Note: Due to NC's restriction on Drug Use I cannot use the most obvious "drug" references, so this ended up being rather convoluted to prevent an RP about recreational drug use by making the result a poisoning that was made to appear to be recreational drug use.
"Where am I? Where have I been? Where am I going?" She was in transit, something that she instinctively knew but did not fully comprehend. Laid out in a gurney, a cream colored johnny coat covered with a crisp white sheet, both dotted with flecks of crimson. There was shouting, such commotion that it was impossible for her to discern. There was so much noise, from the burr of the wheels beneath her, to the rattling of the metal pushcart that carried her through a sea of medical persons, curious onlookers and the bereaved. She could not appreciate the gravity of her situation, the inebriation has reached toxic levels in her blood stream, her mind down to the most basic of metabolic functions and beginning to fail even there. Her blood loss was life-threatening as was her steadily deteriorating mental state that was swiftly approaching coma.
Bolus' of Normal Saline and 'pressors for treatment of hypovolemic shock.
Thiamine, dextrose and dialysis for the treatment of alcohol poisoning.
Antibiotics for the prevention and treatment of the sepsis she subsequently suffered from as a result of her lack-luster decision making that day.
Several Weeks Later
"Takahashi..." A woman's voice stated from the foot of the mattress Shiori was laid out on. "Takahashi...." She repeated in a stern voice that would have been steel if the words had form. She then flicked on a lantern that was on an overturned crate alongside the young woman's resting place.
"Wha--" Shiori responded sleepily. The light made no difference to her, it was perplexing what all of those people would do with the strange cylinder on the crate next to her. She wanted to sleep still, her head pounded a rhythm that best resembled a pair playing on the same bongo drum. "It's too early, I need sleep." Shiori complained as she rolled onto her side and tightly clutched the striped blanket that was laid on top of her by an unknown benefactor.
"Get out," the woman stated coldly. "We need this bed for a new patient," she added as she pulled the blanket from her hands.
"Get out?" Shiori parroted stupefied. She was in critical care a few minutes ago, if you could consider a vacant space on the floor with an overturned crate for a table and a smaller box that used to hold bandages now held every last medication, treatment and even her file. Confidentiality was likely not a high priority considering all that the Omni Prime Medical Facility has went through in the past few months. Between the destruction and the rebuilding coupled with the most recent events she had not come to recognize, the hospital was working short-staffed and short-bedded (if that is a term). "But, I am still in liver failure?" Shiori answered stating the obvious. While she could not see her flesh, she knew it was an abnormal hue (jaundice) and her mind was a blur of confusion and sleepiness (a consequence of her elevated ammonia levels) that was bordering between lethargy and somnolence.
"Don't have time for this. Get out... OUT... OUT with you!" She declared as she shooed Shiori from the hospital room turned ward that housed 5 people in a 10x10 space. "Clean bill of health, get to work later today," she ordered.
"Uh huh... thanks mum... erm I mean 'mam," Shiori stammered as she corrected herself and held her head as she guided herself out of the room. It was a mistake, it was all a mistake. She had barely drank more than a single fruity drink in a night her entire life, but she wanted to forget who she was and what she felt to the brink of self-destruction. She was in love with Sousuke but the did not love her or at least not in the way that she loved him. She wanted him to be hers, but he wanted to belong to someone else... anyone else. Her heart ached more than her head still over this revelation. For a few nights she was able to forget, in an intoxicated stupor she found enjoyment and she was able to forget him for a little while. Then she was in the dark blat pit of nothingness and sleep, a place she lived for several more days she she lingered between life and death. She liked the pit, Sousuke was never there. She felt betrayed in a way.
"More Sand," the woman muttered as she brushed off the pile of sand left on Shiori's former resting place. "Every day..."
"Hi..." A basic, informal greeting announced by the newly returned medic. It seemed that every unoccupied space was a bed in waiting as closets became wards and supplies were piled into the halls where only the narrowest paths were left for the staff to traverse. Holding herself up on what was likely a make-shift IV pole made from a chair and a broom she added, "I am cured. Reportl'ing for duty." She saluted pitifully as she hung onto the intravenous pole.
