macgyvermedical: Ting! Spat! Ting-Ting! Spat! Ting! the guns chasing him may have been silenced, but the bullets smashing into the cement and metal walls were just as deadly as if they had fired at full volume. Mac kept running, Jack alongside, the canister in his hand. If they could just get through the next room to the main lab they would be safe. The lab was encased in bulletproof glass, glass that would hold for the fifteen minutes or so for a tactical team to catch up to their position.
Ting hsss! Mac felt the canister of nerve gas jerk in his hand and felt a thin spray hit his forearm as a cloud of visibly green gas escaped it. Thinking quickly, with no time to detail or argue his plan with Jack, he pulled the last few feet forward and locked himself behind the bulletproof door to the lab. "I'm exposed!" He shouted though the glass. Behind them, the gunmen pulled up hard and stopped shooting. They'd failed, and the room, technically, was contaminated. The area had to lock down. They wouldn't take the risk of being exposed themselves.
alliemackenzie28: Jack did his best to shield Mac and the canister from the spray of bullets sent towards them by the arms dealer's goons. Said arms dealer must train his goons well, because they were actually decent shots; Jack felt the wind from more than one bullet as it passed close to his head, and he was doing everything he could to get them out of there as quickly as possible. "Riley?" he called into mic. "How far away's that tac team?"
"I don't know," she said back, stress obvious in her voice. "Ten, fifteen minutes? They're stuck in traffic!"
Just as they got to the entryway to the lab, Mac ran ahead and shut himself in the room without Jack. Jack's first thought was, great, he locked me out here with the guys who want to kill us, but then he saw the leaking container. Klaxons blared and red lights flashed when sensors picked up the toxin. Locks on the doors on either side of Jack clanged shut, trapping him between Mac and the gunmen in his own little space. Both doors were bulletproof, which meant the gunmen couldn't get to him. It also meant he couldn't get to Mac.
macgyvermedical: Mac pulled a paper towel from above the sink and used it to cover his nose and mouth. It wouldn't help too much- the stuff was on his skin after all- but he wouldn't give it an easy way in to his body. He threw the canister under a fume hood and turned on the vent, watching the rest of the green fog dissipate in the air. He knew it was still there even if he couldn't see it. The room was well and truly contaminated, but at least the small amount that had escaped before he'd gotten it under the fume hood would dissipate to a concentration where it would be less toxic.
He ran over to the sink, and slathered his exposed arm with soap and rinsed it down the drain. That would get rid of most of the direct contamination. But he wouldn't be able to leave the room until a professional team got there to clear him. He went back to the door. Outside, the gunmen had retreated. Thank goodness for that. He hadn't wanted to trap Jack out there with the gunmen, but knew, being Jack, he stood a better chance of surviving armed assailants than he did an almost assured exposure to a highly toxic nerve agent. "Jack, call Matty." He ordered through the glass.
alliemackenzie28: Jack watched helplessly through the glass, gun still in hand, as Mac shoved the leaking canister into a machine that looked to Jack like some kind of space healing pod. The pod sucked up the gas as it sprayed out until finally it was gone. Mac was at the sink, scrubbing at his arm with soap. In the chopper they'd been dropped from, there were autoinjectors of medication for nerve gas exposure, but the chopper was long gone even if Jack could have gotten out of the foyer thing he was stuck in. He banged on the glass. "What the hell, Mac?" he shouted, angry in spite of the fact that he knew the kid had made the right decision.
Call Matty. Matty was both the last person Jack wanted to talk to and the first person he wanted on his side right now. He unclipped the clunky sat phone from his belt and dialed, flinching when she answered. "Hey, Matty! So me and Mac, good news, we got the gas! And uh… well, Mac got exposed and I'm trapped in this little room." Jack blurted the last sentence all at once and waited for Matty's wrath.
macgyvermedical: "Jack, prefacing something with 'good news' has really started having the opposite effect I hope you're intending." Matty said without responding to Jack's pleasantries, even as her face visibly fell. "But before you get into whatever amazing story you have for why this is a conversation we're actually having, what is MacGyver's status?" She covered the phone's mic as she looked over to her assistant. "Get me an update on the tac team." She ordered.
