poly_chromatic | » 1st delivery

[There's a young man dressed in a ripped red shirt and black shorts lying on the ground. Next to him, is what looks like a bike... rather, what used to be a bike, but now its front wheel is all twisted and the spokes stick out every which way. Honestly, the bike looks in better shape than the man who groans into consciousness, rolling onto his side to face the camera.]

V? [He looks confused more than he is in pain. First, this isn't Manhattan and this isn't his cell phone. Secondly, he remembers he wasn't alone before he passed out. Sitting up is painful, but possible, and while most people would be concerned about being in a strange new town and/or injured, this guy is clearly more concerned about his big wheel. The blood running down his forearm isn't even a concern at the moment.] Shit! Asshole cabbie. Gonna fuck him up.

[ooc: Doctors, feel free to grab him up for treatment? He has a gash to his arm that needs stitches, busted ribs, some bruising... basically, he's a ball to treat.]

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Quite an entrance! Sideswiped into this world is a first.

What the fuck happened to you?

[Wilee might be staring at the device like it was the one who tossed him off the bike. Ignore him.]

A douchebag and an asshole in a car.

[He's had a bad day.]

[Yeah, things are still fuzzy and he's still calling for V, technically Vanessa, and not getting an answer, but the device is making noise. Wilee reaches for it, only now realizing his arm is bleeding yet shrugging it off. He's had worse.]

What?

You should go to the hospital. Do you need directions?

[Yeah, he should, but he won't. Not right now, at least. Things need to be delivered.]

What I need is to find the dick who rammed me so he can give me a ride since my bike's fucked up.

I don't think that's possible.

[ For a moment she almost sounds happy. Simply because he sounds like everyone back home. ] If you can walk I can come and help you over, if not I can call an ambulance.

I don't need one. I'm fine. [He stumbles to his feet and wavers a bit. See, he's right as rain. Just... alone and no longer in New York. Not good.] Have you seen a girl with me? Dominican, yay high, also on a bike?

You're not in Kansas anymore. Look around, notice the near absence of vehicles parked and otherwise.

[Well, yes, no cars. No traffic either. Lots of pedestrians though. Not much difference there.]

Wasn't from Kansas. Where am I?

Welcome to the City, and thank-you for not landing in the fountain.

[Lucky you, Wilee, it's not too long before a doctor appears. Cameron is on her way to lunch, but there's really no such thing as being off the clock.

She doesn't need to see more than the wrecked bike to be at his side, assessing the damage.]

Don't move-- I'm a doctor.

Well, shit, guess ya ain't gonna be happy about bein' stuck here, either.

No, you're the only one I've seen arrive.

[ Furrowing her brow. ] You probably have no idea what's going on, do you?

This ain't the city.

[His definition of the city is Manhattan, like the locals call it. This is a piss poor suburban excuse of a city.]

Naaaaah. [He's waving his hand, the uninjured one, because Wilee's not trying to hear anything about being stuck anywhere.] Nobody's getting stuck because I'm getting the hell out of here and finishing this delivery.

No, and I don't really wanna. I got this delivery that needs to be made and that's all I care about.

[Oh boy, a doctor. Not what Wilee needs right now. He still have to deliver Nima's package and time is running out and now he has no bike.]

I'm okay. I'm fine.

[And also bleeding on everything.]

[If she had a nickel for every time someone said that... well, here it wouldn't do much good.]

You're not,

[she counters simply, disapprovingly, leaning over him to block him from getting up and taking a long look at his eyes to check his pupils.]

Can you tell me what happened?

[He flinches back a little from the sudden intense staring into his eyes. He knows what she's checking for; luckily, he was wearing his helmet.]

A cab happened. I'm fine. Nothing's broken. I would be able to tell.

It's not always that easy.

[A cab means not here, which means there's nothing to be gained asking him what day it is or where he is or anything of the sort. Which is very nearly par for the course, in the City.]

This definitely needs to be disinfected, and probably stitched as well. [She's apparently satisfied by the state of his eyes, at least for the moment, and has moved on, fingers moving to circle his wrist, check his pulse.] I'm Doctor Cameron. Can you tell me your name?

Wilee. [Who is still fine, by the way.] Just pour some alcohol on it. I have to go back to work.

I promise, Wilee, that's the one thing you don't have to worry about right now.

[People who are fine do not gush blood all over strange sidewalks, Wilee.]

Any trouble breathing? [Her other hand is hovering just above his chest. Ribs are awfully easy to break. You are going to the hospital, mister.]

Yeah, I actually do.

[This isn't about money. If he doesn't get this ticket where it needs to go, Nima doesn't get her son and Douchebag wins.]

I said I'm fine. [He pushes against her hand as he sits up more, unintentionally putting pressure on one of his ribs. He can't even hide the grimace.] Look. I've broken shit before. This is nothing. I'm good. Just give me a band-aid and tell me what time it is.

[She won't say she told you so, but the look is in her eyes, just a bit. That's at least one fracture, it looks like, plus the laceration. As soon as she's sure he's not going to bolt, she'll put in for an ambulance-- it's not far, but the less those ribs wriggle in transit, the better.]

This isn't going to be easy to accept but-- turn your head, look at the street. You're not where you were. You're not going to be late. And you're coming to the hospital, because a band-aid won't keep your broken ribs from puncturing your lungs.

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