The buzz and beeps of medical machines filled the air like the cacophony of many strange birds. A limp figure lay in a hospital bed, wires and pipes stretching from her to the various medical machines standing sentinel nearby like concerned family. Lying unconscious in the bed was Valerie and somehow she looked even smaller and more delicate than she did when she possessed consciousness.
Her breathing was weak, coming in rapid shallow breaths. Some theorised that if were not for the cocktail of medical drugs as well as the supporting machinery Valerie would no longer be among the living. The poison that formerly worked within her body had finally be eliminated, but her body struggled to heal and recover from the ordeal. The events leading to her unconscious confinement to this bed in a private hospital room were confusing, with dozens of Legionnaires telling different versions of the truth.
One thing was clear. Valerie had taken a hit meant for someone else, she had been walking across the camp with a friend, chatting about some musical nonsense when something stung her left arm. The demigod possessed barely enough time to pluck the small dart out of her skin before slipping into blackness. In the hospital, Valerie occasionally regained consciousness, but rarely for any real length of time.
Currently there were no real answers as to the swarm of questions, there may be many more questions than answers should Valerie manage to stay conscious.