Summary:Hank's ongoing mission to de-fur - stage II serum, live trial! Of course, nothing could possibly go awry Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It is some few days since the Beast and Jemma's last work with the final serum, formulation 2.23 was tested on some blood samples. Also since Jeriah risked getting himself punched in the face for his remote control antics. The F2223 serum showed promising results, no signs of gender-flipping, nothing beyond what was intended, of course it was only tested on blood - the rest of the body is a complex engine, a very large scale and interconnected complexity.
Hank smiles over to Catseye. "About ready to bring the new holo-emitters online, would you be so kind as to monitor the tensor field strength? It seemed a bit…tetchety this afternoon, and I haven't had a chance to tinker."
Once the appointed time arrives, he initiates the secure satellite uplink to Jemma's lab. "EMJ connecting, feed strength looks good…"
Jemma's had some interesting times over the last few days but she's ready to give Hank the support that he needs. The EMJ comes online and Jemma appears … not in Starfleet Medical attire, this time.
"This is your Emergency Medical Jemma, please state the nature of the medical emergency." She says with a smile. "Hello Catseye, Hank. How are we this fine day?" Neither of them will miss how tired she looks.
Catseye tsks and pulls up the tensor field strength, and hmmms, "Will monitor. Also setting the field restraints used in testing back, yes? Should prevent accidental breakage, limits not normally would come into effect unless DoctorJemma starts punching things so should not impede." But if the field strength is spiking, the restraints used in testing will prevent damage from resulting. She gives Jemma a friendly wave of her tail. "Have engineering problem to tackle after this. And not thrilled about DoctorHank trying again. Think cultured tissue tests needed, even if will take another month or more to grow large enough tissues samples." But Catseye is horribly conservative when it comes to bioscience. You can't swap out damaged body parts the way you do burnt out circuit boards.
"Jemma, you look exhausted." Hank asks as the hologram forms and she makes the absolutely apropos entry line. "I am doing well, thanks. Perhaps a bit nervous but the testing and modeling has continued to pan out." He looks to Cat. "With one objection noted, are we ready to proceed?"
Hank's dressed a little differently than last time, THIS time he's wearing an outfit made of some sort of stretchy polymer, it has short sleeves and legs, but covers from the neck down otherwise.
Because flashing everyone last time might have been a bit embarrassing for him. Ahem.
Moving over to the exam table, he prepares the serum - handing it to Jemma, and hands Cat the ampule and injector with the antagonist. Hopping up, he lays back and waits to be belted down. Once secure, he smiles. "Ready to begin when you are."
He's already got all the sensory gear in the lab setup to run, scan and record.
Jemma puts a holographic hand on Catseyes shoulder and squeezes gently. "We have considered that Catseye and the issue is that nature isn't stable. We've done culture testing but now we need to see how they work in the wild, so to speak."
Jemma's concerned, of course she is, but there's a balance to reach and they think they've found it.
"I am, Hank. Something happened over here. Have either of you heard anything about werewolves running New York?" That's an interesting question.
As Hank lays back, Jemma gestures to Catseye, letting the feline do what she must to set her mind somewhat at ease. While that's happening, Jemma checks the equipment and readings. "I'm ready."
When Catseye indicates she's done with the strapping down, Jemma takes a breath and injects the serum.
Catseye does not like strapping Hank down. She does it, but her tail is bristling at the necessity. "No, nothing about werewolves." She has a couple of friends that might be mistaken for a werewolf in bad lighting, but they don't run together, nor are they running New York. Heck, they're even careful about running around New York, since that can get you shot. She lets Jemma handle the injection, and keeps her eyes on Hank's vitals. If things start to go bad, she has to inject him before they go TOO bad, but not so early that Hank will be angry that she chickened out too soon.
So… no pressure.
"The systems involved are too complex, the only fairly certain model would be a full clone of me." And yeah, Hank is NOT cool with that idea. At all.
And then Jemma tangents about…two-hundred something degrees. "Werewolves? No, can't say as I do, and you know the closest equivalent to a wereworlf that I do, Jemma." A pause. "I do know a were-tigress, however."
Okay…wait. What?
Once he's strapped down, Hank smiles up to Cat, and will hold one of her hands before the injection, giving it a squeeze and then releasing before the shot is administered.
This change…is…different. It goes more slowly than the prior one and FAR more slowly than the reversion to furry did, like…LOTS slower. First…he sheds…a LOT. In fact…when the process stops it seems pretty plain that there's NO hair. None. Anywhere.
