This isn't exactly the hospital experience Donnie had been expecting, and the more he sees of the place, the more reluctant he is to keep looking. But they need supplies, and medical ones especially would not be something to overlook.

He still hasn't found a suitable replacement to make his bō from, but he's hardly unarmed as he carefully navigates the overturned hallways. After his first encounter with the yet functional backup systems, he feels better having at least some kind of weapon in hand, and one fashioned from his ninpō is infinitely better than none. Unfortunately it's also very showy, a bright thing outlined in neon purple, and indeed it looks like the entire thing could have been a hologram of sorts, some construct of light, yet he grasps the staff in hand like something very solid.

The turtle teen had seen the screens and their readings, already on the alert. Someone's triggered them already, which means-

Donnie gasps when he sees someone has been bound and already secured into a seat. "Hang on!" he says, as though the old man has any other options.

He moves in, either heedless of the warning or taking it into consideration as he dashes over, tucking the unusual, feathered wings that seem mismatched for the rest of him, tight against his soft, leathery shell. His staff is a blur, arcing in a smooth spin that sends the syringe and the mechanical arm it's attached to, flying as he alights on the top of the seat's back, allowing for his wings to spread only just slightly to help him balance.