Dracamasia, the Syrynykk, clicked her way into the waiting room of New Rydynn Memorial Hospital. It was quiet that night. Empty of all patients and the insanity of regular hours rush of staff. Meralynn Harperr was there. She recalled the lizard female from a previous Emergency room visit and so took her aside. It was determined that enough time had passed and the stitches used to heal the lizard's wound needed to be removed. After taking Dracamasia aside into one of the sterile white cubbies reserved for seeing patients, Mera removed bandages and stitches, one by one.
With quiet sympathy Mera told the Syrynykk that she'd have a scar. This only made the lizard amused. A scar was proof to Dracamasia of her own bravery in the face of danger.
A man chewing on a toothpick made his way into the hospital that night. He was neither wounded nor seeking the attention of the medical staff but received the latter just the same when he began to fiddle with Elliot, the Hospital's Supercomputer. He had made his way to an open terminal long before Mera noticed him. It all seemed so easy to the fellow as he searched in the lower security channels of Elliott's database for the information he sought. He found the image of Garth Lowinn along with the hospital records that detailed the man's stay. Of course, the records themselves, other than the name and patient number were security sealed. But the ID picture was enough to let the curious know that the man he sought was indeed, here in NRMH.
Though it wasn't strange to Mera to find the occasional member of the general public using Elliott's terminals – searching for information on how to make their poor lives on Sabatt somewhat better via knowledge lost to public libraries and other venues in the war -- typically, such visitors requested permission before proceeding with their searches. And rarely did they use the machine reserved for hospital personnel. Mera challenged the man in the guise of helpfulness. He claimed to be a Freemen soldier in the Special Operations Company under Garth Lowinn’s command. He was asking about Garth and whether or not he could see him.
The Syrynykk faded into the background somewhat to watch the huumunn female confront the fellow who to her seemed not to be huumunn at all.
The man told Mera his name was Steven Cardell, when she asked and she informed him, having never heard Garth mention Cardell’s name, that the Commander couldn't have visitors. He insisted on seeing Lowinn or at least speaking to Lowinn’s doctor. Mera, distrusting the man utterly, nevertheless gave him the information that most Emergency Rooms would give out. That Lowinn’s doctor was Terra Skye, that he was in stable condition and looked to be improving.
The man who said he was Steven Cardell stood to his full, towering height of six foot, three inches, and smiled at Mera. His manner and his touch, for he had reached out to her, gave Mera the most uncomfortable feeling. He thanked her, asked her name and when she gave it, he smiled as if he'd been gifted a treasure – but one he could manipulate. Dracamasia didn't like how the man treated the doctor and stood to intervene when he flicked his toothpick at her and made his way out. She moved to Mera’s side to make sure the girl was all right, murmuring something about how he was a strange creature and not at all huumunn.
Mera reassured Draca that she was fine and they both heard the whine of the elevator down the hall as it stopped and deposited its contents. A woman, seeming skittish, with a coat awkwardly draped around her shoulders was moving swiftly along – trying to seem casual as you please – toward the exit. "Can I help you?" Mera asked.
Bliss Lovejoy jumped when Mera addressed her. "Uhm, no thanks everything is fine really." Her limping gait and her dragging luggage, saddle bags pulled behind her, allowed Mera a glimpse of what was under the coat. A hospital gown. Mera immediately moved toward the exit for which the woman was headed and blocked her path. Draca recognized that her own pathway was blocked and settled down for a bit to watch curiously. Though the Syrynykk, like the newcomer, was growing impatient to be gone from this place.
"I'm fine...honest."
"You were here just visiting, miss?" Mera remained calm and managed to hold back the edge of mirth gilt with concern that flickered in her eyes.
"I've been discharged. I was just leaving."
"Really ... Elliot, please secure the doors ..."
"Doors are secured, Meralynn." The sound of the locking mechanisms sliding into place all throughout the waiting room and ER could be heard.
"But I've been discharged. I can go now," the woman countered. She tried to look impatient but her shoulders slumped with defeat.