Hank's shine takes on a shiny sheen, and he grunts with the discomfort, his bio-signs and scent registering some fairly intense pain, but…within projections. The skin starts to lose the shine, and with it the blue starts to leech out, fading, fading…until he's blue-grey, and then stopping. Which is the first sign something's amiss! He clenches his teeth as his SKULL starts to enlarge, only a bit, but…noticeably. His claws are simply shed, and over all his body slims, though the shoulders widen.
And then his voice, to Jemma. "Well…that was interesting, Doctor Simmons." The voice? A little…distant. "Sharon, be so kind as to unfasten my restraints, if you please."
"Cloning … isn't something that an ethical scientist would recommend, either." Jemma agrees, watching the displays as Hanks changes start to take effect. "You're experiencing significant pain, aren't you?" She glances down as the man starts to shed.
Promising? It is, really. That's what he wanted to achieve.
"You know a weretigress? That's interesting but I'm really asking if either of you have seen anything resembling Loup Garou running around New York lately. We … might have problem there."
Not that she gets to explain further as the next wave of pain causes Hank to grunt.
"Hank?" The man himself might be bald … all over (Jemma's not confirming that) … but it looks like another Hank on the floor beneath him, with all that hair.
"Hank?" She turns her attention to him fully at that tone. "Interesting … is one to describe it. Why don't you tell me how you feel?"
She nods to Sharon to undo restraints.
Catseye's nostrils flare as she undoes the restraints. "Interesting, yes. Full blood panel?" Once Hank is sitting up, she fetches the equipment needed.
One thing is definitely unchanged - Hank is /fastidious/.
"Of course, full blood panels, we'll need to take biopsy samples form my major organs, and samples of my cerebral spinal fluid." A nod. "AFTER I get changed and out of this fur-filthed out." Okay, that is like Hank, and /not/ like Hank, the procedures he lists are sure to be thorough, and more than a tad invasive, probably painful and way more than he wanted to do last time.
Once freed, he hops down. "I will not be long, Sharon, Doctor."
And heads for the restroom that Quinn missed some weeks ago. He's only gone a few minutes, but that gives Cat and Jemma time to speak in some measure of privacy.
"I don't think we need to go to such lengths, Hank." Jemma says slowly, good eye holding Sharons for a moment. A miniscule shake of her holographic head says to not say anything just yet. "Full blood panel of course. And *maybe* a cerebral tap. But nothing more."
With Hank disappearing so unceremoniously, Jemma chews on her lip in thought. "That doesn't seem a lot like Hank, does it? Well, it is but isn't. What are your senses telling you right now, Catseye?"
Catseye keeps her voice calm. "Cannot be sure from scent alone, yes? but betting testosterone, estrogen, and Adrenal levels are low to non existant. Last one particularly worrying, as may negate the heightened strength capable of when in danger, inhibit instinctive response to threats."
Jemma's reluctance gives him pause. "Pain is transitory, SCIENCE! is eternal." And then he goes into the restroom to get cleaned up. When he returns he looks much more comfortable, and is wearing a lab coat over the stretchy stuff, but also shoes, something he usually reserves for when out in public.
Cat's senses are keen enough that yes - all gender specific scents are…just lacking.
"So…we should get to the samples taking, I suppose we can skip some of the biopsies, but we need to get samples of my brain tissue, pituitary and adrenal glands. Pivotal."
Gone is the loving caress of each syllable he utters, instead there is crisp precision, and this man has yet to smile.
Once.
"Hmmmm. Well the blood test will bear that out but judging by the physical changes I think you might be right. Reduced strength is a concern, but lacking estrogen and testosterone are equally troubling. That might indicate an inability to regulate emotion. Among other things."
Jemma watches the bathroom for Hank to return, her cybernetic switching to Red then Blue, Infrared to X-Ray, as she scans him.
"Blood test first. I'm not taking samples of those tissues. They're not needed at this point and the processes are incredibly evasive." The biochem states firmly. "Let Catseye get the blood draw and we'll do a work up though. How are you … feeling, Hank?"
Feeling. She used that word deliberately.
