot across, catching the nurse's wrist with a smack.
For a second or two there was silence, the nurses eyeing both her and their proximity to the duress buzzer, until Thera's brain caught up with what she'd done. "Oh." She gently released the other woman, grimacing from both the realisation and movement induced pain. "Sorry. How about I get those?"
She reached up, sheepishly unhooking the jewellery the nurse had been about to remove. "Fairly intense sentimental value."
Understatement. Her triple-moon necklace, the gold chain holding her ring, and the bracelet on her wrist. The nurse held out a small 'Patient Belongings' bag for her to put them in, and made sure she could see the bag being safely tucked away.
She sat while they put on her hospital gown, professionally eyeing the still-florid bruises over her torso. "Looks worse than it is," Thera assured them, hoping that was actually so; the colour was a little less ferocious than when she'd been examined on-site, but was still quite the rainbow.
"Um … " She winced a bit as she lay back, gasping a little - the sudden movement really hadn't been a good idea - "Any chance I can make a phone call, please?"
The nurse's reply was cut off, however, as the door to the room opened to admit a tall, rather grouchy-looking man, carrying a patient file and leaning heavily on a cane.
Ah. Looked like the call was going to have to wait, which may have been just as well. She was going to be in trouble soon enough.
The nurse finished without another word, and then bustled out, giving House a two-second warning glance. He ignored her and moved further into the room, dumping the file into the slot at the foot of the bed. "You are the reason I'm not finishing my race track. And for all I know, that nosy little nurse that was just in here might be headed out to tear it down."
He eyed the woman for a moment. She was good looking, pretty enough, and according to his file, much older than she looked. Protection of Gaia or something to that sort. Guardian or Protector. Either way it was interesting to a degree. He's suddenly in the circus and surrounded by the weirdest things and people imaginable. Hulky green men, genius playboys, gods from other mythologies—but none that proved that the actual Big Man himself existed, oh no—werewolves, and superhumans of all sorts.
"So, you were shot. Big deal." He leaned on his cane as he stooped over and reached for the remote on the bedside table, flipped the television on and plopped into the cushy, squat recliner chair, propping his legs up. "So have I. You don't see me complaining. And I didn't have a vest on."
He pulled a bag of chips from his pocket. It had been opened earlier, and was almost gone. He was hungry, but he weighed the options of limping all the way down back to the break room and steal someone's lunch or just finish his chips for the moment. He chose the chips. "You've got bruising. That's normal. So's the pain. If there was continuous internal bleeding, the nurse wouldn't have just left you alone. You'd either be dead by now or in surgery. You're fine."
House Call
There was a rustling over the PA system throughout the Helicarrier as it was turned on, a faint and annoyed voice fading in and out. Then a rather cheerful, if condescending voice came on.
“Hello, agents! This is Dr. House! You’re probably wondering why I am addressing the entire ship instead of sending a memo out.” There was a pause. “Buuuut, that’s not important right now. What IS important is the recent bout of syphilis running rampant throughout the ship. I don’t care what you do on shore leave, but if one more agent comes in and lies to me again about what they have and it turns out to be syphillis, I’ll find something even worse than a damned rectal exam. And believe me, there are so many of them out there. Don’t. Test. Me.”
The hard tone then melted back into a more cheery disposition. “So, either man up and tell the truth, or face the dire consequences. That is all.”
The announcement was left as it was, no add ons required. House tossed the microphone back on the desk, nabbed his cane and limped his happy ass back to his quarters. If he hurried, he could catch his favorite soap.
Playing House
Following 'Meanwhile in Russia' …
Another lazy day, another round of idiot agents. They were worse than civilians, he mused. At least he could predict their kind of stupidity…
Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. There was that one woman with her inhaler. Or that guy with the boxcutters. Or maybe even Tritter. Not that he was missing Princeton-Plainsboro. Far from it. Just thinking of it brought up a well of emotions that he ruthlessly squashed down. He sighed as he put the finishing touches on the little race track he’d made. He hadn’t done this in a long time. He picked up a mini Tyrannosaurus figurine, and stuck it in it’s place, then picked up the little Hot Wheels corvette toy, and made his way to the top of the track. “Fire in the hole!”
He let the car go and down it slid, going in for the loop-de-loop, the long stretch, the sharp curve, the jump—and over the T-rex it went! Perfect landing. It brought a giddy, childish smile to his face and he limped across the room to fetch his car toy to do it again. Now, if he could add another five feet of track, then he could put in the triple loop-de-loop he’d wanted. All he’d have to do is sneak back out and past Dr. Ames and that nosy nurse to get the supplies…
The door flung open and Dr. Ames himself stood in the doorway, knob clutched in his hand tightly as the grizzled man stared him down. Or up, rather, considering there was a significant height different between them. Ames scowled as he reviewed the race track and then leveled his steely gaze on House.
