(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the late update, had some problems getting online last night. Of course, that gives me the perfect opportunity to tell you all to go watch RvB Season 11 Episode 3. Seriously, if you haven't seen it yet, get your ass in gear!

As before, the applications for Phase Two will be shutting down shortly. Please, take this as a warning. Get your applications in if you're interested, don't leave it to the last minute!

Enjoy!


Chapter Fifty-Eight - Listen Up, Kids

Killian Jay – Private First Class, Medic

Written by Casaric


"When a man goes through six years medical training to be a doctor he will never be the same. He knows too much." - Enid Bagnold.


Crack!

"Fuck! Do you know what you're doing?" a petulant voice asked, strained due to the speaker's obvious pain.

"This would be so much easier if you stopped fucking moving!" A different voice, the speaker coming to the end of his patience with the first voice, sighing heavily as he finished his sentence.

"I'm not!"

"Yes, yes you are. See! Right there, you just moved your arm!" Outright indignation.

"How can I? You're the one grabbing it!"

"Look, just let me..."

Crack!

"Son of a-!" the first voice began, catching himself just in time.

"See? All better. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Sarcastic and mildly sadistic pleasure was laced throughout the comment.

Killian stood back from the newly inducted freelancer agent to examine his work. Agent Arkansas had managed to dislocate his arm while fighting with Carolina, and it was his job to fix him up. He never really was the best at realigning bones. However, despite a few minor setbacks, he did manage to get the bones back where they should be. Few in this case, meaning many, minor meaning painful, and setbacks meaning complete and utter failures.

Killian smiled. The bone was finally where it should be.

"Try moving it."

The Freelancer nodded and began rotating his arm in a three-hundred-sixty degree motion. A lack of popping sounds or loud grinding noises made Killian sigh in relief. One down, two to go.

The medic turned to glance at the other two Freelancers lying down on operating tables adjacent to Arkansas's. "I watched your fights. For as new as you all are, you did pretty well. I might even be impressed if you all didn't get hospitalized."

All three agents turned to glare at the medic.

"Just trying to make conversation." Killian said in reply, beginning to inspect California's wounds.

"We're not here to impress you, medic." California muttered.

"...hmm. The training knives didn't lacerate your skin and muscle tissues so much as it bruised it. A few minor cuts, but those are negligible...," Killian mumbled to himself before returning to the conversation.

"First of all, Medic, Private First Class. And yeah, you're not. I'm just the guy who makes sure you don't end up bleeding-out on the battlefield." A shiver racked its way down Killian's spine as he was reminded of how close a call it was with Massa...

"Right." Lack of interest was all too apparent in California's tone. He didn't approve.

Killian sighed. "Wrong. If you have good relations with someone, then they're more likely to help you out in a pinch."

"...You're a doctor. It's your-" South began to point out.

"It's my job. Yeah. That doesn't mean I don't get pissed off and make 'mistakes' when people like you get dragged in here, bleeding all over the place and making me work extra hours. The less of you I see in here, the happier both parties involved will be."

The freelancers didn't bother to respond, waiting for the medic to continue with his work.

"And look, you're new...," Killian continued, pulling out a syringe and filling it with a florescent red substance. "So I guess I can give you some advice, just to get you into the mindset of how things work here." He then proceeded to inject the chemical into California, the heavy bruising and scarring healing back to a healthy state.

"And that would be...?" Arkansas asked from his table, his voice containing an almost unnoticeable trace of genuine interest, but Killian was good at picking up on such things,.

Killian repeated the process on South, watching as the bruising caused by the paintball rounds faded away. "First of all, don't bother me. And if you do bother me, you better be damn near dead. Second, those agents you fought have been trained to kill people like you. Unless you want to end up in here again, don't fuck with them. Third, the board means everything. Ranking means everything. If your rank sucks, well, you suck. Any questions?"

"..." The three freelancers in the room just stared at him.

"Okay then, moving on. Alaska's crazy and Penn has penchant for excess amount of violence. I try not to spend too much time with either of them. You can count on York to bring something that will boost morale, be it alcohol or otherwise. You can count on Virginia to have your back in a firefight, and Massa will be there to patch you up if you happen to get shot. Florida's nice and is a helluva a shot with a grenade launcher. Wyoming tells bad jokes and can surgically remove your head from your shoulders from up to a mile away. Carolina is at the top of the board, and isn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon. She is, arguably, the best agent here and responds to bullshit with bullets."

The freelancers, at this point, had actually started leaning in a little closer.

"Questions? Comments? Concerns? No? Well then, in that case," Killian apparently had no intent on continuing any further than he already had. "Enjoy your stay in the Recovery-Wing."

The medic left the Freelancers without another word, and the trio was left to soak in his 'advice'.