Ch. 4: Do Good, Make Good

Kingfisher's would-be executioner, who I've learned is named Felipe, holds a handgun to my back as he escorts me down a small set of stairs. At the foot of them lies a dusty basement teeming with cobwebbed corners, long-chipped paint, and an inexplicably wet ceiling. I'm quietly grateful for my suit's closed air filtration system, since I'd have to endure the smell otherwise.

I'm guided into a repurposed office with two small cots inside, both of which are occupied by injured men. It's immediately apparent that Kudzu doesn't have a hint of medical knowledge, judging by the clearly infected wounds that ooze angrily from beneath far too little bandaging. It doesn't take long for my power to kick in.

staph infection, olive oil + banana + quartz + any chemical containing chlorine

staph infection, olive oil + banana + table salt

deep puncture wound, remove foreign body, water + crux + human blood (from healthy human)

small laceration-

I mentally cut off the information stream before it can continue. It will go on almost endlessly if I let it, down to the most minute bodily imperfections. I, out of curiosity, let it for a full two hours on myself. By the time I got bored, it was naming specific clusters of cells that weren't receiving enough glucose.

I turn to Felipe, maintaining a respectful and supplicant tone. "Fetch me a pen and paper, please, that I may inscribe the required materials upon it."

"Fuck you, get them yourself."

"I know not where they rest. If you should prefer, I may type them into your personal phone, that you can refer back when gathering them."

"I'm not 'gathering' shit. Just fix them."

Fine. I can play that game. I throw open my coat, exposing the mixed rainbow of unlabelled vials. "At this exact moment, I possess twenty-nine elixirs that are inadequate for the level of neglect these two have faced."

It doesn't take a surgeon to know how poor their care was. These patients would probably have been better off without being attended to at all, at least then they'd probably have avoided the staph infection. It's gut-wrenching to watch unmedicated people die from a disease, even if they are gang members. Do some harm, I remind myself. Not doing anything is a hell of a lot of harm.

"I would like to speak with whoever has treated these two prior as well, that I may educate them on proper disinfection practice."

"Fuck you again, I did my best."

So Kudzu's medic is this asshole. It's no wonder they're dealing with infection, if this is the best they've got. "Very well, I'll consider this discussion concluded. If you will pardon me, I believe I shall find someone upstairs whom's more eager to save their lives."

He takes a long, frustrated breath. "Fine, tell me what you need, freak."

I take the opportunity while Felipe is running to the store to send a few texts. First, to Rogue Wave to call him an asshole. Second, to Emily, explaining the entire situation in as much detail as I can.

Emily answers right away.

EE: What the hell? What the actual hell? How did this go so badly?

VA: I have no idea.

EE: Once you get out of this, no more teams. At least this Kingfisher guy has you saving lives instead of ending them...

VA: Yeah. Obviously a bastard, though.

EE: Obviously.

Rogue Wave replies almost twenty minutes later.

VA: You asshole.

RW: workin on escape plan

VA: No, just let me ride out the sentence. Healing people is what I'd be doing anyway. Don't screw this up even more for me.

RW: u sure?

VA: Damned sure.

Finally, Felipe returns from the store, thrusting a couple plastic grocery bags at me. At least he can follow instructions. "Got what you wanted."

"You should be aware that this room needs to sterilized ten times over, my fellow, or this travesty will keep happening ad infinitum..."

"Shut up and do your bullshit."

I disinfect my covered hands with a few splashes of rubbing alcohol, and take out a clean vial and scalpel from my coat. With the scalpel, I carve out the exact amount of the banana I need, and drop it into the vial.

The rock Felipe gave me looks like quartz, but I really have no idea. "Are you certain this is quartz, Felipe?"

"That's what they said at the fucking new age store. I hope no one saw me walking out of there..."

Good enough. I use my scalpel to shave away some fragments of the quartz, and add them along with the salt and olive oil to the vial. It takes almost no time for the reagents to melt together into a hot pink.

I repeat the process again for the other vial, except without the quartz. Easy enough.

This last cure is going to be a nightmare, though. I suppose I better be direct about it. "I have unfortunate news, Felipe. I require your blood."

He responds by punching me in the left side of my mask, sending me to the floor with a thump, followed by the pathetic sound of lightly billowing cloth.

He starts yelling something at me I can't quite hear, as I try to reorient myself. Damn it. I slowly stagger to my feet. "Pod 2," I say, immediately feeling the sharp needle dig upward near the base of my skull.