Mac tried to breathe as little as possible, knowing the effort was futile. Even a tiny drop of the nerve gas could be extremely dangerous. He wasn't feeling the effects yet, which meant he'd probably been successful in keeping a lethal amount out of his lungs, but a lot of it had made it onto his skin. He just hoped he'd gotten enough off of him in time.
And, he hoped, that whatever was left in the air wouldn't settle on something he would accidentally touch. Actually, that wouldn't be difficult to mitigate. Most types of nerve gas could be deactivated by a strong alkaline, traditionally sodium hypochlorite. He was in a lab. There had to be something he could use. He found exactly what he was looking for in a janitorial closet. He dumped the contents of a windex bottle into the sink and rinsed it, then filled it with bleach. Paper towel still over his nose and mouth, he began spraying the air around the entrance to the lab, as well as coating the nearby workbenches, chairs, and floor. It smelled vile and so strong he felt like his skin might rip off if he made contact with it, but it was almost a reassuring experience.
alliemackenzie28: "Oh. Well. He seems fine right now, actually," spluttered Jack. He looked in through the window and watched as Mac popped triumphantly out of a closet and started mixing ingredients in a spray bottle. "He's spraying something… I don't know what he's doing, but he looks ok to me. Definitely got exposed, though."
A glance through the other window revealed that the baddies were nowhere to be seen; they must have fled the scene when the nerve gas started spraying everywhere, Jack reasoned. Smart guys, those goons.
Jack's next objective was to figure out how to get through the door that separated him and Mac in case Mac needed help. A closer inspection revealed that the hinges were on his side, so if he could find a way to tap the pins out, he might be able to simply lift the door out of its frame. Maybe there was some kind of a release on the other side and he could talk Mac into opening it.
macgyvermedical:"Glad to hear you're such a medical expert now, Jack." Matty said as her assistant threw a satellite image up on the screen of the tac van stuck in traffic, its lights doing absolutely nothing for the crowd of people and cars sandwiched around it. Sometimes she hated LA. She glared at it. "Why don't you find out what he's spraying, maybe?" She said pointedly. Not in any kind of 'maybe' way, at least.
alliemackenzie28:"Oh, well, I mean, all I'm sayin' is he's not showing symptoms yet. I- Yes. Yes ma'am, I will." He hung up with a sigh. He still couldn't figure out whether she turned him on or terrified him. Maybe a little of both. Hanging up the phone, he turned to the door and banged on the glass. "Mac! What- are- you- spraying?" he shouted, miming his words while he spoke.
macgyvermedical: "Its bleach." Mac explained. His eyes were watering from the smell. "It'll deactivate some of the remaining nerve gas, decrease the chance that any more will get in me."
alliemackenzie28: "Ok," said Jack. Another of Mac's random pieces of knowledge coming in handy wasn't surprising in the least. "Are you ok?"
macgyvermedical: "Maybe." Mac said. He put the bottle down and leaned back against the nearest lab table. "It got on my skin. I got most of it off, I think, but it doesn't really take a lot to cause problems. Probably pretty likely I'm going to need an antidote, and depending on what kind of nerve agent it is, I'm going to need it sooner rather than later." the lab wasn't designed for studying nerve agents, so a Mark I kit or DuoDote pen wasn't going to naturally be a part of the landscape. The tac team might have something, if they got there in time. Given that they didn't have the stats on this particular agent, all he could hope is it was one that would respond to an antidote even hours after exposure.