"Aye," a clerk behind a large tan desk responded as she eyed the recovering woman suspiciously. "...And who are you?" She asked as she pretended to write a note. She looked rather professional considering the mess that surrounded her. hair pulled back into a tight bun and thick rimmed glasses over a narrow face gave her that
"Takahashi Shiori," she responded, sounding somewhat bored.
"Shiori... Shiori... Shiori..." she answered thoughtfully as she pretended to review a list. "Ah, you are the Stewards niece."
"The what? No-no-no, I am his cousin," Shiori corrected her. She was not going to get anywhere today except out of the hospital it seemed considering the fact that she was just exiled from the OPMF.
"Very good, then you are probably her," the clerk announced in a somewhat perkier voice as she actually opened up a book rather than play pretend. We do have some work here. She looked the medic up and down with a frown, they really were working these poor medics to rags. This one was not even wearing people clothes. Still in a johnny coat with her @$$ to the wind.
Huh, probably her. Does that mean that there is a chance that she was not herself? That made no sense. Perhaps it would if she was aware of the chaos throughout the city that extended beyond the Medical Center. "Yeah, I am probably me," she affirmed perturbed.
"Right-o, here you are." She handed Shiori a sheet of paper, it did not say much but Shiori was illiterate. She was not a book learner, unlike most of her peers. She wordlessly handed back the sheet of paper to the clerk and shook her head 'no.'"Oh, that's right. You're crippled." She made it sound like a bad thing to be blind. Blindness was not a disability, it was something that made her better in a lot of ways. Color was irrelevant for the most part, she could discern the beat of a heart... who cared if he wore a blue shirt. "There is a new psychedelic drug that triggers a euphoric state that drives most into death for lack of caring to live. An autopsy has been ordered on one of the victims of this heinous drug and only the best is requested... You need to find the source of this drug."
Well, the clerk read the mission for the most part word-for-word. The "best" is a derisory term truly. She was barely able to stand upright, her liver enzymes were likely critical and she was certainly far from an exemplary medic. "Alright, I'm out," she announced as she let go of the burdened IV pole and wandered through the maze that was the OPMF. She wondered how fresh the bod was going to be and if she would have any idea what they were dealing with. Well, the body was not going to get any fresher.
The morgue was in a less than obvious place. It was never easy to find even before the Med Tower fell over. Why the old medical center was the location of an epic shinobi battle was beyond her, but finding her way around the new tower was an impossible task. She asked several people if they knew the location of the morgue, but most remained silent and hastened their pace. There always was something disconcerting about the dead. She never minded the dead, they minded their own business and never talked back. Their only issue was their smell after a few days. Those little pine trees on string can only help so much.
Eventually she found the morgue. Sadly, the autopsy had already been preformed. The medical examiner noted the cause of death to be respiratory failure due to suppression of the CNS system and aspiration. The finding was surprising considering the fact that it was mentioned in the clerk's verbal account to be a "lack of will to live" or something of that nature that led to the person's demise. A respiratory failure would suggest that the victim was acutely intoxicated at the time of death or that an external force preventing them from taking in oxygen. Come to think of it, why did the medical examiner claim that it was caused by central nervous system depression in the first place? She furrowed her brow as she continued through the findings, asking the medical assistant to verbalize the conclusions of the examiner system-by-system. The victim appeared to be in relatively good health despite his life-style choices and was even a Genin-ranked shinobi, the only abnormal finding besides the ketones on someone with a relatively normal body weight was hypokalcemia.
That finding was not at all surprising considering the euphoric effects of the drug. Self mutilation was a common nervous reaction, but paranoia and hallucinations could also cause similar outcomes. Whatever it was, it metabolized quickly as there was no drug of discernible quantity found in the body according to the report. The body shown no sign of mutilation or self-harm... an early assumption already ruled out. As she reviewed the findings she noted a new discrepancies. First, death was due to a suppression of the CNS system according to the report but there were ketone bodies detected indicating a level of starvation but the level was not severe enough to kill this particular victim according to the stats provided.
