The Rift (Reboot)

James looked down at the boy with pain written on his features. “I figured you’d follow. And you are. So I guess I was right,” he said as he stumbled through the doorway and looked around the cottage with a focused gaze. Cabinets. Shelves. He began rummaging them. When he opened the doors of a wardrobe he finally found his prize. A box full of first aid supplies. It was as if he willed it to be there.

With a relieved, slightly tearful smile, he pulled it out of the wardrobe and set it on a table, collapsing into the chair beside.

Hali trudged back to the cabin behind the rest, wishing he could ask for help, but he didn't have the ability to do so. Besides, why were they all injured? He entered the room and sat in the corner, watching.

He came to a stop next to the chair where the man with the leg injury was. He was still mad about almost being left behind, even though the guy had supposedly guessed he would follow, but that injury had to be pretty bad if he needed medical stuff. It was old medical things, too - nothing like the stuff the Alterans used now. He had learned about it, of course, but it wasn't like he had really seen it used in action.

He stood on his toes and peered into the container. Digging around through the supplies, he grabbed onto a roll of bandages and what he thought was an antiseptic. It didn't look like it, but it definitely smelled just as terrible as the things he had seen in the infirmary. He held them out to the guy in the chair, a smug grin on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing, even though they said he never focused on his studies.

James nodded as he took the things from the boy’s hands. “Thank you,” he said quietly, as he set them on the table while he began to unwrap his leg from the torn sleeve he tied around it earlier. It was clear he was trying not to show the extent of his pain, but he looked miserable as he finally peeled off the bloody garment. Once he rolled up his pant let all the way and nothing was covering the wound, he propped it up on a nearby chair and looked at the boy. A look of realization met his eyes. “Oh. Oh god uh. Where’s the other wounded man. He needs immediate attention.”

'The other wounded man' drags his hide inside and onto the nearest chair, wincing as he moves. He can feel the pain with every beat of his heart, its movement jarring the projectile trapped inside. He should never have been so careless.

As the others began to pull out strange objects that seemed to have magically appeared to treat their injuries, Hali stood again and came a little closer. The sight of blood did make him feel sick, but he figured he'd be stuck like this for a while unless a miracle happened. The best thing to do would be to learn how to treat wounds like these people did, in case he got hurt later.

He steeled his stomach and glanced at the first man he met; the guy seemed to have everything under control. Hali turned to the other injured man.

"You want help?" he offered, struggling to form the foreign words in his mouth. He didn't know how much help he could provide, though, seeing as he wouldn't be able to follow any instructions for medical procedures very well.

He considers this, trying to think about it through the pain. Finally he speaks. His voice is thick with a strong German accent. "Ja," he breathes. "Bandages. Something for the blood."

Now that he had helped out the guy with the leg injury, he turned his attention to the other injured man. He shoved his hand back into the medical container and dug around for something he could use. He grinned when his fingers wrapped around another roll of bandages and more antiseptic - even though he was sure he had grabbed the only ones there.

Oh well.

The smug grin still on his face, he made his way over to the chair. He looked at that man and then the only one not injured. After a moment of thinking, he shoved the supplies into the arms of the guy with the cool hair. "You wanted to help," he said, resting his hands on his hips. "So there you go!"

Hali blinked at the child before slowly giving him a nod. Then, eyeing the things in his hands, he cast a furtive glance towards the guy with an injured leg to see how he had handled his injury. No need to let all these people know the extent of how ignorant of these matters he really was. (In fact, he had barely understood anything either the child or the injured man he was attending had said. Their ways of speaking were odd, especially the man's.)

He started unrolling the long, thin thing that seemed to wrap around the injury. That should be a good start.

His leg stung like hell as he applied the disinfectant to his gaping wound. He couldn’t hold it in any longer - and tears of pain flowed freely down his face as he finished wiping up the bloody mess and quickly wrapped the wound. He looked over to see the slow progress the boy and the blue haired man were making at helping the man who had quite literally been stabbed through the chest, and possibly the heart.

He didn’t know how the guy was still alive.

Quickly scooting his chair up to the fellow injured man, he brought what was left of his bandages. Since neither of the others seemed prepared to deal with this, he was stepping in. He grabbed the antiseptic.

“Open up your shirt where the wound is. We need to disinfect it first, then stop the bleeding,” he instructed, his words still pained himself - though he knew the other guy had it much worse.

He does so without replying vocally. He's too much in pain to be able to talk much - thank goodness there's someone here who has some idea what he's doing, though, because otherwise Kratzer would have to be directing this and he can hardly think, much less direct people on getting a bullet out of his chest.

James started cleaning the wound, his brows drawn together in a mixture of his own pain and pity for the other man’s. It didn’t take long for him to realize something was lodged in there that they’d have to fish out. He cursed quietly under his breath.

“Is there a bullet in there?” He asked, partially in disbelief and in false hopes hat he was wrong. He didn’t really wait for an answer. He looked to the other two that were on their feet. “One of you check the bin for something - anything that could be used to reach in and fish it out. Like uh, tweezers or something like that.”

He doesn't answer Peter's question. He wouldn't even if he could hear it - but through the pain, everything's a bit fuzzy and blurred, getting worse by the moment.

He looked up at the guy with the cool hair. When the man didn't seem to understand what he was asked to do, he gave a heavy sigh. "I have to do everything," he complained. But since the two other men seemed really injured and he was the only one actually listening to what the really injured guy was saying, it looked like it was his responsibility.

Another heavy sigh. He hated responsibilities.

He returned to the container and started digging through it. Everything would be so much easier if they just had the right things! Whoever had thrown this medical kit together was an idiot. He wouldn't have to keep doing errands if he just could use one of those neat healing things he saw in the infirmary.

His hand brushed up against something. It was cold and metallic, and the texture was smooth. He stood on his toes again and peered inside. A small handheld healing device was sitting right on top of all the other supplies. He gave it a suspicious look. It definitely hadn't been there before! But he could use it, so he set aside his concern and eagerly wrapped his fingers around it.

"I've got a healing device!" he announced, rushing back to the injured men. "Now you don't have to use those dirty bandages and yucky antiseptic."

James didn’t know what a healing device was, but he could see that the fellow was starting to fade. Witrh a pointed look, he gestured to the boy. If this was sone kind of joke now was not the time. But if it was some sort of miracle they had to move fast.

“If it’s real, and you know how to use it, come over and help me. Because I don’t know what that is. But this guy’s close to death.” He gestured quickly with his fingers for the boy to come over.