The lighting on the sterilized ceiling blinded Florence. She blinked, moving her hand closer to her eyes and stopping an inch away from them. A clank and a rattle rang. A cold sting gripped her wrist. She turned towards it, finding that she was handcuffed to a bed railing.
Her head sank into the pillow. Something squeaked on her back as she adjusted herself. The aches over her body faded. And the wounds across her turned into scars that had been formed in a few weeks.
A bitter undertone of artificial fragrance filled her nostrils.
A continuous beep echoed throughout this glass room with patients resting on their mattresses.
One bed away from her, Aisling, tied to bed rails, smiled and raised her thumbs up.
“What is with this bracelet?” Florence asked.
“That’s not a bracelet.” Aisling closed her eyes, rolling onto her side. “That’s a handcuff.”
“I know what it is called.”
“I kinda know that already.”
“Pardon me, what do you mean by you know?”
“I’m just saying.”
Florence slumped her shoulders, tugging at the chain of the handcuffs. She glanced around her surroundings… but… where did Renee and Martine go?
“So, about back then, when we’re kinda back at that haunted place,” Aisling said. “That… monster… well, at least what the NPCs called him has a name.”
Florence raised her eyebrows. “Pardon me, are you talking about that humanoid silhouette with those… fire things.”
Aisling nodded, curling into a ball and pulling the blanket over her head.
“Look, you do not have to force yourself to say his name,” Florence said.
“Nope, it’s fine.” Aisling looked over her shoulder, smiling without reaching the corner of her eyes. “His name is… Eamon.”
“Nice.”
“Not really.”
“I forgot to mention that we’re getting arrested.”
Florence coughed, clearing her throat. She punched her chest over and over again. But, for some reason, her fractured rib cage without igniting a stabbing pain inside her. Even the wounds on her neck, shoulder blade, and back no longer shrieked at her but tingled her nerves. Her face was pale as she sweated.
“Yup, that’s because the doctor injected us with a healing serum and a lot of antibiotics,” Aisling said.
Florence raised her finger. “What is an antibiotic?”
“Have you ever gone to school and learned that before?”
“Could you perhaps just be a bit more straightforward?”
“You’re really like a grandma. Are you?”
Florence pulled the blanket up to her chest. The fibers rustled. She stared at the ceiling, where the light bulbs flickered as the blanket swayed above her head.
“There’s kinda another problem,” Aisling said. “Well… it’s about your way back home to your sister.”
Florence bolted up, sitting on her bottom. The mattress squeaked. “How do I do it?”
“That’s kinda the problem… they took it from me?”
“What is it then?”
“Once we’ve completed the occult detective contract… the Wellor System will give us something known as a Wish Crystal.”
“How about we get out of here now and find it?”
“That’s kinda the problem… I’ve no idea where they took it.”
Florence dropped her jaw wide open. She slumped into the mattress with a squeak. From head to toe, the energy drained itself out of her body. She rubbed her temple, breathing bitter air down to her lungs.
“So… Do you wanna introduce your sister to me?” Aisling asked. “Since… you know.”
Florence closed her eyes. “It cannot be her… wait, did you say they took it?”
“Yup… Is everything alright up there with your noggin?”
“Absolutely, everything is fine.”
Florence inhaled and exhaled, wrapping her own brain. What was her name… again? She thinned her lips, clenching her blanket, turning her fingers white. She slowly opened up her eyelids.
“Hello?” Aisling waved her hand. “Can you hear me?”
Florence nodded. “I… but I guess you can say she is more or less a daisy.”
“That’s kinda not convincing. Is her name really Daisy?”
“God… I’m such a bad sister.”
Florence smacked her forehead, pushing her hair up.
“Nope.” Aisling chuckled, covering her mouth. Her body trembled as she laughed. “You kinda remind me of… never mind… just forget about it.”
The plank floor trembled, and the bed legs screeched. The light bulbs switched off, plunging Florence and Aisling into darkness. Immediately, the luminescence flicked back on.
“What was that?” Florence asked.
“I don’t know.” Aisling shrugged, rubbing her chin. She stared at her toe, sticking out the other part of the blanket. “Wait, did those NPCs say—”
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The room rocked as the beds slid. The frames banged together. The mattresses shook with a squeak.
Florence yelped as her hand slammed into the railing. She gritted her teeth, rubbing her forehead.
“Never mind… I remember now,” Aisling said. She smiled, staring at the ceiling. “They did say something about raiding the hospital.”
Florence nodded. “Absolutely, for medical supplies. Is that correct?”
A faint bangs reverberated outside the glass room as a blur dashed down the corridor.
Screams rang.
Florence and Aisling turned their heads towards the shut steel door.
Florence pulled at her handcuff. The chain rattled. The metal dug into her skin. She sank her teeth into her lower lip as the bond remained unbroken.
A knock sounded against the steel door.
Florence froze. Her muscles contracted.
“Yup, this is how it’s going to end? Isn’t that right?” Aisling smiled, sinking her body deeper into the bed. “Well, nice, it’s kinda nice to see all of you.”
Florence kicked the railing, tugging at her restraints. “Come on, we will blip off if we do not leave here.”
Aisling waved her hand, pointing down at the ground.
Florence inhaled and exhaled. “This is absolutely—”
Bullets ripped through the glass walls. Shards scattered across the floor. Florence lay flat on the bed as the spinning hot leads whizzed over her. She gritted her teeth, holding her breath.
The chain of her handcuffs shattered.
A projectile scratched her skin on her forehead, searing her nerves. Blood trickled down her face. The air escaped her lungs as she clenched the blanket, turning her fingers white. Screams echoed in her ear channel.
The ringing of the gunshot died down. An eerie silence swamped with whimpers.
