And the Apothecary of Doom

A sharp buzzing noise split the air.

Inquisitor Bob's hand came up, bolt pistol in hand, and fired with deadly accuracy.

The noise stopped.

Bob looked up.  "Shoot.  I lose more alarm clocks that way!"

Hesitantly, Bob rolled onto his side.  He looked at the shattered remains of the alarm clock, now mere pieces that were strewn across his desk.  With a sigh, he swept the pieces off the desk and placed his bolt pistol upon it.

With a stretch and a yawn, Bob sat up.  His eyes darted across his room, taking in everything, making sure there were no enemies within it.  Satisfied that there was no danger, he got up.  Taking a step forward, his right foot landed on shards of broken glass from the clock.  Screaming in pain, Bob began to jump up and down while holding his right foot.  This resulted in his left foot coming down upon even more broken glass.  With no way to hold both feet, Bob hopped and danced among the pieces of the clock, making his way through the treacherous field of broken parts, and finally clearing it to stand beside his closet.

By that time his feet were both cut in a dozen places and bleeding profusely.

Bob reached into his closet and retreived a (much used) roll of gauze and a package of (often needed) banages.  He placed bandages on the bottom of both feet, then wrapped gauze around his feet and up his ankles.

With his feet bandaged, Bob looked into his closet.  He finally decided to wear his favorite (and only) set of power armour, which was decorated with many purity seals and a highly prized Crux Terminatus.  He laid the armour to the side and stepped into his bathroom to get a much-needed shower.

Within minutes, Bob was cleaned and feeling much fresher and more alert.  He began to step out of the shower, reaching for his towel to dry off.

And promptly slipped and fell.

Bob groaned.  He had landed in an awkward position, and was sure he'd broken his left arm.  He looked all around to find the cause of his slip.  And then he saw it.  His feet, wrapped in gauze, had slipped after getting thoroughly soaked.   The gauze had no traction.

By this time alarms had begun to sound, calling medical staff to Bob's quarters.   His feet bandaged, his arm broken, Bob was not in a position to argue whether he needed medical attention or not.  He simply laid on the floor waiting for help to arrive.

Within minutes, an Apothecary was standing above Bob, looking down at him.   "How'd you hurt yourself, sir?"

Bob looked up and sighed in exasperation.  "Well, it's pretty obvious.   I cut my feet on the pieces of my alarm clock and then I slipped and fell and broke my arm.  I'm amazed you didn't hurt yourself with those clock pieces."

The Apothecary looked down at himself.  "Can't see how, sir.  I'm wearing armour."

"Well, never mind," Bob said.  "Just help me get to the med-bay."

"Sure thing, sir."

The Apothecary helped Bob up, then turned and looked at him incredulously.   "Like this, sir?"

"Well of course like this!  What problem would there b-..."  Bob stopped as he felt a draft across his body.  Looking down he realized he had not yet put on his armour.  "Um, no, on second though let me get some clothes on."

After a few minutes of fumbling around with his pants and shirt, Bob was certain he was at least presentable.  The Apothecary stepped forward.  "One thing, sir."

"Oh?"

"Your tie isn't looped right."

"Well of course not!  It's not like I have two good arms right now, you know!"  Bob shouted.

"Let me help," the Apothecary said.  He loosened, redid Bob's tie, yanking hard on it to get it tight.

Bob gasped for air.  "Not...so...tight!"

"Sorry, sir."  The Apothecary loosened the tie slightly.

"Thank you.  Now, if we may get underway?"

The Apothecary helped Bob out of his room and down the hall.  The med-bay was down one level, and with no elevator the two had to take the stairs.  Bob began to step down, lost his footing, and promptly tumbled down the stairs, bringing the Apothecary with him, who then landed on top.

By this time Bob was certain he'd broken a leg and a couple of ribs to boot.  And he was certain his entire body was bruised from the impact of the Apothecary.

"Do you have any idea how much that hurt?" Bob grunted, hardly able to breathe.

"No, sir, I'm wearing armour.  Sorry, sir," the Apothecary said, getting off Bob.  He helped Bob up, who was now holding up his left leg and hopping along.

The two men made their way to the med-bay, which had a bed already set up for Bob.   The Apothecary helped him to the bed, and then into it.

The bed collapsed, spilling Bob out onto the floor and knocking down the Apothecary.   Bob was sure he felt his other arm and a few more ribs give way.   "Please," he managed to groan, "tell me you were injured in at least some way."

"No, sir, sorry."

Bob sighed heavily, then yelped as he felt a broken rib rub against his lung.

The Apothecary got up and offered Bob his hand.  "Would you like me to try another bed, sir?"

"No!" Bob screamed.  "I want nothing more to do with you!  Get me someone else, anyone!"

"Right away, sir," the Apothecary said, then walked away and futher into the med-bay, hanging his head in shame.

Bob stayed where he had fallen, waiting impatiently for someone to arrive to help him.   Finally a shadow fell across his face.  He looked up, saying, "Well, it's about ti-..."

"Oh hello, Inquisitor Bob!  It's been too long since you came to see your Nurse Betty!" sang a voice all too familiar to Bob.  He looked up and saw the Nurse, standing above him with her arms thrown wide as if to give him a big hug.

The scream of terror that followed echoed throughout the base...

The End?