alliemackenzie28: "Can you make an antidote?" Jack knew it probably wasn't possible, but 'impossible' didn't mean the same thing to Mac as it did to the rest of the world, so it was always worth asking. He inventoried what he had on him, knowing he'd have to find his own way into the lab if Mac needed his help. He had his cell, the sat phone, a pen and notebook, his Ka-bar, a stick of gum, his gun and two extra clips, and one of Mac's bent paperclips. The tiny space he was in was totally empty.
macgyvermedical: Mac looked around the room. He worked on the fringes of safety on the best of days, but actually creating a viable antidote in a lab wasn't something he felt comfortable doing. "Probably not without killing myself." He said. He coughed, trying to clear his throat. He couldn't tell if it was a placebo or if he was already feeling the beginning effects of the verve agent. Clearly he hadn't gotten all of it off, because his arm was slick with sweat where the agent had touched his skin.
alliemackenzie28: "Well don't do that!" Jack joked, but it fell flat. He took another look at the contents of his pockets laid out on the floor, decided on a plan, and unloaded and started disassembling his gun. "I'm gonna use the recoil guide to tap the pins out of the door. I'll need your help to bend the deadbolt far enough that we can slide it the rest of the way out." Starting from the bottom, he carefully lined up the guide and hammered it upwards with the butt of his gun. Slowly, the pins each loosened and came free. "Ok, push on the hinge side of the door. I'll slide my gun in when there's room."
macgyvermedical: "Jack, I'm not, like, trapped in here or anything. I just locked it from the inside." Mac said, ciringing. He knew that probably hadn't been a particularly popular choice where Jack was concerned, so he tried to explain. "I sorta-kinda deconned this little corner of the lab, but, its a massive room, dude. Figured since I was already exposed I might as well lock myself in here and not spread it around. We open that door before the hazmat team gets here and you'll be exposed too."
alliemackenzie28: Jack stared through the thick glass at Mac. "Seriously? Mac, what the hell? You're gonna need help in there! There's no like," he waved his hands at the ceiling of the lab, "ventilation system to flush everything out?"
macgyvermedical: "There is in the fume hoods, I guess, but its still not safe, Jack. And if I do need help, I need you to be in good enough shape to help me. Until then, we wait for the hazmat team." Mac argued. "Here, I'll even unlock it, as long as we have an understanding that you only open the door if I'm not breathing."
alliemackenzie28: Jack's first reaction was to protest, but he knew Mac was right. Having the door unlocked made him feel less helpless- like he wasn't about to watch Mac die in front of him without being able to do anything to help him. "Fine. Tac team's ten minutes out. Are you really feeling ok?"
macgyvermedical: As if on cue, Mac coughed again, this time bringing up some of the mucous that seemed to have quickly gathered in his throat. He panicked for a second as the coughing subsided and he spit in the sink. He was having trouble drawing a deep breath. The sweat was spreading up his arm from the site where he'd been exposed, and the tiny muscles in the skin near his hand twitched. "Not really." He said. "I don't think I breathed it, but, I didn't get nearly enough of it off, Jack."
alliemackenzie28: "Well can you get more of it off? It's just soap and water, right?" Jack found himself breathing with Mac, trying to breathe for him, but he couldn't keep it up; how could Mac? He knew he couldn't go in yet- Mac would try to hold the door shut. He had to make himself wait.
macgyvermedical: "I got what was left on my skin off, but some of it had already absorbed." Mac amended. Taking a moment to breathe. His stomach twisted, the chemical finally hitting his gut, and combined with the feeling that there was something heavy on his chest that he couldn't lift off, the idea of vomiting felt like it would be really unpleasant. Ten minutes, huh? Felt like it had already been a lot longer. He sunk to a sitting position next to the door and leaned against it, inviting Jack to sit with him. His mouth was slightly open, but he had to keep closing it to swallow spit or cough up mucous. He'd be able to stand it a while longer, he decided, as long as he kept calm.
alliemackenzie28: Jack crouched down next to Mac and looked at his watch again. "Riley? Update?"
"Ten minutes, Jack, same as the last time you asked."