The hum of the elevator could be heard again as it stopped on the first floor. The doors whooshed open a second time. With a muttered curse, Garth Lowinn wheeled out of the elevator, and into the waiting area. Unbeknownst to him, he'd just missed his acquaintance Steven Cardell. Or perhaps he had not. "Damn wheelchair..." he mumbled, a smile on his face even so. He reached into his lap and took the water bottle cradled there – water usually reserved for Doctors – and opened it to sip it, then replaced the lid.
The Syrynykk, already disturbed by Elliott and the click of doors locking, shot a wary glance to the man in the rolly thing, blinking incredulously. She disliked being shut in against her will, though she cared little enough for the immediate problems of huumunns who presented no direct threat to those she knew. She headed for a locked window making an attempt to open it. Bliss edged her way toward the window even as Mera said, "Well, lets just have a look at your file, OK?"
"No need, really. The Doc upstairs let me go."
"The doc upstairs ... which one? I cant remember who is on duty."
"I didn't get his name."
Mera looked askance at the woman and lifted a phone's handset off it's receiver. She spoke into the mouthpiece then said, "Miss … Bliss, is it? It seems the doctors are looking for you."
The look on Bliss’ face said that couldn't be … after all, she'd left the doctor tied up in the closet. At that point Draca had figured out how to open the window and did so, poking her head out.
Garth, his expression somewhere between secret joy and amusement, watched the Syrynykk fool with the window, shrugged and wheeled his way further into the waiting area. He looked between Bliss and Mera, then and kept an eye on the emerging problem. The hot dust and breeze from the streets outside drifted through the air of the waiting room and Mera attempted to cross to the window. Bliss edged closer to the window, making a strangled noise for the lizard – as if she would have understood that Bliss wanted her out of the way.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Bliss watched the lizard escape backward through the window and push it closed behind her as she left. Mera weaved her way through chairs between the lobby and waiting room and two doctors made their way down the back stair. One pointed out Bliss to the other. Garth sat, less amused now and a bit more wary.
"Oh spit," Bliss cringed, dropped her saddle bags on the floor and reached into the waistband of her jeans behind her back. The doctors thought they'd be heroes and Garth, seeing Bliss go for her waistband, drew his old six-shooter.
"Don’t do it, kid," the Commander told her.
"I really wanna leave now."
"Listen kid ..." His hands steady, he reached down and wheeled forward toward her. "Just put it down ..." He leveled his gun at her, causing the doctors to pause mid-motion.
"Listen, Commander was it? I just wanna leave. I just busted my stupid arm, not my head." Bliss in turn kept her weapon trained on the doctors.
He pulled back the hammer on his weapon and his eyes never moved from the girl. "Why can't she leave, darlin'?" He asked Mera.
"She hasn't been discharged yet," Mera said, seeing the Doctors take up positions near Garth and Bliss. They held their hands in view so that she wouldn't fear them and so that they might try to help Garth calm her down. A hospital security guard wasn't far behind them, but they waved him off since Garth was doing the damage control. Mera saw that things were at least mildly under control and turned her attention to a new patient.
Garth and Bliss went round with gunslinger quips until she was willing to admit that she was too tired to keep it up and he had gained some measure of her trust through his words. They both put aside their weapons when their mutual admiration society ended with a deal between them. Bliss would wait until Garth had Terra check on her and if she had a clean bill of health from the researcher, the doctors would let her go. She agreed, though her shaking limbs were telling her that she had little choice but to sit down and wait it out. The doctors were relieved not to be shot. Bliss revealed to Garth after they left, the security man conspicuously left behind to keep a distant eye on things, that her gun wasn't even loaded. Garth found out that she'd ruined her cycle, her only means of transportation and promised to get her another if she stuck around long enough to satisfy the medicos tests. The promise intrigued her so she agreed after finding out who it was she was trusting. Introductions were made and Garth swore on the Tenets of the Freemen to keep his end of the bargain.
