Ugh. My head is spinning. What time is it? I can't even remember the date—Ah, fuck. I passed out in front of the street clinic, didn't I? I exhale sharply, before opening my eyes. I'm in a surprisingly sterile looking room. A bit antiquated, with the ceiling tiles looking as if they're from a few decades ago. Not to mention the light fixtures. Someone must've carried me inside. Huh.
Considering that I can see they've managed to get me into a hospital gown on their own, and judging from the tightness around my gut? They've gauzed me up pretty well.
I guess I got lucky. It has to be luck that I was brought here of all places. I assumed I was going to be treated on an old mattress in the husked out remains of a crack den. I can't really complain about the place from what I can see, besides it looking a little old timey. The decor could be a little bit better, though. What with the wallpaper looking more yellow than it's likely original blue intent.
I stare up at the ceiling. Fuck. I hope the rest of the team got as lucky as I did. Saba probably didn't need luck. She was practically moving like a fish through water. Sully and Khez? Definitely. The humming of this ceiling light is going to drive me nuts, though.
I hear footsteps, and I strain my neck to figure out where the hell they're coming from—Huh. I didn't notice someone was in the room with me. They must've snuck in while I was lost in thought. My senses are still kind of feeling dull after all of the blood loss.
I should probably get up and say hello or someth—
I'm restrained to the bed, and I think they turned the synth-muscles in my arms off. Okay, shit. Now I'm worried that I strolled my way into a scavver clinic and they're going to split me open for my augs. All I can do is play it cool, and hope they leave the room. Then maybe I'll be able to slip out of here.
“Ah! You are awake. Good evening!”
Shit. He must've heard me rattling the restraints when I was trying to sit upright—Wait. That's an awfully friendly greeting for someone who might be getting ready to hack my arms off. He strolls up to the hospital bed that I'm currently tied to, clad in full scrubs. I can tell he's a fair bit older from how he talks, but the surgical mask and thick goggles make it a little bit of an effort to tell how he actually looks.
“Do not worry. Your injuries have been treated to the best of my abilities.” He holds an index finger ceilingwards. His accent is almost indescribable. They must be from some far-flung metroplex or its surrounding area. “Which is to say, you are—ah, how do they say it—as fit as a fiddle. Or will be, in a few hours.”
“—why am I restrained?”
“Oh. Do not blame me for being cautious. You know how it is around here. A gear missing a few spokes, a screw loose.” He points up to his head, overly gesticulating as he speaks. “You know. The crazy people. You looked the part, covered in earth. It is not good for business to have a madman going amok without precautions, yes?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“That's a… valid point.” I sigh, flopping my head back against the far-too-soft pillow behind my head. “You do know that I'm a cop though, right?”
“Ah, yes. I had found your badge on you when I was preparing you for surgery. Black Wolf Security? You are out of your jurisdiction, yes? I could not be sure if you had stolen the badge or not. Precautions, yes?” He laughs. This guy can't sound anything other than perpetually happy. “You do not trust me, I did not trust you. That is fine. It is the nature of things.”
He strolls across the room and turns on a monitor with a snap of his fingers. The screen flickers a few times before he opts for some percussive maintenance and smacks it with the back of his hand. It distorts, before returning to its supposed normal state. Looks like he gave me a full body scan while I was out.
“Regardless! An overview of your injuries, if you do not mind,” he continues to half-laugh and half-speak. He doesn't even give me time to cut in and say anything. The doctor points towards a deep scan of my side. “As I know my usual patients do not like the big long descriptions of things, I will keep it brief. You were shot here. Just above your kidney. Thankfully! You are a very lucky man and it ended up just short of puncturing it. The bullet has been removed, if you were wondering.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going.
“Now, you did suffer severe blood loss. I would believe you did spend a lot of time with that injury untreated, yes? At the rate you were, you would have not survived another twenty minutes out there. I have treated this, alongside your sprained ankle as well, but I would suggest that you take it, ah, easy for a few days at minimum. You also had a flesh wound here—” He runs a finger over his own temple and draws a straight line through the right side of his head. “It is disinfected and bandaged, but I did not reconstruct it. I know that—how do you say it—tough guys love scars.”
“Doc. Doc. Just—give me the invoice, so I can get out of here.”
“No.”
I pause. “No?”
“No, because I have no invoice to give you. It is completely free of charge. We look out for each other out here, yes? It is the nature of things. You will have to trust me, and I will have to trust you. That is how you build a community.”
“I'm not even from around here, Doc. Just tell me the cost, and I'll pay up—”
“If you are so insistent, then why not pay me in assistance? There are many errands to be done around here that I cannot spare the time to do. You know how it is. You try to go out and get groceries, but as you're about to lock up the clinic? A bleeding man, right on your front door step!”
He laughs. Again. I try to not express anything besides the perfectly flat line I make with my lips. I'd protest further, but the ringing in my head is agreeing with the doctor that I should keep it cool for a while and not strain myself.
“Okay. Fine. Just… no weird shit, alright?” I barely manage to eke out before he's already nearly taken off out of the room, laughing.
“Good, good! I will be back soon!”