Ch. 6: Crumbling Trust

With admittedly fried nerves, I open the door to the former video store that landed me into this mess in the first place. It looks much the same as before, but the atmosphere is different until when I walk in. Kingfisher himself stands up from the back of the room, and inexplicably, he starts to clap. Following his lead, the twenty-two other people inside all clap along, looking directly at me.

What the hell is happening? I squeeze my cane tightly in my right hand, left hand poised to withdraw a potion, namely the smoke one.

"Relax, Beaker. You're the man of the hour," Kingfisher says, striding down the red carpet that leads straight from his throne to the door.

"I beg your forgiveness, but I remain wary..." I say, watching my HUD blink with so many people, all fixated on me.

Kingfisher takes me by the shoulder, leading me to the basement with a firm grip, calloused hands betraying that he isn't just charisma.

Once in the basement, he closes the door, leaving us again in the dimly lit room. "Vivian."

"Modulator off. Yes, Kingfisher?" I study him, flicking my head to the side to get a thermal reading of him for a moment, before returning to my regular vision. I'm not sure what I expected, but he looks the same.

"This old building is temporary, you know." He crosses his arms, leaning against a wall. Somehow, he's scarier when relaxed, like a snake before it strikes.

"Okay..."

"We're actually in the process of renovating a whole new one," he says, eyeing me.

"I don't understand where you're going with this."

"The lot we purchased actually came with a slice of the old subway station."

I'm starting to feel a little stupid. I'm missing whatever he's trying to hint at. "I'm a doctor, not an architect, so-"

"Underground. Massive space, already hollowed out, deep enough that even most explosives wouldn't blow through it. Whatever budget you need, lets say fifty million. The tunnels crisscross the city for easy transit. What do you think?"

Oh. Oh. "I think you're a bad hostage taker. It's a nice offer, but I'm not about to join a gang."

"No, no, of course not. You'd simply be located near our headquarters, so if we need you we can go straight there." There's some emotion he's giving off that I can't figure out. Fear? Excitement?

I shake my beaked head. Whatever he's feeling, I'm not about to get dragged into it. "I'm not going to be your pet, either."

Kingfisher runs his hand through his hair. "Let me show you something." He leads me down the hall in the basement to the makeshift medical station, now devoid of patients. "Does this look up to code?"

"I understand that you need a doctor, but-"

"I'll spell it out for you. That fifty million? Only twenty is coming from us. Five from the Nightjars, three from Bleeding Heart, eight from a national sponsor, three from Ji-Won, two from the skinheads, nine from multiple anonymous benefactors."

"You were just killing each other."

He nods, leaning against an ancient cabinet. "That's true, but medical facilities are hallowed ground. Trying to cause trouble at one is forbidden. They're absolutely sacrosanct. We're just offering to host the location and footing the biggest chunk of bill." His eyes travel to a rusting medical tray, long unused.

A practice of my own? No... right?

"I'm going to pass. It's an incredible offer, but... I can't."

Kingfisher closes his eyes. I only recognize the emotion he had now that it's gone. Hope. "I'll let you think it over. We have two weeks before we'd need to break ground. Please, Vivian. Reconsider. Whatever you need, we can provide."

It's the first full night of sleep I'd gotten in a while, I think. I already had my fill of vigilante-ing after the factory shootout, and went to bed early. And now, I'm waking up refreshed, eager for the day to start as I put on my normal day to day suit.

I nod to Reggie, waiting for my rideshare. I watch it on my app pull up to the curb, look at me, then speed off and cancelling the request. Asshole.

The second one at least picked me up, but kept making jokes the entire drive. I gave him the worst punishment I could stomach: no tip and a three star review.

Half an hour late, I hustle to my office, vials and ingredients rattling around in my bag.

Inside is a pacing Director Kinsey, as he glares at me from beside the desk.

"There you are. Late again." He says it like I make it a habit.

"Yeah, sorry, rideshare cancelled after seeing the suit. It happens."

"It's your responsibility to be here on time. How did you get a medical degree while being this irresponsible?" His frown reminds me of a rotting apple, all wrinkles and rancid texture.

