Giovanni 'Sarcastic Little Shit' Rammsteiner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofobedience) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-04-24 12:45 pm
ofobedience) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-04-24 12:45 pm
[semi-open] Sick as a dog
Who: Giovanni and anyone he has CR with/anyone who is likely to be at the new Kennel on Leith/Company people maybe? If you want to tag and aren't sure how they know each other or want to plot something just send me a PM.
Where: The new Kennel on Leith
When: Chapter 5, W10D6 - W11D3
Summary: Gio is experiencing nanotech fuckery, which has knocked out his immune system and left him sick. He's in a Recuperation Room at the Kennel if anyone wants to drop by for any reason (science reasons/visiting reasons/Company superiors checking on their investment/whatever!)
Restrictions/Warnings: possibly mentions of violence, but not much really
[The Kennel, or what passes for its successor within the forests of Leith, a long-disused bunker repurposed for the task of housing the Dogs now that they've been moved en mass from the steadily-increasing ruin of Westerley to a moon the Company still considers to be salvageable, is in an uncharacteristic state of quiet disarray. Steadily, progressively, more and more of the Cerberus Unit have succumbed to nanotech malfunctions, some of them now contained to the small cells of their rooms, turned near-rabid and feral as their tech hurls them into a state of overdrive, violence impossible to keep in check. Others are left injured or weakened or simply unusable from the sudden failure of the nanites in their bodies to keep powering the enhancements that give them their purpose. Whatever the case, the prevailing atmosphere is one of tense but silent concern.
The recuperation rooms, newly set up and expected to be rarely used, are all occupied, scientific staff and Handlers alike left on edge and vaguely frazzled by the shift in workload, the difference in their usual steady rhythm. It's in one of these rooms that Unit 68 currently resides-- after the incident with Hijikata, nanotech ramping up to the point where he'd no longer been in control, Dog Bite used to reassert submission, Giovanni's tech has failed to come back online even after the poison had bled out of him, immune system compromised, knocked out into nothing. For something that's never spent a day sick in his life, the fever that currently wracks him seems a strange and dangerous thing, body weak and shaking, plunged into vivid nightmares that make no sense and yet which seem oddly familiar, from which he wakes on big indrawn breaths, covered in sweat.
Regular, invasive tests are administered, scientific experimentation in an attempt to restart his enhancements followed by periods of rest and quiet observation. The room is silent but for the thrum and blip of monitors, and starkly white and small, the bed on which he shivers and shakes and drifts in and out of consciousness made comfortable enough yes, but there's little in the way of interaction for him, scientists coming to administer medication, to resume testing, though few of them ever address him directly, talk over him as though he lacks the capacity for comprehension. This is nothing new, a facet of life for the living weapons of the Kennel, but during moments of bright lucidity he's left interminably bored.
Perhaps you're Company personnel come to check up on him, or someone he knows just well enough to warrant a 'social call'. Whatever the case, he's sick and he's bored and he's high-strung with nervous anxiety, unaccustomed to illness, made afraid by the lack of knowledge over what is happening to him. Come help him pass the time.]
Where: The new Kennel on Leith
When: Chapter 5, W10D6 - W11D3
Summary: Gio is experiencing nanotech fuckery, which has knocked out his immune system and left him sick. He's in a Recuperation Room at the Kennel if anyone wants to drop by for any reason (science reasons/visiting reasons/Company superiors checking on their investment/whatever!)
Restrictions/Warnings: possibly mentions of violence, but not much really
[The Kennel, or what passes for its successor within the forests of Leith, a long-disused bunker repurposed for the task of housing the Dogs now that they've been moved en mass from the steadily-increasing ruin of Westerley to a moon the Company still considers to be salvageable, is in an uncharacteristic state of quiet disarray. Steadily, progressively, more and more of the Cerberus Unit have succumbed to nanotech malfunctions, some of them now contained to the small cells of their rooms, turned near-rabid and feral as their tech hurls them into a state of overdrive, violence impossible to keep in check. Others are left injured or weakened or simply unusable from the sudden failure of the nanites in their bodies to keep powering the enhancements that give them their purpose. Whatever the case, the prevailing atmosphere is one of tense but silent concern.
The recuperation rooms, newly set up and expected to be rarely used, are all occupied, scientific staff and Handlers alike left on edge and vaguely frazzled by the shift in workload, the difference in their usual steady rhythm. It's in one of these rooms that Unit 68 currently resides-- after the incident with Hijikata, nanotech ramping up to the point where he'd no longer been in control, Dog Bite used to reassert submission, Giovanni's tech has failed to come back online even after the poison had bled out of him, immune system compromised, knocked out into nothing. For something that's never spent a day sick in his life, the fever that currently wracks him seems a strange and dangerous thing, body weak and shaking, plunged into vivid nightmares that make no sense and yet which seem oddly familiar, from which he wakes on big indrawn breaths, covered in sweat.
Regular, invasive tests are administered, scientific experimentation in an attempt to restart his enhancements followed by periods of rest and quiet observation. The room is silent but for the thrum and blip of monitors, and starkly white and small, the bed on which he shivers and shakes and drifts in and out of consciousness made comfortable enough yes, but there's little in the way of interaction for him, scientists coming to administer medication, to resume testing, though few of them ever address him directly, talk over him as though he lacks the capacity for comprehension. This is nothing new, a facet of life for the living weapons of the Kennel, but during moments of bright lucidity he's left interminably bored.
Perhaps you're Company personnel come to check up on him, or someone he knows just well enough to warrant a 'social call'. Whatever the case, he's sick and he's bored and he's high-strung with nervous anxiety, unaccustomed to illness, made afraid by the lack of knowledge over what is happening to him. Come help him pass the time.]