The victim in this situation did not die from the drug (if he or she had ingested the drug), rather this victim was suffocated by an external force. The question here is: why were there no documented defensive wounds? This was a perplexing situation, she was left with 2 possibilities: there was in fact a depression in the CNS that she could not quantify with levels because the drug was so quickly metabolized or this person was somehow incapacitated (likely by the drug) and was then murdered.
She was not going to get any answers here. She was going to have to go to the source of this poison if she wants an answer.
Who would have thought. Apparently the city is a muck with every kind of fiend, criminal and psychiatric. Someone had broken every hooligan,bandit, outlaw from the jails and every lunatic from the wards. It was difficult to make sense of the situation, civilians were acting like raiders, taking what they could from abandoned store fronts and empty homes. It appeared that the shinobis were attempting to maintain order in an essentially lawless society, but not every ninja had the village's best interests at heart as some of Suna's finest joined in the delinquent behavior. Shiori made no attempt to stop them, it was not her duty to do so. She cowered among the scurrying crows and liberated a pair of pants and a tank top. She really did not care what they looked like. The lack of frills was troublesome but it was an improvement from the breeze her underside was continuing to enjoy.
Her destination was the Red Scorpion, a desperado bar even before the chaos. If there was any semblance of hierarchy left in the underworld of Suna, she would find it there. The recreational world of substances was not a mystery, Shiori had just recovered from a legal drug, alcohol and is deleterious effects. She made her way into the bar, she was not a regular less the binge that preceded her hospitalization but she certainly looked the part. She looked like an older woman, near 40 with disheveled long dark hair that she pulled put into a loose low ponytail combed back with her fingers. Her pale blue tank top was plain and too long but a bit low-cut. She did not have undergarments as she stole none and had none on from her hospital stay. Her blue jeans were distressed, acid-washed and rested low on her hips. She was barefoot but she did not seem to care or notice. Her sallow skin, a result of her hepatic jaundice persisted and added to her addict appearance that was unintentional. She took a set on a stool towards the middle of the bar and ordered a glass of water. She did not want fire-water today. "Looking for happiness that is not at the bottom of a bottle today," she announced to the barkeep as she added that she would like a glass of water loud enough to be overheard. "I heard about a new drug, something that makes me happier than life," she added as she accepted her glass of room temp water.
"Hey pretty lady," an older, shorter gentleman greeted as he slid into the stool next to her. "I have just she stuff you need, it is called BLISS." He paused for a moment as he searched his pockets for a small bag. "First sample is free, if it is worth your while... you find me and I'll give you a fair price." He then slinked away like a cat. He never left his name or his contact information. Perhaps the Red Scorpion was like his address. How was it administered? How much was she supposed to use? She had more questions than answers, but perhaps now she had the stuff.
She returned to the OPMF, a little baggie in her pocket. She made her way to the micro and chem lab and she relinquished the bag she had acquired.
The contents of the baggie appeared to be a powdered substance similar to insulin. It could have been reconstituted and then injected for the greatest effect that would have resulted in a drop in blood sugar along with changes in one's level of consciousness. As for being a drug that would cause euphoria, it was rather unlikely. But, this drug did explain a few things but it also gave her more questions than answers. It explained the substance being untraceable. It also explained the alterations in mentation. Insulin overdose when done intentionally has a 25% mortality rate. These deaths were "murder," a man posing as a drug pusher when he was actually a mass murderer. Armed with this new information, Shiori reviewed her findings against that of the autopsy report, the victim's blood sugar was extremely low and this explained the ketones found as well as the abnormal reduction in potassium the victim also experienced.
So, there was a mass murderer out there handing out a pseudo drug called BLISS making promises of happiness.
Her mission objective was complete for now, the drug was identified but there is still a murderer out there and she was the only person that saw "him."