“What,” the other doctor growled, “in the hell is this?”
“The races, boss, but I’m afraid betting is closed. You might have better luck next week, though.” House reached for his cane and propped himself up on it, still fiddling with the toy car in his hand. “You can be the blue camaro if you want. I’m always the corvette, though. Sorry.”
“Get this mess cleaned up and get your ass out here.”
“In that order?”
“Dammit House, not now. We’ve got an agent down.”
“Well, that’s not new. You have idiots going down all the time.”
Despite his words, House limped off after Ames, closing the patient consultant room behind with a loud click.
“She was on a mission and got shot. She had a bullet proof vest on, but we want to make sure she doesn’t have internal damage or broken bones.”
“Isn’t the whole point of wearing a vest supposed to keep things from getting broken or bloody? Just kind of funny we’re checking something that’s been tested already.”
“I’m not in the damned mood to play your games. She’s your patient today. I’ve got that damned idiot who thought playing with fireworks in the hanger bay to take care of.” A sly smile spread across his face and he chuckled. “Might not be too bad to let him be in some pain a little while longer, though. Teach ‘em a lesson.”
“Deadpool?” House had never met the man, personally, but he’s heard of his escapades and crazy stunts throughout word of mouth on the Helicarrier, seen him in the cafeteria. Never met him, though.
“No, surprisingly. Young kid. Now go take care of her, she should be here by now.”
And with that, Ames shoved a patient file into House’s hands, and the man fumbled to catch it, gripped it hard and stared after the shorter doctor for a moment longer. Then he turned on his heel, propped the file open and read through everything swiftly, thoroughly, then snapped it closed.
He paged for one of the other doctors—young kid, fresh from medical school, it was written all over his face—and shoved the patient file to him. “Go take care of her. I’ve got a race track to get to.”
“Dr. Ames said she was your patient. He sent out a memo.” The kid responded back, handing the file back. House didn’t take it.
“And I just spoke to him, he changed his memo. Go take care of it.”
The kid didn’t budge, and neither did he. They stared one another down for a few moments longer. “Dr. Ames didn’t issue another memo. He said not to do what you ask for this one. Sorry, Dr. House. She’s yours for the day.”
House snagged the file back and scowled as he took his gimpy ass back down the hallway. The kid took himself back into the lounge he’d been in moments before, disappearing from sight. The patient room wasn’t far and House slid the door open. A woman was laying on the bed, and the usual click and hum and beep of monitors was going off. A nurse was finishing up with the woman. She looked to have some troubles breathing, but from his standing point, she was a in-and-out case. Not something worth his time. Now that race track, that was worth his time. He still had that triple loop-de-loop to install.
MEMORANDUM FOR ALL S.H.I.E.L.D. EMPLOYEES From: Dr. Gregory...
MEMORANDUM FOR ALL S.H.I.E.L.D. EMPLOYEES
From: Dr. Gregory House
Subject: Colds and idiots
The next moron who comes in complaining about the sniffles is getting a mandatory rectal exam. And I don't care if you dangle between the legs or not. IT'S A COLD. GET OVER IT. Take some damned Tylonel and stay the hell out of the Medical Ward unless you're gut shot. And if you are, don't even see me. Go bug Dr. Ames.
MEMORANDUM FOR ALL S.H.I.E.L.D. EMPLOYEES From: Dr. Gregory...
MEMORANDUM FOR ALL S.H.I.E.L.D. EMPLOYEES
From: Dr. Gregory House
Subject: Guitar
The next idiot who tries stealing my guitar is going to pay very dearly. I've got eyes in the back of my head. I dare any of you to try it again.
shieldhumanresourcesdept: MEMO #254 Dr. Ames is hereby ordered...
MEMO #254
Dr. Ames is hereby ordered to cease referring to anyone's injuries as a "mortal flesh wound." He may use the phrase "'tis but a scratch," but it had better be applicable.
Furthermore, he may not diagnose any SHIELD employee with "terminal hypochondria" and tell them that they only have six months to live. Sending "helpful reminders" every fortnight thereafter is likewise frowned upon.
The bullet wound is behind the flesh wound. It's just hiding the more severe, life-threatening hole in your agents. Who shouldn't be allowed near a pistol, let alone a potato gun. So, technically, he is diagnostically correct.
