A nurse’s uniform hangs crisp over a body that moves wrong—jerky, puppet-light. A blank porcelain mask hides the face, pinned beneath a stiff white cap. She carries a syringe like a pen, needle glittering with a slow drip. Under her stockings, swollen pink growths press and twitch, as if something inside is trying to crawl out.
Mutant nurses resemble the Humanoids they once were, though an alien mutation writhes within their bodies. They serve as caretakers of healing institutions, though they are fully beholden to whoever, or whatever, altered them to their current state. The nurses all wear a white porcelain mask made in the likeness of their original features, which grounds them to their sense of self and prevents them from losing their will fully to the aberrant influence that changed them.
Mutant nurses go berserk if their masks are destroyed or taken from them, or they become unresponsive if there are no other creatures nearby