"The fuck did you just say?!" he screams, as my mind starts to clear up a bit as the injection into my neck starts to take hold. "You're trying to threaten me?"

"Listen close. I require blood for-"

"Use your own!"

"It won't work with my blood. I require it from a healthy specimen." Keeping up Beaker's speech pattern is a huge pain in the ass sometimes, especially when I'm swimming in adrenaline and a mixture to help what was likely a concussion, but I need to disguise my own manner of speaking. I might be paranoid, but its already easy enough to find out who I really am.

Felipe doesn't seem amused by it. "You look plenty healthy to me, creepy fuck. Let me help you out, since you're having so much difficulty." He flips out a butterfly knife.

Stupid bastard...

I uncork a potion from my coat before he has time to stab through my cape, though he rams his dull knife into it with enough strength to hurt like hell. I splash him with it, and immediately, he is calm and docile. "Stay," I command. Felipe diligently obeys.

This is going to be tough to explain, but it's better I do so than wait for him to be found. I slowly move up the stairs to the main floor of their hideout. At the top of them, I knock politely on the wooden door leading to the steps below, hoping Kingfisher will prefer my announcing myself over simply walking through.

One of the lower level members opens the door, recoiling at seeing my beaked mask instead of Felipe's face.

"My good sir, please inform Kingfisher that there has been a... situation... that requires his immediate attention."

I'm impressed with the speed at which he runs to tell his boss. The guy's an impressive courier.

I wasn't expecting Kingfisher to follow me without an entourage. Instead, he came alone, and methodically walks down the steps behind me. Part of me sees it as a chance to escape, another part of me envisions us both dying as I nobly sacrifice myself. I ignore both bad ideas, opting for a third.

"Sir Kingfisher, I-"

"Cut the act when we're alone, Vivian."

Damn it, he really does know everything about me, down to my name. That's incredibly unsettling... did he already know it, or is it new? Some kind of mind reading..? Whatever the case, I'm at his mercy.

"Yes, sir. Modulator off." My voice is now my own, only slightly muffled by the costume. "Are you aware of my... condition?"

"Enlighten me," he says, folding his arms and glaring at me. I don't think I've seen him blink, now that I think about it.

"My dispower is that I don't have an immune system. I need an airtight, decontaminated environment wherever I go, or else I'd die of fifty diseases just by walking down the block."

"You got fucked, huh?" he says. I appreciate the bluntness. I've never liked navigating complicated subtext.

"Yes. I did. Everyone always says that, and they're always right. The real pain in... sorry, back on topic. One of the required ingredients for an elixir is blood from a healthy human. I tried to explain this to Felipe, but he was... less than accepting. Punched me, then tries to stab me." I lead Kingfisher into the makeshift medical station, where his goon is still standing nearly perfectly still, staring at nothing and unresponsive to Kingfisher's voice.

"You didn't kill him?" He sounds a little surprised.

"Obviously not. I've actually never killed someone in cold blood." I try to worm my way around the singular time I did kill someone without lying to Kingfisher. I'm not sure what his power is, but I assume its information based, or maybe limited precognition... maybe remote observation?

Kingfisher waves his hand in front of Felipe's face. "Mhmm. He's brain dead?"

"No, god no. He's hypnotized. Felipe, face me." Felipe slowly shuffles around to do so.

"And it'll wear off..." he asks, shaking Felipe's shoulder a bit.

"In about thirty seconds. This is a bit of an imposition, but would you mind standing in front of me? My suit is made of durable stuff, and has a few emergency safety measures, but... its a gamble."

He takes my shoulder, guiding me behind him as Felipe slowly wakes up from his trance. "What... where... what?"

"Felipe. I've been told you tried to harm our temporary doctor."

He's lucid fast, as the effect wears off almost instantly. "Damn right! Dumb bitch said she wanted my fucking blood."

"Did she, now? Go upstairs. I'll take it from here."

Felipe sneers at me on his way up the stairs, as Kingfisher waits for the door to close. The gang boss turns back to me, eyes somewhat less threatening. "I apologize, Vivian. He has a very helpful ability, but his temper leaves a lot to be desired."

Play nice. He can make your life hell. He can make your entire circle's life hell. "Of course, sir. I can understand the difficulty that would put you in."

"You don't have to kiss my ass, Vivian. I'm holding you hostage, you're allowed to be angry."

Angry? Anger is the last thing on my mind... I take a moment to try and find the rage, imagining it fomenting and boiling over. "You... jerk? I'm sorry, I'm not good at being angry when I'm not in character."