And everyone has a mild form of hypochondria. They just don't know it yet or hide it better than most people.
SHIELD Human Resources Department: askhousegenius: SHIELD Human Resources Department: Not Quite According...
SHIELD Human Resources Department: askhousegenius: SHIELD Human Resources Department: Not Quite According...:Blood work, white blood cell panels, and other tests were running or had ran already. House didn't trust the SHIELD lackeys to get it done right. And he didn't trust Dr. Ames completely. Not yet. Probably never.
Everything looked good. Normal. He didn't care for normal. He wanted abnormal. The most he's seen was that one agent who had a tapeworm, contracted from his roundabout in some third world country. Not to mention another parasite in his digestive track, courtesy of uncooked meats. Double whammy.
He ordered a round of antibiotics and a morphine drip when Hill was recovering. Her shoulder was fine, apart from the giant, gaping stab mark it'd made. It nicked bone, cut through some muscle, but it'd recover fairly well. Movement might've been stiff, but she'd live. He went over the numbers several times, running a hand over his stubbly face. He sighed. Well, so much for hoping a case would fall into his lap…not that he minded. He was back in the mood to watch his soap. Time to hit the patient room again.
Maria was THAT patient. The one no one wants because they hated hospitals and doctors as much as House detested normalcy. She was arguing with the nurse on duty about when she could leave, or at the very least have her data pad back so she could get some real work done. Ames had finally dialed back the pain meds, so she could think again, and all her thinking was getting her was boredom of the highest degree.
She wanted to see reports, write memos, annoy junior agents… maybe piss off Wade once her burns healed; one major crisis at a time.
"Quite whining." House grumbled. It was an upcoming holiday weekend, so a skeleton crew was enlisted in the Medical Ward. Most of the nurses were gone, Dr. Ames was on his off day and of course, House got stuck with menial jobs. That included interactions with the patient, even if it was the woman who'd recruited him. He changed the banana bag of meds, eyeing Agent Hill from the corner of his eyes.
He turned back to the edge of her bedside, reviewed her charts. Compared his notes to all the lab tests. Normal. He put everything back, eyeing the sullen-looking woman. She looked stir-crazy. But she was healing up, which was what every regular doctors want.
"You'll be discharged in another day or two. Suck it up."
Attention, Attention Everyone...
Lupin cleared her throat, grinning like the Mad Hatter as she kicked her pawed feet up on the desk, intercom in hand.
"This is very important, so pay attention because I'm only saying this once."
She paused for effect.
"You have all lost the game. That is all."
Maria heard the voice over the intercom from her bed in the medical bay, and scowled. "DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT"
House glanced up from his video game, listening to the PA system. He glanced at his game, scratched his chin, then resumed playing. Like hell he was gonna lose.
SHIELD Human Resources Department: askhousegenius: SHIELD Human Resources Department: Not Quite According...
SHIELD Human Resources Department: askhousegenius: SHIELD Human Resources Department: Not Quite According...:SHIELD Human Resources Department: Not Quite According to Plan
Lupin scowled as she watched Dr. Ames retreat after he'd given her an ass-chewing. And she knew it wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. She felt like a boot again, getting railed on by a higher authority. She growled low under her breath as another doctor—or she assumed, he was wearing civilian attire—with a cane went trailing after Dr. Ames.
Agent Hill was carted away as the two doctors left after her, their voices too low for any human, but she caught the conversation perfectly. The older-looking doctor with the cane gave her one last glance, before disappearing. She heaved a sigh.
Damn it, that wasn't supposed to happen…but then again, what the hell did happen?
Someone finally gave her something for the pain, since the burns weren't so bad. She hated the feeling, the spinny floating sensation pain medication gave her. They were working on her, scanning the shoulder while someone else laid something cool and soothing over the burns on her neck and upper chest, and then someone did something to her hand that made it feel better and worse at the same time.
They finished the scans, but she was riding the wave of morphine in and out of consciousness, and had no idea what was really going on around her.
Blood work, white blood cell panels, and other tests were running or had ran already. House didn't trust the SHIELD lackeys to get it done right. And he didn't trust Dr. Ames completely. Not yet. Probably never.
Everything looked good. Normal. He didn't care for normal. He wanted abnormal. The most he's seen was that one agent who had a tapeworm, contracted from his roundabout in some third world country. Not to mention another parasite in his digestive track, courtesy of uncooked meats. Double whammy.