Catseye takes the blood sample easily, at least the fact that Hank has good veins hasn't changed. She notices that he didn't mention getting a sample of prostate tissue… truth be told, she isn't sure he has one anymore. "Importance of Testosterone and Estrogen exaggerated in many respects. Though might be biased, given number of people that say must be something wrong with hormone levels because Catseye has no interest in sex." She fills three large vials with blood as she talks. "Can hold off on biopsies until after bloodwork is run. Better to know what are looking for, yes? Target the samples, rather than random. And perhaps MRI scan first. Less invasive, and shows data biopsy cannot. Better to know if adrenal gland has atrophied before trying to poke it with needle, yes?"
"My strength is likely diminished to about five tons, perhaps six max. My agility somewhat impacted if my visualization of the variables is accurate. As to my testosterone and estrogen, not needful. At the moment I am free of gender."
And yes, he phrases it that way quite…blandly, much as he might ask you to pass the salt at the dinner table.
A faint frown, but then he nods slowly. "Very well, we'll proceed with the less complete, but less invasive tests, you do both raise some good points."
Jemma's question leaves him a little…blank. "Feel? I feel healthy, and acute. In fact I am certain that my mind is greatly expanded in scope and power, I can already see where some of this formulation went wrong - for example, in slightly less than forty-eight hours it will destabilize and without prompt administration of the antagonist there's approximately a fifty-four percent chance of mortality."
And that doesn't even merit a shrug. "Which means, of course, there's little time to waste."
"You can't possibly know how much your strength is affected by." Jemma says slowly, assessing the man so very carefully. "That it's decreased, I don't doubt you can tell by how much though?" She doesn't believe it. She won't argue about the use of the hormones - endocrine studies haven't come to any real result on that, except - they're needful.
"A MRI is a good idea, Catseye. If you don't have one here, Hank can come to the Triskelion - you too - and I'll use the facilities there. My X-Ray vision shows that the sexual organs have decreased in size and his brain has increased by about twenty percent. Any more than that, I'm unable to tell. "
Which is then borne out by his next assessment.
"If that' the case, lets get to it. I think we should administer the antagnostic sooner than later."
Catseye nods, "Have an MRI machine, yes. DoctorHank?" She gestures to the machine, then runs the security protocol for the MRI machine, and clears anything the lab lights up in red to behind the line that has appeared on the floor. Minor items, a ballpoint pen, a scrap of foil, but no metal near the MRI is -necessary- for safety. She herself will be well behind the glowing line while the MRI machine is running.
Hank quirks a hairless brow, which is odd looking. "Well, not precisely, but I can feel the decreased muscle mass, and the slightly lighter bone structure, it is a simple matter of extrapolation based on those variables. Can I /know/? Not precisely, but I can make a fair estimate."
Yes, he's a little vexed at being questioned.
And yes, hormone imbalances are very bad things, 'luckily' this one won't be around long enough to do irreparable damage.
"Once I fix my bumbling base-line self's efforts with this serum, yes, we can administer the antagonist, though it would be wise perhaps to make use of my far greater brain capacity, I estimate a day would be more than sufficient to finish up a number of projects."
Hank does move where the mini-MRI is, and is ready and even eager to see what it shows."Yes, Sharon."
And still no smile.
"You can estimate, yes." Jemma answers quietly, frowning at the testy response. This is why she's concerned about the hormone imbalances. Not only has Hanks body undergone a horrific change, his system is likely going into withdrawal - which causes all sorts of emotional responses.
"I'm not comfortable with a day, Hank. This change has had more far reaching effects than the last." At least with Hettie it was *more or less* Hank and not this cold, calculating being.
"Let's get you in there and see what the results show. The blood test results are …" she looks over her shoulder as she helps the other scientist into the MRI machine. "… ready."
Catseye does some quick images of the adrenal gland, or where the gland should be on top of the kidneys, then starts the longer scan of the brain, "Adrenal gland has shrunk in size… moving to brain scan… cerebellum slightly enlarged… pineal gland impaired… Temporal lobe is larger, but… not uniformly so. Same for frontal lobe… limbic cortex seems to have shrunk slightly… amygdala also shows impairment, but Wernicke's area is enhanced, as is visual and auditory cortex… hypothalamus also reduced, but PFC is greatly increased not just in size but in the number of connections…." So Hank's intelligence is enhanced, but his emotions and his judgement is likely to be impaired. And he may not realize his judgement is impaired, that's common with injuries to the limbic cortex, though… this kind of change isn't an injury, it's rather unprecedented.
"Then…a few hours, I /have/ to at least fix my incompetent attempts at this serum to date. Six hours, tops, and then we administer the antagonist? At the present rate of progression the series three serum will likely kill me." He listens to the impairments and /is/ smart enough to extrapolate the effects.
