So I really enjoyed this chapter. I've enjoyed all of this story so far even though the pacing is a little slow and repetitive at times, I love the plot and characterization.
For this chapter though Amy's segment felt a little off though. She was talking a little too much like a para-doctor rather than a parahuman.
If Amy were going to treat Taylor normally, there wouldn't be any need for intubation or preping the OR. Amy's control of the normal human physiology is absolute.
Depending on the author's interpretation of her power mechanics it might take time, and she might not want to deal with any swelling or bleeding in the brain, but organ damage and broken bones would be no big deal.
That said, it wouldn't be a great climax if she just walked up and touched Taylor and said, "Bam, you're all better now. I'm gonna go have a cigarette". That led me to think that maybe it would be fun to give the hospital staff a bit more agency in Taylor's treatment. Helps tie in the whole concept of capes not being the most important thing, people are.
Below is my take at a slight rewrite of Amy's ER scene. If the author likes any of this and wants to use it, please feel free to. No credit or extra follow-up needed. And if it isn't the way you want your story to go it won't bother me in the slightest and I'll continue enjoying and looking forward to the next chapter.
Revelations1911 said:
When Amy reached Trauma Bay 2, the scene was chaotic. The medical team was in full crisis mode, voices overlapping as they called out orders and scrambled to save their patient.
"BP's dropping—80 over 50 and falling!"
"She's tachycardic—heart rate at 140 and climbing!"
"Get the crash cart ready!"
Amy pushed through the crowd, her presence commanding attention. "I need a status update. Now."
One of the ER doctors, Dr. Patel, turned to her, his expression grim. "She's got multiple penetrating wounds—arrows, we think—and severe blunt force trauma. Massive internal bleeding, likely from a ruptured spleen and liver lacerations. Possible head trauma, judging by her altered consciousness. We're trying to stabilize her, but she's circling the drain."
Amy moved to the head of the bed, her eyes quickly assessing Taylor's condition. Blood soaked through the bandages, and her breathing was shallow and rapid. The pale, clammy skin and labored breaths told Amy all she needed to know: Taylor was in shock, and if they didn't act fast, she wasn't going to make it.
"We need to intubate her," Amy ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos. "She's not oxygenating well enough on her own. Take off her mask."
The medical team hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. One of the nurses, Johnson, spoke up. "But she's a cape… We can't just—"
See AlsoHow Would College Football Change if the Playoff System Expanded?'Biological doping' claim against Imane Khelif and Lin Yu-Ting - World Boxing NewsWhy Even Straight People Should Be Watching the LGBTQ Presidential ForumTouché Amoré - Spiral in a Straight Line - Forum - Plattentests.de"I don't care about the mask right now," Amy snapped, her voice sharp. "She's dying. We need to get oxygen into her now. Take it off!"
There was another moment of hesitation, but the urgency in Amy's tone broke through their reluctance. Johnson carefully reached up and removed the half-mask that covered Silk's face. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mask came off, revealing Taylor's pale and bloodied features.
"Now, intubate her," Amy commanded.
The team moved quickly, slipping the endotracheal tube into place and securing Taylor's airway. With the mask gone, they could finally get the oxygen flowing properly, and Amy wasted no time, placing her hands on Taylor's head, ready to work.
The ER team worked quickly, inserting the endotracheal tube to secure Taylor's airway. Amy closed her eyes for a brief moment, centering herself as she extended her senses into Taylor's body.
"Massive internal bleeding," Amy murmured, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the machines. "The liver's torn, spleen ruptured, left lung is collapsing—ribs are shattered, too many fractures to count. Cerebral contusions—no, hemorrhages… She's on the verge of organ failure."
Her heart sank as she cataloged the damage. The arrow wounds, while severe, were only the tip of the iceberg. Taylor had taken a brutal beating, and her body was barely holding on.
"She's septic from the gut perforation," Amy continued, her voice tightening. "Her kidneys are shutting down. She's in DIC, she's bleeding out everywhere, but clotting in all the wrong places. This is beyond critical."
"God," one of the nurses muttered, her voice laced with fear. "How is she still alive?"
"She won't be much longer if we don't act now," Amy replied sharply. "Start a transfusion—two units of O-negative, stat. Get me a chest tube kit, and prep the OR. I need to get her stabilized before I can even think about moving her."
The team sprang into action, following Amy's orders with precision. Amy focused her power on Taylor's most critical injuries, starting with the bleeding in her abdomen. She could feel the torn tissues under her hands, the shredded organs that needed to be mended. She concentrated, commanding the cells to knit together, forcing the blood vessels to seal themselves and the tissues to regenerate faster than they ever could on their own.
Amy's hands moved with practiced precision, but as she focused on the arrow wounds, she noticed something troubling. The tissue around the entry points was necrotic, the edges dark and festering. It wasn't just a typical infection—this was something far more malignant, something that didn't belong in a human body.