He ordered a round of antibiotics and a morphine drip when Hill was recovering. Her shoulder was fine, apart from the giant, gaping stab mark it'd made. It nicked bone, cut through some muscle, but it'd recover fairly well. Movement might've been stiff, but she'd live. He went over the numbers several times, running a hand over his stubbly face. He sighed. Well, so much for hoping a case would fall into his lap…not that he minded. He was back in the mood to watch his soap. Time to hit the patient room again.
SHIELD Human Resources Department: Not Quite According to Plan
SHIELD Human Resources Department: Not Quite According to Plan:It really wasn't supposed to play out like it did. Really, it wasn't. It was supposed to be a harmless prank.
And then it went wrong. Maybe Lupin underestimated how Agent Hill would react. Okay, no, she definitely underestimated how she'd react. That was bad on her part….
Somebody was going to pay for heinous crime of allowing his boredom to fester and rot. "Come work for us," the woman had said. "You'll get to study your fields of interest," she'd said. House released a derisive snort as he continued flipping channels. He was tucked away in an empty patient room, trying to find what channel his favorite medical soap was on. These televisions had a different set of channels every day, he could've sworn it was on channel 13 last week…
The door was shut, and the blinds were drawn. The usual MO. House almost expected to see Foreman walking through that door—or even Cuddy, God forbid—but maybe even…
His lips pinched into a thin line and his brow furrowed deeply. Damn it, why did he have to think of Wilson just now? His leg suddenly ached and he reached a hand to rub it, while the other stabbed at the controller with more force than necessary. Finally, he gave up channel surfing. He wasn't in the mood to watch his favorite medical soap any more.
A few moments after he did so, a commotion started up outside. He sat up, placing the remote down as he reached for the pill bottle in his jacket pocket. He popped a few pills into his mouth and put the bottle back just as Dr. Ames' voice came on over the PA system. "House, get in here, I need an extra set of hands! And don't try anything cute, I know where you're hiding!"
House contemplated feigning ignorance, perhaps with the class act of napping. But his interest was slightly piqued, so he grabbed his cane and hustled out of the patient room as fast as his gimp leg would allow. He limped outside just in time to see the medical team scrambling inside the Medical Ward with a stretcher suspended in their hands. They moved swiftly without delay towards the little ER. The only impression he got before they disappeared was a woman, slightly bloodied and possibly burned, if the new scent in the air was anything to go by.
Dr. Ames was shooting rapid fire questions to a woman with…fuzzy dog ears, a bushy tail, and pawed back feet of a dog with wicked sharp claws. The tail was pressed against one of her legs, while her ears was twitching in an irritated manner as she replied just as quickly to the doctor. One of her answers must've dissatisfied Dr. Ames, because he whirled on the woman in a heartbeat.
"Just a prank? Are you serious—explosives! Explosives are not a prank, fireworks or not! That knife could have cleaved right through her skull! You're lucky those burns aren't any more serious either!"
The woman's ears pressed tightly against her skull, looking like she was ready to say something more, but Dr. Ames turned away and spotted him. "House! Scrub up! I need your help with this one."
Giving Dog Girl a last glance, he looked down on Dr. Ames, frown still in place. "You do realize that I'm not a surgeon, right? And I'm not a damned lackey."
"Well, you are now. It's Deputy Director Hill, she's got a freakin' KA-bar sticking out of her shoulder, minor burns on her neck, face, a few on her arms and one on her collarbone. She's lost feeling in one of her hands, but she's cognizant and alert. The burns we don't have to worry too much about, just clean them and push antibiotics to keep infection at bay. It's the knife I'm worried about, it might've severed some muscles and nerves, but we won't know until we take it out."
House, despite his protests, followed after Dr. Ames towards the prep room before the ER. It wasn't exactly a brainbuster, nor was it a mystery what was wrong with her. But, he's always told his team—well, maybe at least once or maybe twice—that if someone came into the hospital for one thing, there was always something else wrong with them. Underlying conditions, hidden diseases, dormant parasites—he felt an old spark, just a small twinge, light up in him. He pulled a face for a split second.
"What happened?"
"Fireworks prank gone wrong. Our resident pyromaniac werewolf fancies herself a pyrotechnic or ballistics expert—I don't know." Dr. Ames grunted before waving him off. "Get scrubbed up, all right? Maybe you can do your thing if—and only if—there really is something else wrong with her besides the obvious. I doubt it, though, she's got a pretty clean bill of health. Just don't aggravate her; she's a damned good shot. You'll have more than enough reason to limp around besides that leg of yours and I ain't cleaning it up."
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