He raises a skeptical eyebrow for a moment, but it falls back into place quickly. "Do you have the vial you need the blood for?"

"Yes. Here." I dig into my coat, offering it to him. "I have a syringe too, for whoever... oh."

He flicks out a knife with his off hand, ever so slightly cutting open his thumb, and letting a few drops fall into the vial. "There." He offers the vial back to me, and I take it with a slow grasp, my appreciation hidden by my outfit.

It's so much easier when people actually listen to me. Not fighting with idiots, or insurance companies, or rich morons, or the hospital director. It's like a different job entirely.

A better job, too, as uncomfortable as it is to admit.

I offer him an adhesive bandage from one of the pockets closest to the front, carefully unwrapping it for him. He looks at with curiosity, before taking it and applying it around his thumb. "You're doing a very bad job of being a kidnapping victim."

He does have a point, but I'm used to staying calm in high pressure scenarios. Even before my power kicked in, I was a surgeon. Getting shaky while a life is in your hands isn't an option.

"I guess I am. Thing is, you're absolutely terrifying, and I need certain concessions from you to make our arrangement work. I figure if I'm honest and professional with you, you'll understand that I'm happy to pay off the debt before parting ways." Emily, Reggie, my home, my suit's limited cartridge lifespan... I need to go back just to eat, even.

"What concessions?" He asks, studying me as I place the crux into the vial, before filling it with water.

"I... I know this sounds suspicious, but I need to go home at least once a day. My suit needs new cartridges for the filters, and the rebreather is finite as well."

There's clear amusement in a sprouting smile. "You aren't physically trapped here. What, you thought I'd keep you chained to the walls of jail cell until you cured enough people?"

"I... well, yes. That's exactly what I thought, to be honest." I watch the vial turn a blackish-green, and set it aside as I take a clean scalpel and pair of long tweezers from my coat, quickly sterilizing them with an alcohol wipe before I start cautiously rooting around the find whatever the hell got stuck in this guy. It doesn't look as neat as a bullet wound, to be sure.

"And you were just going to accept that without a fight?" I can't figure out if he's genuinely curious or just taunting me. Maybe both?

"Pretty sure I lost that fight before it started. I'm not an idiot, Kingfisher. Hell, joining up with the three morons earlier was supposed to be a one time thing. So I need to go home, and I can't have you sending injured gang members there. I can make myself available at any time, and get here within an hour, traffic permitting. I don't have a car, so-"

"We'd pick you up. Obviously."

"Oh. Then half an hour, traffic permitting. So... that's it."

"Really? That's all you need? Nothing else?"

"I guess the reagents I'd need for my potions if I can't get them myself, but I think that was already on the table. And not hurting my friends and family to get to me, but if my theory holds true, doing a good job means you'll keep to the agreement... I'm trying to think for any loopholes I missed here."

He's back to being unreadable, with his voice returning to a consistent tone. "Being an asshole was posturing. Keeps the less stable elements in line. You do good, I make good. Simple."

"Simple," I confirm. I obviously can't trust him, but there's no point in being combative at this stage. I need to feel things out a bit more before I start pushing back. "Got it," I say, as I feel the tweezers poking something hard that shouldn't be there. I carefully withdraw it, using the blunt end of the scalpel to keep the wound open wide enough to do it. I drop it onto a rusted medical tray next to me. A small pebble. Odd...

I take another syringe from my coat and withdraw a good amount of the dark liquid from the vial, injecting it into the wound site and tucking the remainder of the vial into my coat.

"That about does it. To clarify, I'm the only one who can use these elixirs. If anyone else tries to use them, they denature. You're welcome to try any of them, if you don't trust me saying that."

I display the vast array inside my coat like a drug dealer from a movie. Kingfisher's eyes start to linger on my environmental suit visible beneath the coat for a bit too long. I readjust the coat while nervously realigning the beak of my mask. "I should probably mention, the cane contains a potent nerve agent. It only needs skin contact to start working. A trump card, if I need it."

He glances at the cane, supported against the wall in the corner of the room. "And you didn't use this earlier?"

"I did not."

He gives me a single passing look as the first patient starts to stretch a bit, already looking more healthy. Kingfisher picks up the cane from the corner, offering it to me. I reach for it, hesitantly, like its a trap of some kind.

Kingfisher returns up the stairs with me in tow, and with a single nod towards the front door, I quickly step out into the city once again. I can't smell the air or feel the chill wind of the night on my skin, but all the same, I'm thrilled to have made it out.

Now I just need to not fuck it up.