Mera, seeing to the newcomer that night, one Abra Linn, found herself assisted by the fellow known as One-Eye to most. The man called Zac entered the lobby and lent a hand to Mera when Abra became more and more incoherent. She raved about a woman named Ophelia and collapsed. Orderlies assisted with her and Mera, tired and overwhelmed by Abra’s emotional output, was relieved to see her shift release had signed in. She saw Abra safely into a doctor's care and then Mera made her way to her personal quarters for some well deserved rest for her chestnut eyes.
==
Ol’ One-Eye went in search of some grub but made eye contact with Commander Lowinn. He had something the Commander wanted -–had commissioned in fact – and was ready to deliver. He lingered, while they talked, tying his shoe and taking his time about it so that he might listen in as best he could. When the two had gotten down to their introductions, he passed by and from his deep inner pocket he pulled a small leather bag which he tossed into the lap of the man. After that, he continued his journey toward the doors of the cafeteria. The light in the clean but poorly maintenanced room flickered through the small square windows in the doors. It had flickered since the first day Zac had seen it and he figured it would flicker long after he'd last visited this place.
Bliss, not hiding her curiosity, watched as Garth dumped the contents of the pouch into his hands. She saw him stare at the diamond ring and wedding bands that tumbled out of the bag. Bliss rubbed the back of her head almost absently, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched him. "Whooo!" Garth shouted, his body tensing as if he would jump from his wheelchair. A huge smile broke upon his face and he abruptly asked the girl, "How would you feel about artillery on that cycle? A nice side mounted machine gun?"
"Feeling generous?"
"Yeah ... very ... but I need a favor ..." He slid the rings back into the pouch.
That got her attention and she straightened up a bit. "What kind of favor?"
"Wheel me into the cafeteria?" The pouch with the rings had already vanished into one of his various pockets.
"Yeah," she said, tossing her bag over her shoulder and standing to grip the chair's handles. "Long as you aren't looking for speed."
"Speed? Nah..." Impatiently, and unable to resist looking at them again, Garth dumped out the rings and studied the diamond closely. "Beautiful..."
Bliss’ interest lay in the weapons he said he could give her and so her focus was on where he'd asked her to take him. As they entered the cafeteria, she quipped, "Last stop on the Bliss express."
Zac, in his corner chair, watched them as they came toward him at Garth's direction. As always he reached to his concealed 9 mm to ward off possible problems. Never trust anyone was easier than getting caught unprepared. His boots tapped idly, a distraction for whomever approached as it was natural for the huumunn eye to go where sound occurred. He scratched his chin as well providing further cover for the motion of his hand.
"You one-eyed bastard!" Garth exclaimed as Bliss paused his chair beside Zac’s table and sank into a nearby hard plastic seat. "Where did you get them?!" The grin on his face belied any anger in the epithet. Zac could tell neither of them constituted a threat so his hand on the weapon under the table relaxed.
"I take it they meet your needs?" Zac responded levelly in his gravel on gravel tone.
"Yeah ... hold on." Garth reached into another pocket and pulled out a small device.
"And the chick?" Zac wanted to know of the woman who was busily ignoring both of them while taking a small wooden box from one of her saddle bags’ pouches. Something in the box pleased her and she smiled. "Who's she?"
"Who? Bliss? A friend … " It seemed sufficient, for Zac – who noted that the woman was so exhausted she could barely move as it was. Garth meanwhile was mumbling into something in his hand. "Bring it around...out back...near the ambulance bays." To Zac he said, "My command vehicle, the Warthog is out back, by the ambulance bays. Everything you wanted is inside it. I even added some things..."
"Good. Shall we?"
"If you're driving …"
A hand swept towards the direction of the bays. "You seen my drivin...no one better." He chuckled to himself as he stood.
"Yeah...you nearly ran my ass over..."
Zac swiped an absent scratch at his chin. "Yep."
Garth turned in his chair to Bliss. "Go back to the ER, and find a doctor name Terra. She'll fix you up, got it?"
