It is currently 1973, the Vietnam War, and Captain Jonathan is a famous US pilot. With his trusty UH-1 helicopter, 'The Medic On Wings', he is capable of flying, solo, through heavy fire to rescue those who need it most. However, during a transport...
WARNING! This chapter has depictions of rape and torture, if you are unable to handle such depictions, it is advised you skip this chapter.
Ash POV
The team asked me to check up on Jonathan to see how his recovery was going, but for some reason as I walked down the hall towards the room, I couldn't help but feel a gut feeling, telling me to be on guard. Pushing open the door to his room, I was met with a surprising scene. The curtains had been pulled back, revealing a restrained Jonathan in the gurney, twisting and thrashing. 'What the fuck?!' "Don't approach him, he's been like that for the past few hours."
I twisted around to see a nurse patching up a member of the security team, a nasty bruise on his head. "What happened?!" "Well you see, Mr. Flesh-Bag was found sobbing uncontrollably at around oh-three-hundred hours, and when one of the nurses tried to figure out what exactly what was going on, he lashed out. Security came in but he screamed something about 'Not happening again' and tried to beat up security. Brief scuffle, he was restrained and he's been having a fit up until now."
I looked at Jonathan in curiosity, his thrashing seemed to have calmed down, and now he was simply staring up at the ceiling, his red, puffy eyes were clear indications that he'd been crying for some time, but his eyes didn't seem to hold any emotion anymore, they were simply...empty. He was still alive, his chest was still rising and falling, but other than that he simply didn't move. Not even a twitch. 'Like a statue.'
The nurse led the security guard out of the room, and the door quietly closed, leaving me and Jonathan alone in the room. "Jonathan?" I softly called out, hoping to get some kind of response, even a slight twitch. Nothing. "Jonathan." His ear twitched, and he slowly turned his head until finally making eye contact. "Ash." He simply acknowledged I was there, not bothering to continue. "Jonathan what happened last night?"
He seemed to think for a few moments, finally sniffling. "T-The people in my head, they haunt me, in t-the dark corners of the r-room. T-They're w-watching." He was starting to tear up, before curling up into a ball, muffled crying coming from his shivering frame. "His mental state is shutting down, he needs medication." I whipped around to see a cat wearing an odd contraption on her head, the General standing behind her.
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"General." I quickly saluted, and he nodded. "At ease soldier." I brought my hand down and eyed the fox. "Who's this?" "This is Doctor Neon, she's one of the nation's leading psychiatrists and scientists. She's developed this device that can scan the mind of a patient, human or anthro, and determine their status."
"From what I understand, it can determine mental illnesses and conditions, find special information, for example the code to a time bomb, and potentially, read minds." I internally scoffed, as if. "Sure." She peered at me. "Your doubt is well-disguised, but I'm glad to see your team cares for your teammate, even if they're a human."
I felt my eyes widen, realizing she was legit. "Yep, it works!" She continued cheerfully. "On the other hand, your teammate is in a much more comatose state." She stepped forward to the gurney, seemingly inspecting his head, or mind more likely. "A-Are you h-here to h-hurt me?" "Of course not sweetheart, I'm a doctor, I'm just here to see how you're doing." "O-Okay." She smiled and pulled out a small prescription bottle from her coat pocket.