"Damn it," Amy muttered under her breath. "Butcher…"
"What is it?" Dr. Patel asked, noticing her expression.
"The wounds," Amy explained, her voice tight with urgency. "They're not just injuries—they're infected with something… unnatural. Butcher's power. It festers, corrupts the flesh. I need to neutralize the rot first, or it'll keep spreading."
The team around her tensed, understanding the gravity of the situation. Butcher's victims often faced more than just the physical trauma; the wounds carried a malevolent energy that resisted healing, a signature of the villain's twisted power.
Amy focused her abilities on the corrupted tissue, isolating the festering infection. She could feel the malevolent energy, like a poison seeping through Taylor's body, tainting everything it touched. It wasn't just biological—it was almost like the tissue itself was turning against her efforts, resisting the healing she tried to impose.
She gritted her teeth, pushing back against the unnatural force, neutralizing the infection as she guided the cells to regenerate properly. It was like trying to stem the tide of a raging river, but Amy was relentless, refusing to let Butcher's malevolence take Taylor from her.
Minutes dragged on as Amy battled the festering wounds, her focus unyielding. Slowly, painstakingly, she purged the infection from Taylor's body, forcing the corrupted tissue to heal, cell by cell. The effort left her trembling with exhaustion, but she didn't let up until she was certain the festering was gone.
The machines beeped in response, and Amy glanced at the monitor. Taylor's blood pressure was stabilizing, but just barely. There was so much damage to repair, so much to fix, and time was slipping away.
"Stay with me, Taylor," Amy whispered, directing the lung tissues to expand and contract as they should, coaxing the shattered bones to mend. Her hands moved from one area to the next, making sure that each injury was healed, using mass from Taylor's abundant amount of muscles.
The chest tube was inserted, and Taylor's breathing eased slightly. Amy didn't stop, her focus now on the bleeding in Taylor's brain. This was delicate work, dangerous work. One wrong move, and Taylor could be lost.
As Amy repaired the damage, she felt a strange sensation—a presence, something vast and interconnected, threading through Taylor's very being. Amy's breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay focused.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as Amy continued to heal Taylor, moving from one critical injury to the next. The room was silent, the only sounds were the steady beeping of the monitors and the quiet hum of the machines.
Finally, Amy pulled back, her hands trembling with exhaustion. She looked up at the monitor—Taylor's vital signs were stabilizing. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for now.
"She's stable," Amy said, her voice hoarse. "But she's not out of the woods yet. We need to get her to the OR and finish this."
As Taylor was wheeled away toward the operating room, Amy stood back for a moment, watching the doors swing shut behind the gurney. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but a new wave of exhaustion hit her. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to refocus.
Alternate ER scene
When Amy reached Trauma Bay 2, the scene was chaotic. The medical team was in full crisis mode, voices overlapping as they called out orders and scrambled to save their patient.
"BP's dropping—80 over 50 and falling!"
"She's tachycardic—heart rate at 140 and climbing!"
"Get the crash cart ready!"
Amy pushed through the crowd, her presence commanding attention. "I need a status update. Now."
One of the ER doctors, Dr. Patel, turned to her, his expression grim. "She's got multiple penetrating wounds that seem to be spreading some sort of necrotizing agent, and severe blunt force trauma. Massive internal bleeding, likely from a ruptured spleen and liver lacerations. Possible head trauma, judging by her altered consciousness. We're trying to stabilize her, but she's circling the drain."
Amy moved to the head of the bed, her eyes quickly assessing Taylor's condition. Blood soaked through the bandages, and her breathing was shallow and rapid. The pale, clammy skin and labored breaths told Amy all she needed to know: Taylor was in shock, and if they didn't act fast, she wasn't going to make it.
Amy reached down and placed her hands on Taylor's scalp, ready to work. She closed her eyes, centering herself as she extended her senses into Taylor's body.
Her heart sank as she cataloged the damage. The arrow wounds, while severe, were only the tip of the iceberg. Taylor had taken a brutal beating, and her body was barely holding on.
"Massive internal bleeding," Amy murmured, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the machines. "The liver's torn, spleen ruptured, left lung is collapsing—ribs are shattered, too many fractures to count. Cerebral contusions—no, hemorrhages… She's on the verge of organ failure, but the most critical thing right now is the lack of oxygen in her blood. I'll start with the lung then."
Amy's hands moved with practiced precision, but as she focused on the arrow wounds, she noticed something troubling. The tissue around the entry points was necrotic, the edges dark and festering. It wasn't just a typical infection—this was something far more malignant, something that didn't belong in a human body.
"Damn it," Amy muttered under her breath. "Butcher…"
"What is it?" Dr. Patel asked, noticing her expression.
"The wounds," Amy explained, her voice tight with urgency. "They're not just injuries—they're infected with something… unnatural. Butcher's power. It festers, corrupts the flesh. I need to neutralize the rot first, or it'll keep spreading."