"A deal is a deal," Bliss nodded. She shoved the wooden box back into her bag, stood shakily and slowly made her way back to the lobby in search of Terra.
The men watched until she was out of sight and then while Garth wheeled, Zac clomped along beside him to the bay. "So, you knew I'd be successful, eh?" Zac’s gaze was keenly straight ahead. As the two slipped into the dusty night air, two Freemen scouts took up position on either side of them. Knowing how they work, Zac’s hand remained free from any sudden moves.
"I thought you might." Garth said solemnly.
"Wasn't as easy as I thought; but, whatever is?" As they approached the Warthog, the scouts slid silently forward across the sand, and pulled out the M660 from the back seat. Zac arched his brow and let out a soft, low whistle of approval as he leaned on a door of the Warthog. The scouts leaned the M660 against the Hummer. One scout, his face mostly hidden by a protective sand-scarf, pulled out a sack. He set it on the ground before Zac. His steely gray eyes took in far more than either Zac or Garth seemed to notice at that moment.
Zac let show a small grin. It was quickly hidden in the semidarkness as he fished for a pack of smokes. Garth leaned forward in his chair and opened the sack as the scout dropped back. Zac popped the cig in his mouth and tossed the scout and absent salute. "Nice doin’ business with ya," he chuckled. The scout's gray eyes crinkled slightly before he slipped around behind the Warthog, but he said nothing.
"I'm throwing these in as extra," Garth said to Zac while the other searched for his lighter. Inside the sack could be seen some ammo cartridges for his 9 mm, charges for the tread blowers, a pair of night vision goggles. This last item Garth tugged out to show ‘em off to the One-eyed man. "These are hard to come by."
Zac gave a deliberate nod as the lighter sparked to flame. "Yep. I'd say that."
The gray-eyed scout then returned with another, having pulled yet another box from the Hummer. They opened it for Zac and Garth said, "Here are the tread blowers."
When Zac glanced into the box, his satisfaction was evident in the long drag he took. "Did yer homework, Sarge." He shifted his lean frame away from the Hummer and blew out a thin, grayish trail of smoke.
"Listen ... I want you to take out this bastard. This could get me in serious trouble with the high command." The gray eyes of the scout who'd opened the box of tread blowers, shifted. He closed the box and he and the other scout moved on. "These boys and I are doing this because we had a face to face run in with this thing." While Garth talked in his low tones, Zac’s mind did it's own little replay of the past. Still, he heard Garth's plea. "He killed five of my team and injured eight more. Take him down. The only thing I ask is that you give the guy driving it a bullet for each and every one of the Special Ops that died."
"If he lives that long ... I will."
Garth sighed. That was all he could ask. "You need help with this stuff?"
Zac shook his head. "I can get help if I need it. I got the Kid watching the TX. She can help." Then the one-eyed man tilted his head, his gaze fixed on Lowinn as he realized: "Yer not coming...are you?"
"No...I can't...this damn wasting disease has me down."
His fingers wrapped around the barrel of the M660. "Guess we'll have to find a cure next."
"Terra’s got it covered," Garth offered a genuine smile. Then he turned slightly in his chair. "You men are dismissed." The scouts saluted, boarded the Warthog and drove off into the night – all save one dark scarfed figure that slipped from their ranks and made his way into the shadows of the ambulance bay.
"Good ta hear you'll be all right." Zac pulled and flicked away the used cig and with that he slung the M660, the sack with the cartridges, charges and ammo and hoisted the box of tread blowers left by the men.
"It'll be some weeks before I'm ready to go, though. But something tells me you won't need my help.
Zac smirked. "You might be right there, Sarge."
"And hey, I want to hear about your trip into the mall ... when you get back." It was half joke, half serious. He wanted Zac to come back. He wanted to hear about the destruction of the Violator and about how Zac got the rings. He didn't want to see this man die in a search for vengeance he thought all his own.
"Sure thing," Zac said, as he spun on his heel. Garth turned his chair to reenter the hospital. Zac took a few steps, his load balanced perfectly, then stopped. "Hey Sarge?" The words were tossed back over his shoulder.