And he doesn't care.
"Six hours, then the antagonist." He's quite firm on this, though there's a faint frown. "I concede, my judgement…/may/ be impaired, but…" His eyes are wide with wonder, the pupils merely pin pricks. "…if only you could /feel/ the power of this brain, ladies. It is… exhilarating. I KNOW I can do /anything/."
Under other circumstances, Jemma would debate how judgement was impaired. It's not uncommon for intelligent people to not have compassion - to be cold and calculating. That's what she's seeing with Hank and she doesn't like it.
"Six hours. Then we'll inject you. And …" The biochem turns to the other scientist as he emerges from the machine "You won't work on other projects, just this one."
She sighs at the last comment and wants to ask if Hanks met her friend from the Academy. "I won't deny that your problem solving ability is increased." That's all she'll allow. The ability to tie the actions to consequence? Or to consider the 'human' factor? She's not so sure.
Catseye quickly, before she turns off the MRI for Hank to get out, save his most recent research data backup to a different server and encrypts it with her own key. She wants to make sure she has a 'before' to compare to whatever this-hank comes up with for After. "Scans are done. Pulling up files on serum now." By the time he reaches the Terminal, all of Hank's work on restoring himself will be laid out before him.
"May have trouble regulating body temperature. Will get a sweater, food and coffee, yes? And assist with anything else that might pull DoctorHank away from research." And be ready to shoot him with the antagonist if he so much as twitches wrong. Catseye is not one for taking chances with her friends.
"But…there's so many others, for example, Jeriah's sonic weapons - if you rewire it with carbon nano-tubes with reverbium cores? There would be an incredible boost in their power output…" And then Hank falls silent, eyes studying his colleague, because…yeah…Greylien Hank is /not/ one who has friends. Colleague is as close as it gets. A sigh. "Dozens of other ideas, but very well. Six hours, one project only."
He is only too happy to get to work, and in truth his vastly spicier brain meats are a little scary as he works on three terminals at once. He's actually overflowing the keyboard buffers and switches to a holographic interface and non-physical keyboards, he usurps a big chunk of the Danger Room's processors to help model what he's building…Hank was always smart. THIS thing, is…something else altogether.
"Not coffee, Catseye. The caffeine will impede circulation. Warm water or milk perhaps." Jemma suggests, still quiet. "And I don't think you should even suggest that to Jeriah." The biochem can only imagine the sideeye she'll get for that.
"You have my number, Catseye, just in case." The british born biochem gives Hank one last look. "I must go and check on my other patient. Is there anything else?"
Catseye considers, running variables in her head. "Mint and bergamont tea then. Will keep an eye on things here." Honey in the tea, and a little marshmallow root. She gets hank an oversized sweater, fixes him tea and snacks he can eat one handed. "Will call if health takes a turn for the worse, or other complications come up." She has the antagonist in a pocket and is going to keep it on her person and out of Hank's reach. As she puts down the tray for him, she gently reminds him, "Time is limited before current formula proves lethal, yes? Is logical to focus on one project, the one that guarantees your future health, and let Catseye handle minor matters and inconveniences."
"Mm? Coffee…but…yes, tea, that sounds fine." Hank's barely even aware of the women in the room anymore. He gets frustrated, then steals /more/ processing power from the Danger Room, AND some from Cerebro. Now he's not even using the holo systems, in fact his skin is starting to slick with beads of sweat as he speaks to the computer, tapping elements as he manipulates them to build the new S3 formulation. "Jemma…see to your other patient, effective use of your time, you're not needed here at the moment, you ARE needed there."
Yeah, cold brush off…VERY Hank, if he were a STEPFORD pod person, maybe.
His first smile is to Cat, it is not…even faintly affectionate, and then he mmms, and spends the next five and half hours working on the serum.
The response gets a look from Jemma but she doesn't say anything. There's a look of hurt that crosses her face.
"I'll leave you two to it then. EMJ out." The hologram fades, leading Cats and Hank alone in the laboratory.
Sadly, Hank is going to have a LOT of apologizing to do.
At the moment — yeah, just a LITTLE obsessed. He works for five and half hours straight…Cat keeping him distraction free. At the end, he sits up. "That's it…computer…save…" And then Cat sticks him with the serum antagonist…and he slumps, reverting once more to fuzzy blue.
And he's going to wake with a HELL of a headache.