2010-03-15: Fatt Parkman


Matt_V4icon.png Janet_V4icon.png



Date: March 15th, 2010


If the title is awesome, it was all my idea. If not, blame Cody. (Also, Matt escapes.)

"Fatt Parkman"

Building 27 Morgue

One particular doctor seems to be in a chipper mood compared to the others in Building 27, especially in the midst of an outbreak. Two prisoners out! What a score! And a rush! And all underneath the noses of the government. This is not to say that she can act lightly, but she has an increased bounce in her step in her step — just a little. She still seems serious, but the success has its effect on her. Like the other medical staff she walks around with a mask over her face and gloves on her hands (that she's constantly replacing). Virtually every prisoner has got the disease. They are itchy, unsettled, and overall feverish.

In fact, Janet hasn't left the barracks in over a day and a half — lying down for rest when she can take it. But she's been supervised all-too-well the last twenty-four hours. No time to bail anyone else… yet. But the vials are ready, her salmon-coloured scrubs are on, and her black doctor's bag is in her hand.


Ever serious, ever the good government agent who only does what he's told, Tim Morris tags along with Doc McCarty, a mask over his face, though he's otherwise clothed in a neat suit - complete with tie. It's becoming more and more apparent that people without abilities aren't susceptible… The science team is starting to look into that. Until they can rule out any possibility of infection the the human staff, though, all precautions ar being taken.

"I don't need to tell you again, Doctor," he says, laying a hand on Janet's shoulder. His touch is almost reasurring; he raises his hand, taps it once. He can take one today. It'll be more difficult since the escape of Bishop. The Protocol is keeping a closer watch on everyone.


Meanwhile, halfway across the building:

The TV lounge is more full than usual. At first, the inmates tried to avoid one another, worried about what sort of infection was going around and whether anyone would bother to give them any real treatment for it. Then, once it turned to be some airborne bug that couldn't be dodged - and perhaps couldn't be survived either, if the two missing prisoners were a sign of things to come - they came together again, determined to reach out for any and all company while they still could.

Except one. Groaning in pain, Matt turns over onto his stomach, pulling his pillow down over his ears in a hopeless attempt to shut out the fatalist thoughts pouring in from all sides. Normally he'd be able to do it, but once he contracted the illness himself and his immune system started siphoning off his energy to try to fight it off… Ironically, his headache is insistent enough that the itching has stopped bothering him.


Janet's cheeks flush involuntarily at the contact. While her lips are covered her eyes reveal a rather sheepish grin from behind the mask. And the patient in the room by himself is the one that catches Dr. McCarty's attention. As she, "of course, Agent Morris. I'm all professional all the time!" But as approaches the lone prisoner her thoughts betray her, «He touched me!» She takes another step towards Matt.

"You look like you're in rough shape, how are you feeling? Can I give you something to help you sleep?" «For a deep sleep.» "It'll help with the pain. I promise it will." She bites her bottom lip underneath her mask.


Morris' thoughts are surprisingly quiet and focused directly on the task at hand. It doesn't seem like he's one to dwell on what's happened in the past, or what will happen in the future, as the case may be. It's all very precise; he's goot at his job. He's been trained. Of course, he's also a traitor in technicality. In reality, what he's doing is far less traitorous than what the Protocols are doing to American citizens.

Standing several steps away from Janet, he folds his hands in front of him. "Doctor, perhaps you should let one of the technicians tend to this one." It's said rather pointedly; he's looking out for the doctor. Too many patients dying directly under her care, and the game is over. "We can come back in a bit. See how he's doing."


Oh, sure, help him sleep. Help him slip into the Big Sleep is more like it. Matt pushes up on his hands and—

The other agent's thoughts. Faked deaths? Escape? Well, that's good news - something that's been few and far between in recent weeks. And, even more so than the others, he knows something that needs to be shared with someone on the outside.

Outwardly, he continues to vent his annoyance, in case anyone else is watching them. And because he can still do witha bit of venting. "Piss off!" he yells, throwing his pillow at the door before turning onto his back again and lacing his hands behind the back of his head. Maybe counting the ceiling tiles will help him get through the next little while.