"Well, I had the benefit of not living in a bubble, for one thing."

"I have been more than accommodating of your condition. All I ask is for the baseline level of respect returned to me."

"Accommodating? There's nothing to accommodate. I'm able to do my job more or less normally, in fact, even better than I used to."

I take a lot of pride in my work. I help people as much as I can, and take laughably low pay for a surgeon in return. I was a good surgeon, and still am. Even if I can't make one of my miracle drugs due to needing something I can't get in time. I'm still able to handle emergencies with my own medically licensed hands.

Kinsey doesn't break his glare. "I'm going to be shadowing you today. We've given you a lot of leeway, but our trust in you is crumbling."

"Wow. What a great idea. Why not scrutinize me as heavily as possible, can't let people get too healthy, that'd affect the bottom line, right?"

I try to blow a stray hair behind my ear, but it stays stubbornly in place down the side of my nose. I won't be able to move it until I get home, and it's pissing me off.

Kinsey watches me fight with the hair behind my visor. "It's not like that. I've gotten word that you've been using some... unorthodox materials. I can wave off apple slices or baking soda, but that's not all I'm hearing you've used."

I don't want to admit to it, even though he's right. I simply see the tradeoff as worth it. Going to die without one of my cures, and it requires a dog's eye? Sure, I'll call around local animal shelters to see if any were euthanized recently. It's the obvious solution.

There is the possibility of being let go, or even arrested. I use a lot of things in these elixirs. Today, I finally get to see if Kinsey is actually a hardass, or pretending to be one. He wouldn't throw me away, though. I'm too valuable. Downright irreplaceable. A healing power like mine is next to impossible to find, let alone a good one.

I take my daily printout from my assistant Ishfaq. More than a few rare problems today. "I'll need a shopping trip, I think. Sorry, Ishfaq."

"It's why I'm here." With a stretch, he gets up and starts following me around the hospital wings. It's odd being followed by two people, instead of one.

I can't place why, but the stares of patients seem more pointed today. More malicious than ignorant, like I'm a spectacle intended to be mocked. I diagnose myself with stress. Yesterday was a lot.

I start taking notes once in the vicinity of patients on an increasingly thin notepad, still fighting that aggravating hair. Most are easy, a few stick out.

unknown viral disease, cephalopod ink + any deli meat + silver + mercury

unknown viral disease, red 40 + salt + lysergic acid + crux

stage 2 pancreatic cancer, mouse heart + human baby tooth + owl pellet + goat milk

I circle what I still need. It's a lot of weird stuff, but nothing particularly immoral. I attempt to hand the list of ingredients I need to Ishfaq, but Kinsey intercepts it.

The look on his face makes his words redundant. "A mouse heart? An owl pellet? Baby teeth? LSD? Crux? And why are the illegal drugs crossed out?"

I don't bother correcting him on lysergic acid being a precursor to LSD. I doubt he would care. "I'm going to shoot straight with you, okay? I keep some with me. I don't know why, but my ability asks for crux a lot."

"That's- that's breaking so many laws! You can't use illegal drugs to treat patients, are you insane?!" he shouts at me, making me take a step back. We're in an empty hallway, but his voice surrounds me with a foreboding echo.

"Would you rather they die?" I ask, defiantly holding my bag, now standing my ground more out of principle than to appease him.

"That's not the point, Amsel! This could get the entire hospital shut down! The FDA would be on our asses in a heartbeat if this got out!"

Is he serious? I'm not giving people illegal drugs any more than giving someone a salt shaker is handing them chlorine gas and sodium metal. The drug is used as a reagent for something else. It fundamentally can't get someone addicted to it.

"Or, and hear me out... you just don't tell anyone? It's just a component in a different chemical."

"I'm not going to take that risk. God damn it! You know what? Effective immediately, you're being put on administrative leave pending an investigation. Ishfaq, you're fired."

Wait, Ishfaq? What did he do? "Hey, you can't just fire Ishfaq! I pressured him into all this. You can't-"

"If there wasn't a risk of you dying from it, I'd punch you in the face right now. Do you think because you're a useful doctor that you get to call the shots? Amsel, your assistant has been getting all these illegal things for you, obviously. Get the hell out before I call security. Both of you." Kinsey points down the hall, seething with unjustified anger.