The team around her tensed, understanding the gravity of the situation. Butcher's victims often faced more than just the physical trauma; the wounds carried a malevolent energy that resisted healing, a signature of the villain's twisted power.
Amy focused her abilities on the corrupted tissue, isolating the festering infection. She could feel the malevolent energy, like a poison seeping through Taylor's body, tainting everything it touched. It wasn't just biological—it was almost like the tissue itself was turning against her efforts, resisting the healing she tried to impose. She was so focused on the fight, she startled when a nurse next to her suddenly called out, "SPo2 is below 90%!"
"We need to intubate her," Dr. Patel ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. "She's not oxygenating well enough on her own. Take off her mask."
The medical team hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. One of the nurses, Johnson, spoke up. "But she's a cape… We can't just—"
"I don't care about the mask right now," Patel snapped, his voice sharp. "She's dying. We need to get oxygen into her now. Take it off!"
There was another moment of hesitation, but Amy knew the doctor was right. One of her hands moved from Taylor's scalp down to the half-mask that covered Silk's face and gently tugged it off. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mask came off, revealing Taylor's pale and bloodied features.
"Now, intubate her," Amy commanded.
The team moved quickly, slipping the endotracheal tube into place and securing Taylor's airway. With the mask gone, they could finally get the oxygen flowing properly, and Amy wasted no time, placing her hands on Taylor's head, ready to work.
The ER team worked quickly, inserting the endotracheal tube to secure Taylor's airway.
"She's septic from the gut perforation," Amy continued, her voice tightening. "Her kidneys are shutting down. She's in DIC, she's bleeding out everywhere, but clotting in all the wrong places. This is beyond critical."
"God," one of the nurses muttered, her voice laced with fear. "How is she still alive?"
"Because she is a fighter, but she won't be much longer if we don't act now," Amy replied sharply as she continued pushing back against the infection. "I'm not able to heal enough of the damage with all this necrotized tissue in the way. I... I don't know what to do!" Amy's voice broke at the end of her cry as she felt as if she were fighting against the rush of a raging river.
Dr. Patel gave Amy a grim smile. "You just need to do your part, and we'll do ours." He turned to the rest of the staff swarming around Taylor and started giving sharp orders.
"Start a transfusion—two units of O-negative, stat. Get me a chest tube kit, and prep the OR. Panacea will focus on keeping her in the fight and we are going to have to go in and give her some room to work in there."
The team sprang into action, following the doctor's orders with precision. Amy focused her power on Taylor's most critical injuries, starting with the bleeding in her abdomen. She could feel the torn tissues under her hands, the shredded organs that needed to be mended. She concentrated, commanding the cells to knit together, forcing the blood vessels to seal themselves and the tissues to regenerate faster than they ever could on their own.
She gritted her teeth, pushing back against the corruption preventing Taylor's cells from regenerating properly. It felt like she was holding up a wall, but Amy was relentless, refusing to let Butcher's malevolence take Taylor from her. She walked alongside the bed as Taylor was wheeled through the hall and into an operating theater.
Dr. Patel and another surgeon prepped Taylor in minutes although the time seemed to drag endlessly as Amy battled the festering wounds. When they had her chest cavity open, Amy pointed at the lower lobe of Taylor's left lung, which looked almost like a fruit rotting on the vine.
"I know this isn't normal procedure, but I need you to cut away all the black tissue. Don't worry about the bleeding, I've already redirected the blood flow away from the area. I keep trying to get it to regenerate, but I can't get past that damn rot."
The surgeon stared at Amy for a moment before muttering under his breath. Amy thought she heard the word insurance, but couldn't make the rest out. Without further hesitation however, the surgeon deftly sliced off a small part of the tissue, and gently removed it.
Amy breathed a sigh of relief as she was finally able to convince the rest of the tissue in the lung to heal, cell by cell. The effort left her trembling with exhaustion, but she didn't let up until she was certain the festering was gone and only healthy tissue remained.
"Stay with me, Taylor," Amy whispered, directing the lung tissues to expand and contract as they should. Then her attention moved on to the next arrow wound, and she continued her tag team fight with the doctors against the insidious power of the Butcher. Her hands moved from one area to the next, making sure that each injury was healed, using mass from Taylor's abundant amount of muscles.
Amy didn't stop, her focus now on the bleeding in Taylor's brain. This was delicate work, dangerous work. One wrong move, and Taylor could be lost.
As Amy repaired the damage, she felt a strange sensation—a presence, something vast and interconnected, threading through Taylor's very being. Amy's breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay focused.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Amy pulled back, her hands trembling with exhaustion. She looked up at the monitor—Taylor's vital signs were stabilizing. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for now.
"She's stable," Amy said, her voice hoarse. "But she's not out of the woods yet, but I think we can close all this up and give her a chance to get more blood into her and let things settle for a bit."
As Taylor was wheeled away toward the recovery room, Amy stood back for a moment, watching the doors swing shut behind the gurney. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but a new wave of exhaustion hit her. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to refocus.