Janet's eyes sideglance Morris before her eyebrows furrow. "I'm a doctor Morris. I save lives, but… I guess you're right — lots of patients to see — " «Don't worry, I'm getting you out. Then you'll get better.» Not everyone in her care has died, but the two that have were both in her care. There's a moment where she flinches, it's a tell in a way, but she'd planned for this. "Wallace! Kowalski! Please tend to this man." She reaches into her bag and extracts a vial of clear fluid — it's labelled ibuprofen. She reiterates the dosage to the pair, "It's imperative he receives no more — and NO less — than that, do you understand?" «C'mon ladies, take the vial…»

Wallace takes the vial and clucks her tongue with a nod. Doctor McCarty is one of the worst known delegators in the history of the Barracks. «Perky freak of nature, thinks I can't do my job right! I fainted ONCE. Ohmygosh! Yeah… that makes me incompetent…» Wallace thinks about her doctor-colleague. «Some days I wonder if she's got a few loose screws. Her sister got what she deserved.»

That said, Janet walks out of the barracks and towards the television area. «I don't like not being here to make sure they don't screw up.» She frowns behind her mask before actually leaving the room.

"This will pinch a bit," Wallace announces after measuring a syringe to the doctor's specifications and using it to prick Matt's arm.


Morris seems to be able to read Janet's expression without being able to hear her thoughts. Even if they screw this one up, the necessity to keep Janet here, where she can potentially save more lives is far greater than the need to save one man - even if he is someone that they have to try and save. His thoughts aren't malicious.

The agent also thinks that Wallace is a competant enough doctor to administer the correct dose. Or, rather, incompetant enough to fail to catch the fact that it's not ibuprofin in the syringe.

"Down the hall. There's someone who's just showing signs of a fever. I'm sure he'll appreciate your help."

He does look over his shoulder as the other tend to Parkman, though, eyes narrowed slightly. «I hope he wakes up.»


Narrowing his eyes first at the bottle, then at the assistant, Matt remains prone and lets her get on with the injection. Perhaps she'll end up getting what she deserves, herself, for that attitude— but he probably won't be around to enjoy it. Sucks, doesn't it?

Afterward, he rolls onto his side and stares at the wall instead, focusing on what the alleged painkiller is doing to his system. Nothing good, or at least it doesn't feel that way. You'd damn well better be right, he thinks, as he begins to drift off.




Janet's shoes are silent against the concrete floor of the morgue. She looks behind her to seek the approval of her partner-in-crime before she walks down the rows and rows of drawers. Quickly she gives a strong pull on one particular drawer. As the drawer slides open, Matt's body comes into focus.

Unlike earlier, she's not wearing a mask now. Finally she reaches into the pocket of her lab coat and pulls out a fresh syringe and a new vial of fluid. Carefully she measures out the fluid and ensures there's no bubbles in the needle before injecting it into Matt. "Come on. Wakey, wakey…" she chimes lightly as she holds down his shoulder to check his vitals.


Morris is vigilant as always. After checking to make sure that there's no one entering through the main door, he locks it. It won't keep the determined out, but it will deter someone long enough for them to drag Matt's body to the incinerator… Hopefully alive. The stolen keycard is pressed to the door's plate, and it clicks open - hesitantly, Morris thinks - and he pulls the door open. He's greeted by the same stale scent as last time, though he did have to let Baker in earlier through the access chute. "Baker, you still in there?" he calls. The steel walls of the incinerator carry his voice well, bouncing it back and forth and amplifying it.



Crouched down by the access chute is a womandressed all in black, with extremely long braided black hair (it matches all the soot so it's harder to see). "Here, van's ready. No one's even gone near it, they must be busy looking for the escapee." It speaks wonders for the security of the place, once you're in, you're basically in. She stands slowly and marches over to the morgue access, "You need help hauling Parkman out?" He's not going to be easy, that's for sure, but between the three of them they should be able to manage. Of course it'll just be Morris and Janet til they're out of camera view.