WC: 2615
Mission said:
"Where am I? Where have I been? Where am I going?" She was in transit, something that she instinctively knew but did not fully comprehend. Laid out in a gurney, a cream colored johnny coat covered with a crisp white sheet, both dotted with flecks of crimson. There was shouting, such commotion that it was impossible for her to discern. There was so much noise, from the burr of the wheels beneath her, to the rattling of the metal pushcart that carried her through a sea of medical persons, curious onlookers and the bereaved. She could not appreciate the gravity of her situation, the inebriation has reached toxic levels in her blood stream, her mind down to the most basic of metabolic functions and beginning to fail even there. Her blood loss was life-threatening as was her steadily deteriorating mental state that was swiftly approaching coma.
Bolus' of Normal Saline and 'pressors for treatment of hypovolemic shock.
Thiamine, dextrose and dialysis for the treatment of alcohol poisoning.
Antibiotics for the prevention and treatment of the sepsis she subsequently suffered from as a result of her lack-luster decision making that day.
"Takahashi..." A woman's voice stated from the foot of the mattress Shiori was laid out on. "Takahashi...." She repeated in a stern voice that would have been steel if the words had form. She then flicked on a lantern that was on an overturned crate alongside the young woman's resting place.
"Wha--" Shiori responded sleepily. The light made no difference to her, it was perplexing what all of those people would do with the strange cylinder on the crate next to her. She wanted to sleep still, her head pounded a rhythm that best resembled a pair playing on the same bongo drum. "It's too early, I need sleep." Shiori complained as she rolled onto her side and tightly clutched the striped blanket that was laid on top of her by an unknown benefactor.
"Get out," the woman stated coldly. "We need this bed for a new patient," she added as she pulled the blanket from her hands.
"Get out?" Shiori parroted stupefied. She was in critical care a few minutes ago, if you could consider a vacant space on the floor with an overturned crate for a table and a smaller box that used to hold bandages now held every last medication, treatment and even her file. Confidentiality was likely not a high priority considering all that the Omni Prime Medical Facility has went through in the past few months. Between the destruction and the rebuilding coupled with the most recent events she had not come to recognize, the hospital was working short-staffed and short-bedded (if that is a term). "But, I am still in liver failure?" Shiori answered stating the obvious. While she could not see her flesh, she knew it was an abnormal hue (jaundice) and her mind was a blur of confusion and sleepiness (a consequence of her elevated ammonia levels) that was bordering between lethargy and somnolence.
"Don't have time for this. Get out... OUT... OUT with you!" She declared as she shooed Shiori from the hospital room turned ward that housed 5 people in a 10x10 space. "Clean bill of health, get to work later today," she ordered.
"Uh huh... thanks mum... erm I mean 'mam," Shiori stammered as she corrected herself and held her head as she guided herself out of the room. It was a mistake, it was all a mistake. She had barely drank more than a single fruity drink in a night her entire life, but she wanted to forget who she was and what she felt to the brink of self-destruction. She was in love with Sousuke but the did not love her or at least not in the way that she loved him. She wanted him to be hers, but he wanted to belong to someone else... anyone else. Her heart ached more than her head still over this revelation. For a few nights she was able to forget, in an intoxicated stupor she found enjoyment and she was able to forget him for a little while. Then she was in the dark blat pit of nothingness and sleep, a place she lived for several more days she she lingered between life and death. She liked the pit, Sousuke was never there. She felt betrayed in a way.
"More Sand," the woman muttered as she brushed off the pile of sand left on Shiori's former resting place. "Every day..."
Several Minutes Later
"Hi..." A basic, informal greeting announced by the newly returned medic. It seemed that every unoccupied space was a bed in waiting as closets became wards and supplies were piled into the halls where only the narrowest paths were left for the staff to traverse. Holding herself up on what was likely a make-shift IV pole made from a chair and a broom she added, "I am cured. Reportl'ing for duty." She saluted pitifully as she hung onto the intravenous pole.