The chair stopped. "Yeah?"
"If I don’t come back ..." He shifted the weight of the items unnecessarily. "...go to the "wall" and say a prayer." Then the one-eyed man moved on around a corner and out of sight.
Garth raised a brow, then said quietly. "And who do I pray for?" He shook his head, turned and wheeled back into the hospital.
From the shadows the scout with the scarf followed the man in the chair with his eyes until he was well out of sight. I’ll pray for us all, he thought.
==
Bliss had found Terra, been checked on, given pain medication and reassigned to her room. She stayed to watch the Freemen Commander propose marriage to the Doctor. Though she hadn't known Garth would do that, when she saw the interplay between the two and the pouch in the Commander's hand, she got a warm feeling in her stomach. When Garth proposed and Terra accepted, despite his being unable to get down on one knee, though Bliss had only just met them both, Bliss smiled like a fool – surely it was just the medication's relaxation effects that brought that on! – and was as happy for the both of them as they seemed to be with one another.
While the Commander was making his proposal, a young man entered the hospital. On his arm was a lovely woman who whispered in his ear and left him just inside the doors. He made his way to the receptionists desk. A medic was lingering about, but didn't greet him as a "real" receptionist might have back in the day when the hospital wasn't one of the last vestiges of civilization in a world gone slightly insane. It wasn't the medic's job and ultimately, for that young man's intended visit, was just as well. He loitered about the area, being very casual, and took note of another two men who he was sure were connected to the almost mythological Fellowship of Magic. Something in his bones told him as he watched them …
Malybdemus and Azreth both sat with their eyes alternately open and closed. Mal’s body calmed, his senses relaxed and Azreth’s gaze flickered as he watched. Neither was totally sure of the other, but there was an apparent sympathy of sorts between them. Mal’s body seemed to become totally at it's ease even while something of a shudder took Azreth. Suddenly, with a cry of agony from his attempt to Nexus focus Mal's eyes fluttered open and he doubled over where he sat. He moaned, fell to the ground and clutched his stomach. Curled in a fetal position, his condition couldn't be immediately ascertained by Azreth who went to Mal’s side and knelt next to him.
Azreth’s cough sounded suspiciously like laughter to Mal who demanded, "What're you laugh ... laughin' at?"
"Laughing? Hardly laughing. It was merely a cough…"
"Right... "
Immediately Az knew the other man was fine, though a junior apprentice of the Union of Medics had rushed to the scene and asked the inevitable question about whether or not the downed man was okay.
"Are you going to be OK, kid?" Azreth echoed, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Magic wasn't for everyone. Some folks got violently ill when they attempted even the smallest of Nexus linked feats …
Mal glowered. "Help me up, already," he demanded of Az and to junior he said, "What the hell do you think? I'm lyin' on the friggin ground... " He moaned then as much for effect as for the pain he truly did feel in his abused innards. He let out a string of choice curses as Az and the Medic helped him up.
"So, what's seems to be the problem," the Medic continued.
Az offered his arm and tsked. "You shouldn't push yourself so hard, kid." To the Medic he said, "He'll be fine, I'm sure."
As soon as he was on his feet, he pushed Azreth's arm away, as well as the medic’s tentative assistance. Straightening his clothing, he snapped. "I'm fine... Could I have some water?"
"Sure, sir you can have water."
"Ah," observed Az. "What the young lack in skill, they make up for in exuberance." He watched the younger man gripe and grouse at the Medic until his water was delivered and then everything around him was ignored as he went outside. Az casually followed, at a distance, half amused, half curious. Mal pulled out a functioning hi-powered walkie-talkie and switched to a specially preset frequency.
He was trembling still from the use of magic, malevolence palpably dripping from him -- revealed by his current state of weakness. His voice was low, but Az could hear … snatches … "Yeah, I got it … hospital … rough times …" Then Mal staggered off in his own direction outside the lobby doors. For a time, Azreth stood there – thinking.
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