The steel door fell, crashing into the floor.
A gal NPC with a phonograph for her face stepped into the room, pointing the rifle from one patient to another. “Stay where you’re and show your hands where I can see them. Or else I’m sending you to Mechtus.”
“Hey, Phonograph-Face, wrong one,” an NPC said. It clucked out of Florence’s sight.
“What?”
“This one is for those Players with terrible stats.”
“Couldn’t you have said it sooner?”
Phonograph-Face wheeled around, cracking her neck. A screech rang from the stylus scratching against the record. She stomped through the doorway, whitening her fingers around the rifle’s grip.
The footsteps echoed outside in the corridor, slowly fading away.
Florence lifted her head up from the pillow, wiping the blood off her face. “That is goofy.”
“Seriously, this is your first response?” Aisling tilted her head with her handcuffs shattered, getting out of bed. “I kinda don’t know… just whatever. Let’s get out of here.”
Florence rolled out of bed, standing on her own two feet. Her legs wobbled. She blinked, collapsing on the floor with a thud.
Aisling heaved, clutching her chest. She leaned against the wall. “I kinda forgot to tell you something.”
“Pardon me, what is it?” Florence asked.
“Well, let’s just say those healing serums will only patch up fifty percent of the way. Because of… you know… our stats.”
“How am I supposed to be surprised at this point?”
Florence pressed her palm on the floor with a creak, pushing onto her knees and then to her feet. She stumbled, grabbing hold of the bed railing. Her forearms trembled.
Aisling smiled, steadying her breath. “Are you ready?”
“Do I look ready?” Florence asked.
“Nope, but we’ve gotta get out of here now. Because if we don’t… you know… either of the available options isn’t kinda pleasant.”
“Give me a second.”
“Alright.”
Florence inhaled and exhaled, raising her chest up and down. As her muscles strained, she tightened her grip on the railing, whitening her fingers. She nodded her head.
Aisling breezed around the bed, getting next to Florence. Then Aisling wrapped her arms around Florence’s waist, supporting her weight.
A tremor spread through the building, throwing Florence and Aisling off their feet.
Thud. Florence’s and Aisling’s chin smacked against the
The beds rocked.
Florence groaned, resting one of her arms over Aisling’s shoulders. Florence and Aisling struggled to stand up together, limping towards the fallen metal door and stopping before the exit.
Aisling leaned forward, peeping out of the room. She jerked her head back, hiding behind the door frame.
Gunshot rang.
Bullets whizzed through the corridor.
“So… any ideas.” Aisling coughed, punching her chest. “Because I… kinda need some time to… you know.”
“Pardon me, do you want me to tell you the good or bad news?” Florence asked.
“Nope.”
“Fair enough.”
Florence and Aisling turned their heads towards each other, making eye contact.
“We’re screwed,” Aisling said.
“How about we try your time manipulation ability?” Florence scratched the back of her head. “Will that be possible?”
“Nope. No way that we could make it.”
“Pardon me, so you have a better suggestion.”
A shadow emerged from the corridor’s surfaces, growing larger every second. The stomping of footsteps echoed.
Florence and Aisling dove under one of the beds where patients rested. The mattresses squeaked as some of the patients shifted their weight.
From the corner of Florence’s eyes, a chicken feet from an NPC clawed its talons along the plank.
“Did one of you try to come out?” the NPC with chicken feet asked. A click rang. “Or do you want to say hi to my little friend? Since all of you think of this chicken eyesight because I see more degrees than you Players can.”
A screech reverberated.
“What’s the problem with you, Phonograph-Face?” The NPC with chicken feet wheeled around. “Did one of my fellas hit your head too hard?”
Phonograph-Face stomped into the room. Her disc shrieked. “I can hear you clearly, heretic.”
“Heretic, my face. I’ve got a name, you know.”
“I know.”
“It’s not I Know. Is Cluck Norris. You better remember that because my fella ain’t lying about those rumors of mine.”
“What’re you going to do? Cluck me to death?”
A click rang.
Phonograph-Face inched away from Cluck Norris as an eerie silence followed her.
Cluck Norris kneeled, looking under the bed where Florence and Aisling hid. He turned his chicken head sideways, aiming a pistol at Florence and then Aisling. His finger rested against the trigger.
Aisling smiled, showing her open palms. “Hi, don’t shoot… we come in peace.”
“By the order of Mechtus, you cannot kill them,” Phonograph-face said.
“Who is that anyway?” Cluck Norris blinked as she growled.
“I’ll totally convert to whatever this cult… I mean this religious group of yours,” Aisling said.
“Pardon me, how do you know it is a… religion?” Florence asked. “Never mind, I see it now. But I would like to apologize because—”
Phonograph-Face crouched down, pulling at the bolt handle of her rifle. “You can send that weird blond lady to Mechtus,” she said.
Cluck Norris shrugged. “Since when am I—”
His beak opened, but no word came out from his vocal cords.
“We gotta go now,” Aisling said. She snatched the pistol out of Cluck Norris’s hand.
Florence and Aisling crawled backward, wiggling their way out under the bed. Their hospital gown rustled as they stood up. Florence grabbed onto the bed railing with her legs trembling. Her muscles shrieked at her.
Aisling wheezed, clenching her chest. She coughed, cupping her mouth.
“What the heck?” Cluck Norris peeped his chicken head over the mattress, raising his hands. “How did… don’t shoot.”
Aisling stretched her arms, aligning the front and rear sight onto Cluck Norris. Her index finger wrapped around the trigger. The blood trickled out of her mouth.
A rustle whispered.
Phonograph-Face aimed her rifle at Florence.
A bang echoed, shaking Florence to her core…