"Aye," a clerk behind a large tan desk responded as she eyed the recovering woman suspiciously. "...And who are you?" She asked as she pretended to write a note. She looked rather professional considering the mess that surrounded her. hair pulled back into a tight bun and thick rimmed glasses over a narrow face gave her that
"Takahashi Shiori," she responded, sounding somewhat bored.
"Shiori... Shiori... Shiori..." she answered thoughtfully as she pretended to review a list. "Ah, you are the Stewards niece."
"The what? No-no-no, I am his cousin," Shiori corrected her. She was not going to get anywhere today except out of the hospital it seemed considering the fact that she was just exiled from the OPMF.
"Very good, then you are probably her," the clerk announced in a somewhat perkier voice as she actually opened up a book rather than play pretend. We do have some work here. She looked the medic up and down with a frown, they really were working these poor medics to rags. This one was not even wearing people clothes. Still in a johnny coat with her @$$ to the wind.
Huh, probably her. Does that mean that there is a chance that she was not herself? That made no sense. Perhaps it would if she was aware of the chaos throughout the city that extended beyond the Medical Center. "Yeah, I am probably me," she affirmed perturbed.
"Right-o, here you are." She handed Shiori a sheet of paper, it did not say much but Shiori was illiterate. She was not a book learner, unlike most of her peers. She wordlessly handed back the sheet of paper to the clerk and shook her head 'no.'"Oh, that's right. You're crippled." She made it sound like a bad thing to be blind. Blindness was not a disability, it was something that made her better in a lot of ways. Color was irrelevant for the most part, she could discern the beat of a heart... who cared if he wore a blue shirt. "There is a new psychedelic drug that triggers a euphoric state that drives most into death for lack of caring to live. An autopsy has been ordered on one of the victims of this heinous drug and only the best is requested... You need to find the source of this drug."
Well, the clerk read the mission for the most part word-for-word. The "best" is a derisory term truly. She was barely able to stand upright, her liver enzymes were likely critical and she was certainly far from an exemplary medic. "Alright, I'm out," she announced as she let go of the burdened IV pole and wandered through the maze that was the OPMF. She wondered how fresh the bod was going to be and if she would have any idea what they were dealing with. Well, the body was not going to get any fresher.
1.5 Hours Later
The morgue was in a less than obvious place. It was never easy to find even before the Med Tower fell over. Why the old medical center was the location of an epic shinobi battle was beyond her, but finding her way around the new tower was an impossible task. She asked several people if they knew the location of the morgue, but most remained silent and hastened their pace. There always was something disconcerting about the dead. She never minded the dead, they minded their own business and never talked back. Their only issue was their smell after a few days. Those little pine trees on string can only help so much.
Eventually she found the morgue. Sadly, the autopsy had already been preformed. The medical examiner noted the cause of death to be respiratory failure due to suppression of the CNS system and aspiration. The finding was surprising considering the fact that it was mentioned in the clerk's verbal account to be a "lack of will to live" or something of that nature that led to the person's demise. A respiratory failure would suggest that the victim was acutely intoxicated at the time of death or that an external force preventing them from taking in oxygen. Come to think of it, why did the medical examiner claim that it was caused by central nervous system depression in the first place? She furrowed her brow as she continued through the findings, asking the medical assistant to verbalize the conclusions of the examiner system-by-system. The victim appeared to be in relatively good health despite his life-style choices and was even a Genin-ranked shinobi, the only abnormal finding besides the ketones on someone with a relatively normal body weight was hypokalcemia.
That finding was not at all surprising considering the euphoric effects of the drug. Self mutilation was a common nervous reaction, but paranoia and hallucinations could also cause similar outcomes. Whatever it was, it metabolized quickly as there was no drug of discernible quantity found in the body according to the report. The body shown no sign of mutilation or self-harm... an early assumption already ruled out. As she reviewed the findings she noted a new discrepancies. First, death was due to a suppression of the CNS system according to the report but there were ketone bodies detected indicating a level of starvation but the level was not severe enough to kill this particular victim according to the stats provided.