I turn to face Ishfaq, but he's already walking away.

I jog to catch up with him, mask fogging up for a moment as I pant a bit. He turns to me, eyes already watery. He blinks a few times, trying to stay strong, before speaking. "Damn it, I'm sorry. This isn't your fault, and I don't blame you. You were trying to do good. I was a part of it, too."

Hell no. I half expected this to happen, but Ishfaq? Ishfaq has always been a good assistant. Cheerful, patient, helpful, he'd be an asset to any doctor. I'm not going to let this happen. "If you still want to be a part of it, I can pay you myself. Double whatever you made here. Please, Ishfaq?"

He looks at me through his tears, spelling out the obvious. He's not in any state to make a decision right now. I'm not in a state to offer, either.

"Ishfaq. I'll call you soon. Give me a few days. I promise, I'll make up for this."

I cry on Emily's shoulder the instant I make it home. I'm so glad she's here. She's my one stable point of physical contact, and she never once complained about having to go through the whole song and dance of decontamination just to visit me.

"Viv, it's okay. You're okay. We can figure this out, fight it somehow."

I wipe away a few tears, bitter sorrow slowly replaced by an aching rage. Through it, I dump everything Kingfisher said about my own practice on Emily. She looks less and less convinced the more I talk, until she eventually stops me.

"Viv, don't you find this timing suspicious? You turn him down, you get fired from a job you had for 5 years within 24 hours?"

"Of course its fucking suspicious, but damn it, I don't even care at this point. I'm not going to stop healing people, even for dumb bullshit like turf wars."

"I'm half of Beaker. Right?"

"Yeah, obviously. You're half of Beaker."

"Well, that's a decision we need both halves to agree on. I just want you to be safe, and intentionally digging in like a tick directly next to a very volatile gang sounds like the worst possible way to keep safe, even if Kingfisher isn't lying about hospitals being safe zones."

She's right. She's objectively correct. But still...

"I know. I still want to do this."

She closes her eyes, massaging her temples. "If I veto this, are we still friends?"

My frown appears instantly, eyes starting to flood again. "Obviously! You're my friend more than anything. Hell, I'd ditch being a vigilante and being a doctor before I ditch you. You've been here for me since the beginning. I would never give that up." I rest a hand on her knee. She really does have the most beautiful eyes.

"Viv..."

"I know I'm being dramatic, but I'm a dramatic person, I guess! I live in a literal bubble, and you're one of the few things inside it that make it worth it. When I get back from work or Beaker stuff and see you on the couch, my heart races a bit just from excitement at seeing your beautiful hair and neck. I know that sounds weird, but-"

She cuts me off by resting her hand on top of mine, looking sternly into my eyes. I shrink back a bit under the weight of her gaze.

"Emily..?"

"Did you know I always hold my mouth open when I go through the decontamination process?"

"Wait, what? Why?"

"Because every time I've come down here for the past six months, I've wanted the same thing. Viv. Is it safe for us to kiss?" I hadn't even noticed how red her ears had gotten, or how hot her hand was. I was too distracted by my own thoughts to see. How long has she been holding this in..?

My face falls at the same time as my heart rate, both waiting for their next orders.

"It... in theory would be. If you just decon-"

"Would you want that?"

I try to force out the words, but my mouth is vacant. It's all I can do to nod.

She pushes me down on the couch, pinning me with a single hand, before leaning over and kissing me for a second shorter than I wished she would have.

I haven't kissed anyone in almost a decade, and assumed I never would again. It was everything I could want, too. What do I even say in response to this? Thanks, I appreciate it? Good job?

"I... umm..." Smooth, Vivian. So smooth.

"Viv. I will support you, whatever it is, okay? I don't know what personal demons you're fighting that would make you want to get involved here, but if this is what you need right now... then this is what you need. And as someone who wants to kiss you again very soon, I'm going to support you. If you'll have me."

I nod again, mouth and brain fighting to say different things. "I will. I want to. More than anything else."