Matt could use some help being hauled out, if his sluggish movements are any indication. At least he holds still long enough for Janet to withdraw the needle, and for the better part of a minute afterward as well. "…all right, I'm up, I'm up," he mumbles, once he gains enough confidence that his vocal cords will do what he tells them to. "Baker? I owe you a beer. And a punch in the mouth." It can wait, though; he contents himself with rubbing the feeling back into his arms and waiting for further direction.


"Easy there," Janet offers him her hand to help him up as she shoots Morris and then Cody a look of desperation; she needs help to get him to the door. She's little and he's substantially bigger than her. "Yes, please! Help would be good!" She bites her bottom lip as she gives a quick glance to the door. It's still safely locked.


After checking to make sure Cody's there, Morris steps backward so he can help Janet get Parkmen up off the slab. "Worry about that later," he says, with some irritability. Cody's risking her life to be here, after all. They all are. None of them deserve a 'punch in the mouth.' Of course, Morris knows that Cody's done her share of irritating the inmates.

It's… probably earned.

"We're going to get you out of here. Just…" He helps Matt up by placing one arm under his shoulder. "Gotta get you through the access chute somehow." In a bodybag. This is not going to be easy. Of course, the AP didn't plan for large escaping ex-cops when they built the incinerator. It's kind of like the ventilation system isn't quite big enough to conceal a full-grown person. Really, people who build shady bad guy hideouts should plan for these things! "Easy now. You might feel a little sick at first."

Despite the warning, Morris seems to be in a bit of a hurry.


"Don't worry Parkman, there's lots of beer where we're going." There is, Cody's fridge is always stocked with the staple. Without another word, the agent slips under the arm of the large man, taking Janet's place to allow the doctor to make sure everything's covered behind them. As she and Morris help the hulk toward the chute, she gives a dubious look and then one to Parkman «Geez, I hope he fits…». She begins humming in her head as soon as that little slip is let out though, it's never any good to let a candid woman with a sailor's mouth around a mind reader.

Really… never, ever, a good idea.


"Thanks," Janet murmurs before she raises two fingers to Matt's neck to check for a pulse. "I think you're going to be okay, Mister Parkman," she grins, but her grin is hesitant at best. It's premature in a way. «What if they catch us? What if they pin this on us?» She smiles despite herself. «Darnit all Morris looks good today… ahhhh focus on task at hand…»

She glances over to the incinerator. "Alright… we need you to try walking, Mister Parkman. I know you feel dizzy, just let the agents guide you and help you out…"


Matt turns his head to one side, glowering at Baker. Who, in his book, earned it ten times over. « It's your fault I was in here in the first place, you skinny b— » but no, focus, he still needs to make it out of the building. Preferably before some eager beaver turns the incinerator on. "All right, I'm going," he mumbles, stumbling forward in more or less the right direction.


The incinerator itself is actually pretty large. Getting Matt down the hallway and into the large round oven is the easy part. "Got the bag ready, Baker?" It's a formality. A precaution. Just in case anyone looks at the chute at just the wrong time, they don't see a prisoner rolling down it - they see some poor sod who wasn't lucky enough to survive. Once in the van, they can ditch it.

To Matt, he explains - even though the guy can read his thoughts. "We're doing this at a period of low security in the area. The agents assigned never check it. Or if they do, it'll be a first." Review of security tapes to figure out just the right times to do this was a bitch, but Morris did it, and here they are.


On the floor is a body bag, zipped open and waiting for Parkman to slide in. "I keep telling people, only way out of this place is a collar or bodybag." Cody says rather good naturedly, letting the big guy loose so she can crouch on the floor near the vent they'll be shoving him out of. Looking toward the door, she silently mouths toward the doctor to get a move on. "I'll go first to make sure the coast is clear." Taking her Glock from it's holster, she holds it just above her face and jumps down the chute, sliding to her feet at the end.


Matt scratches his head. Collar? Coffin, maybe, but— Never mind, he has more important things waiting for him on the other end. The kids, the ex… and someone with a better idea what Zeta is, and how to stop it before it starts, which may or may not be one of these people. Nodding to Cody just before she jumps, and each of the others in turn, he hoists one leg and then the other into the bag. It'll be just like a three-legged potato sack race, he muses, if I'd ever been in one of those.

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