The victim in this situation did not die from the drug (if he or she had ingested the drug), rather this victim was suffocated by an external force. The question here is: why were there no documented defensive wounds? This was a perplexing situation, she was left with 2 possibilities: there was in fact a depression in the CNS that she could not quantify with levels because the drug was so quickly metabolized or this person was somehow incapacitated (likely by the drug) and was then murdered.
She was not going to get any answers here. She was going to have to go to the source of this poison if she wants an answer.
Several Hours Later
Who would have thought. Apparently the city is a muck with every kind of fiend, criminal and psychiatric. Someone had broken every hooligan,bandit, outlaw from the jails and every lunatic from the wards. It was difficult to make sense of the situation, civilians were acting like raiders, taking what they could from abandoned store fronts and empty homes. It appeared that the shinobis were attempting to maintain order in an essentially lawless society, but not every ninja had the village's best interests at heart as some of Suna's finest joined in the delinquent behavior. Shiori made no attempt to stop them, it was not her duty to do so. She cowered among the scurrying crows and liberated a pair of pants and a tank top. She really did not care what they looked like. The lack of frills was troublesome but it was an improvement from the breeze her underside was continuing to enjoy.
Her destination was the Red Scorpion, a desperado bar even before the chaos. If there was any semblance of hierarchy left in the underworld of Suna, she would find it there. The recreational world of substances was not a mystery, Shiori had just recovered from a legal drug, alcohol and is deleterious effects. She made her way into the bar, she was not a regular less the binge that preceded her hospitalization but she certainly looked the part. She looked like an older woman, near 40 with disheveled long dark hair that she pulled put into a loose low ponytail combed back with her fingers. Her pale blue tank top was plain and too long but a bit low-cut. She did not have undergarments as she stole none and had none on from her hospital stay. Her blue jeans were distressed, acid-washed and rested low on her hips. She was barefoot but she did not seem to care or notice. Her sallow skin, a result of her hepatic jaundice persisted and added to her addict appearance that was unintentional. She took a set on a stool towards the middle of the bar and ordered a glass of water. She did not want fire-water today. "Looking for happiness that is not at the bottom of a bottle today," she announced to the barkeep as she added that she would like a glass of water loud enough to be overheard. "I heard about a new drug, something that makes me happier than life," she added as she accepted her glass of room temp water.
"Hey pretty lady," an older, shorter gentleman greeted as he slid into the stool next to her. "I have just she stuff you need, it is called BLISS." He paused for a moment as he searched his pockets for a small bag. "First sample is free, if it is worth your while... you find me and I'll give you a fair price." He then slinked away like a cat. He never left his name or his contact information. Perhaps the Red Scorpion was like his address. How was it administered? How much was she supposed to use? She had more questions than answers, but perhaps now she had the stuff.
An Hour Later
She returned to the OPMF, a little baggie in her pocket. She made her way to the micro and chem lab and she relinquished the bag she had acquired.
Several Hours Later
The contents of the baggie appeared to be a powdered substance similar to insulin. It could have been reconstituted and then injected for the greatest effect that would have resulted in a drop in blood sugar along with changes in one's level of consciousness. As for being a drug that would cause euphoria, it was rather unlikely. But, this drug did explain a few things but it also gave her more questions than answers. It explained the substance being untraceable. It also explained the alterations in mentation. Insulin overdose when done intentionally has a 25% mortality rate. These deaths were "murder," a man posing as a drug pusher when he was actually a mass murderer. Armed with this new information, Shiori reviewed her findings against that of the autopsy report, the victim's blood sugar was extremely low and this explained the ketones found as well as the abnormal reduction in potassium the victim also experienced.
So, there was a mass murderer out there handing out a pseudo drug called BLISS making promises of happiness.
Her mission objective was complete for now, the drug was identified but there is still a murderer out there and she was the only person that saw "him."
WC: 2615