"Ok, ok, just… can't you hack the stoplights or something?"
"I'm already trying, but that might take the whole ten minutes!"
Jack watched Mac, sweaty and struggling to breathe and swallow, and he couldn't take it anymore. "Ok, that's it," he said as he stood. He turned the door handle and pulled, feeling a whoosh of air from the lab.
macgyvermedical: "Jack!" Mac said as the door opened next to him, but he didn't have the chance to prevent Jack coming into the room. Mac was livid. "Turn around…" Mac started, swallowing. "We are both… going to die… if you stay-" Mac coughed until he ran out of breath and was only able to gasp for several seconds. Spots flickered in front of his vision and he was very glad he was already on the ground.
alliemackenzie28: Jack crouched next to Mac and held his shoulder while he coughed. He started to ask if he was ok, decided that was the wrong question for the situation, and settled for, "I gotcha." When Mac finally caught his breath, Jack sat down next to him. "What can I do?"
macgyvermedical: Mac wanted to say something like "you can get the hell out of here is what you can do!" But if Jack was already exposed, Jack was already exposed. "Go… go wash your hands." Mac instructed. "Don't touch anything else and stay in… this corner of the room."
alliemackenzie28: Jack washed his hands thoroughly and then walked back over to Mac with a wad of soapy paper towels. "Gimme your arm. Might still be some on you."
macgyvermedical: Mac didn't argue that fact. Tbh he'd been going fast and it was fairly likely he'd missed a spot. A spot that could kill him… his eyes watered and his stomach began to cramp and gurgle. "How long until help gets here?" He asked.
alliemackenzie28: Jack flicked open his knife and cut up the seams of Mac's pants and shirt. A bucket sat on the counter by the sink, and he filled it with water, sloshing some on the floor in his haste. He scrubbed every inch of exposed skin till it shone pink, then rinsed mac with bucket after bucket of water.
Halfway through, he realized he'd forgotten to put on gloves, but he figured there probably wasn't enough left to make him sick, and even if there was, it was well diluted by now. Dilution is the solution to polution, right?
macgyvermedical: "Jack, I-" Mac protested as Jack cut off his clothing, but then cooperated, helping Jack scrub him down. It was getting harder and harder to breathe now, and he found himself putting a lot of conscious effort into not panicking. The nausea that had cropped up too wasn't helping. He pushed himself up a little more against the glass, wheezing. He was in pain from the cramping, but not enough to justify the tears rolling down his face. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and looked pleadingly at the entrance to the basement where, presumably, the hazmat team would arrive with an antidote.
alliemackenzie28: Jack could hear Mac's rough breathing, and tried not to jostle him or lean him back or do anything to make it more difficult. Mac seemed restless. "You're gonna be ok, ok? They'll be here in like five minutes." He hoped.
When he finished scrubbing and rinsing, he crouched next to Mac, hands everywhere, wanting to do something, anything, to help, but at the same thing knowing there was nothing he could do but wait. Frustration didn't even begin to describe it.
macgyvermedical: "Relax.. Jack." Mac gasped. "Just… be ready to warn… the team… when they get here." He continued. "Tell them what… happened." He coughed as hard as he could, trying to prevent the excess saliva from spraying everywhere. It felt like there was no where for the air he pulled in to go, that it was just getting stuck in his throat.
alliemackenzie28: "Mac, don't talk. Save your breath." Jack wiped spit off of Mac's chin. "I know, buddy, I know. I'll tell 'em. Just spit it out." He felt helpless, but knew he couldn't do anything.
"Three minutes," Riley updated, and Jack relayed the time to Mac.
macgyvermedical: Three minutes. That was okay. He could make it three minutes. Just… damn all of a sudden he was so tired. It was becoming painful to draw breath. His vision was fading. Three minutes… he could make it…
alliemackenzie28: Jack had been cursing at his watch when Mac's eyes closed, but he saw him falling and caught him before he hit the ground. "Mac?" He shook Mac gently, mentally begging for any response.
