[h1][img]http://i1383.photobucket.com/albums/ah281/Q-C0ntinuum/BlessedWraith%20Weaver%20-%20Copy_zps7aq7ebmi.jpg[/img] BlessedWrath (Weaver)[/h1]
[h2]Dr. Wilson and Josiah[/h2]
It didn't take long for Wilson to diagnose Vida's injuries. The necrosis was identical to Garret's injuries, if more severe. He still had no idea how to treat the condition, but first aid was a clear starting point. Wordlessly, he worked to wrap up her hands, but not before taking a skin sample.

He avoided her eyes. He didn't want her to see what was in his. Without realizing it, Wilson had been a little rough with his attentions. He was angry. No...not angry; angry wasn't the right word. He was offended. He had risked all to save this group of people, to establish a better life and a secure future for them, and they had -on their first outing tangled with a common street gang. Was there any thought to their own safety at all? And what had been the reason? He'd have to remember to ask that when everyone else arrived at the base.

[i]Hopefully, without New York's entire criminal population in tow.[/i] He thought bitterly.

Vida needed a drip, just in case her body's fluids had been depleted by her ability. It was standard medical practice to prevent dehydration, but in Wilson's case, it was all the more important. They still hadn't fully explored the effects of the Charlies' abilities on their own physiology. For all he knew, the use of Vida's powers could have far-reaching and lasting side effects, which could be dangerous or even fatal.

"Lie back and stay here," Wilson said quietly. There wasn't enough force in his words to come across as gruff. His tone was hollow, subdued. It almost sounded like the voice of a man who'd given up.

"Ester, your turn."

It had been a while since Wilson had to sew up a wound. On examination, it appeared as though the bullet had made just enough contact to produce a nasty gash in her side, but it had thankfully done no more damage than that. He spent a few minutes to stop the bleeding, then administered a local anesthetic to numb the area while he worked to close the wound.

"Keep still and don't touch it," He told Ester. "We'll start you on antibiotics if there are any signs of infection."

With that, he turned to face Josiah, who had seen this expression on his face precious few times. Wilson did not need to indicate that he wanted Josiah to follow; it was understood. The door clicked gently closed behind Josiah.

"I don't care," Wilson started, with a forced calm in his voice. "I don't care how this started, I don't care who's responsible, and I don't care how much you want to get back at them. It stops, here and now."

"They still have Sam and Christian."

There was dead space in Wilson's grand speech. Those few words knocked the air out of his lungs. They crippled his ability to speak. He took off his glasses and absently worked to clean the lenses while he struggled to come up with a response.

"Who?" He managed weakly.

"Don't know," Josiah replied. "But, from what Daniel said, it seems like they took them to a separate facility. We don't even know if it's the same people the Charlies tangled with. It doesn't really seem like their style, if you ask me."

"Daniel could sense them?" Wilson inquired, waving off the rest of Josiah's opinions.

"Well...yeah, but he said it was at the edge of his range. We can't really be sure it even is them. He hasn't spent enough time with them to tell them apart from other supers."

"We obviously don't have the skills to take on a street gang. We need more information, more training, more... more time."

Wilson paced while he talked, his brow furrowed to the point where it more closely resembled a freshly tilled field than skin. He stopped abruptly and, without turning to face Josiah, simply uttered the words: "Can you still find Masaru?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Do it."