"Hazmat's about to pull into the parking lot," said Riley in his ear.
Jack rolled Mac onto his side and cradled his head so that the excess saliva ran out of his mouth and pooled on the floor. For a while, here was only the sound of Mac's wet-sounding breathing.
"Come on, come on, come on," Jack repeated, both to Mac and to the Hazmat team. Finally, when Jack was nearly in tears from the fear and frustration, the group of orange-suited hazardous materials handlers burst through the door in a jumble of color and sound.
macgyvermedical (taking over for the rest of the story): Dave had been on the LA hazmat team for several decades, and had quickly come to be severely annoyed by the Phoenix Foundation. If they hadn't caused the spill or contamination, they still had agents involved. So it wasn't particularly shocking to him that MacGyver, an agent he'd seen more than once in such a situation, had been exposed. The unknown nerve agent part was new and scary for the organization, but it wasn't something totally unexpected. LA was a major metropolitan city. Bioterrorists liked that about a place.
Anyway. He arrived with an antidote kit, signaling his arrival to a man sitting over the barely clothed and apparently unconscious MacGyver.
"David Hersch." He said roughly to Jack. "LA HazMat. Matty briefed me on the situation." He cringed, remembering the short but intense phone conversation he'd had with the Phoenix Foundation director. He missed Patty some days. That being said, he was still getting over Pete. Fully suited, he knelt in front of Mac. Airway had narrowed and his breaths were shallow with audible wheezing and stridor. He was fighting hard, Dave could tell, but he was losing the fight. A grey-blue tinge ringed his mouth and the tips of his fingers. His skin was wet with perspiration. He made no move as Dave dug his knuckles into the man's chest. His pupils were pinpoints. It was classic organophosphate poisoning.
"Jack, there's a decontamination shower outside, Johnson will show you where." He said, gesturing to a fellow orange-clad teammate as he unzipped the medical kit he'd dragged in. "And Dyle, bring me a nerve agent kit." Despite Dave having only become an EMT a few years previously, he had no idea how he'd functioned on the team so long without the certification.
Jack looked reluctant to leave, lagging behind, worried, as Johnson tried to direct him out of the room. "We'll take good care of him, Jack." He assured the agent, hoping it would get him to the decon area sooner than later. This could easily come to the already naked Mac vomiting or them having to do a lot of things he'd rather Jack not see. And if Jack was himself contaminated, which was likely, they needed to minimize his exposure so they weren't running up against the same problems with him.
Even with that situation far from handled, with Dyle bringing the antidote kit, Mac's breathing was his top priority. He rolled Mac onto his back and sunk an oral airway, pulling Mac's tongue forward and making a wider space for air to pass. He suctioned saliva out from around it. It wouldn't do all that much good, but it might keep him from aspirating or get a little more air into him. What he really needed was a tube, but that would have to wait until he was deconned and the paramedics could attend to him. He didn't really have time for a full set of vitals at the moment, but he attached a pulse ox clip to Mac's ear to figure out what he was working from. 73%. Well crap. He was working from crap is what.
He bagged Mac in time with the agent's own weak attempts at breath as someone else cut the rest of his clothes off and began scrubbing him down with a neutralizing wash. It felt like he was bagging against a wall, but the little air going into Mac was almost all oxygen. He watched the oximeter jump up a few points as Dyle dropped next to him with the kit.
"Administer that as soon as you're ready. Then tell the medics to meet us at the door." Fortunately, there wasn't a lot of setup required and training on them was standard even though nerve agents poisonings weren't often occurrences. Dyle opened the case and pulled the safety cap off the auto injector.
"DuoDote pen. 2 of atropine, 600 pralidoxime." He confirmed with Hersch before pressing it hard against Mac's leg. He felt the spring-loaded needle discharge under his hand and waited a few seconds before pulling it back. He taped it to Mac's bare chest and radioed a location for the medics to meet them.