Ch. 8: It's A Sign

When I wake up the next morning, I almost panic as I look up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Right. I moved. This is sterile. I'm fine. Emily okayed it, and she's never wrong. After that panicked start to the day, I get up and stretch a bit, before going to the kitchen to make breakfast. I make a few coffees, dumping some ice into mine and chugging it as I get my outfit on. I look at myself in the reflection of the mirror, and put the Beaker mask on over my existing faceplate, watching the white suit turn black and dark grey, the colors slowly shifting. It's still an incredible effect.

I carefully juggle the three coffees I'm holding as I move through the airlock, setting one on Ishfaq's desk. Time to stretch my legs for a minute before work, maybe a quick walk around the still under-construction Kudzu HQ. I step outside into the security room first, offering the extra coffees to the guards. The Kudzu one takes it, while the Bleeding Heart one looks like I'm politely offering to kill him. With an huff, I leave it on the security desk, and step into what remains of the subway platform that wasn't subsumed by the building.

Except, I don't. There's five people waiting outside. I see someone in what I assume is the not-militant outfit of the Nightjars, someone with the vaguely familiar Bleeding Heart denim jacket, two Kudzu guys, and... Highway, surprisingly, who somehow managed to get down here in a wheelchair. I scowl at myself for not including a ramp.

I whisper "speaker volume one point five." It crackles to life with a dull whine. "Good morrow, fine people of Dudek. I shall fill the role of your attending physician. Please introduce yourselves to my assistant within, and soon shall you be cleansed of whatever pox afflicts you.

I step back inside, turning the speaker volume off, and wait in the lobby. Despite the speech, not a single person leaves the clinic. Weird... or am I weird for thinking that I can scare desperate people off?

"My faithful assistant, please process them in turn, and draft an irritated letter about wheelchair access. A reliable elevator will do, if required."

Time to figuratively roll up my sleeves, and get to work.

Despite some light-hearted jabs and confusion on why they can't just drink my tonics themselves, all four of the gang members were on good behavior as I treated them for fairly normal illnesses and injuries.

My running theory is that capes are jackasses as a rule. Still, I do have to treat Highway.

He wheels himself over to me, as I point to one of the exam room. He glances at it, but speaks instead. "I'd just like another one of those things you gave me. Don't worry, I can pay. I think. How much do you charge?"

"However much. I care little for the rabble's coinage."

"Rabble? You know I used to be a professional racecar-"

"Twelve hundred per dose."

He smirks, pulling out a billfold from his pocket and offering it to me. Damn, I don't have ABS plastic...

"Just a moment... Assistant! Supply run?"

He stands, pulling his feet up behind him one after the other, as he popping his knees. "Whatcha need, doctor?"

"A building toy set. One with as many of the little pieces as possible."

"You bet. Thirty minutes?"

"Take forty, Highway owes me."

He nods, glancing at the man in the grey and yellow zentai suit before heading out the front door.

Highway crosses his arms at me. "Seriously?"

"I need ABS plastic, and it has only ever asked for it with you. I have no idea how it works."

"Uh-huh. Maybe you just think it's funny to keep me here."

"You're not worth annoying, and I'm not going to be an asshole for no reason."

He looks out over the clinic floor. "So how'd this happen? I thought you were an actual doctor."

It takes a lot of willpower not to slap him for that.

"I am an actual doctor. I have a medical license. It just so happens that cardiovascular surgery has a lower success rate than throwing random bullshit in a bottle."

"Maybe if you were a better surgeon?"

For that, I do slap him.

I took a lot of pride in my work. I was a damn good surgeon. Excellent under pressure. Excellent success rates. Excellent patient response. All of my metrics were amazing. And this guy, who already threw me to the wolves once, is out here insulting me as I try to help?

I realize as my hand stops stinging that not only did I take pride in my work, I still do. Who cares how simple it is? I'm curing the incurable.

He holds his cheek, clearly surprised I would actually hit him. I shake off my hand, looming above him. Despite the silliness of the costume, a massive bird skull dressed in black coat with shifting gray around the neck, wrist, and ankles can still be intimidating with the correct prelude.

"...shit, sorry, Beaker. It's the pain talking. Had to walk down the stairs, and it hurt like hell."

"Don't try and make it seem like I'm the one in the wrong. You're not the only one with problems, and I'm the only one who can fix yours. Now shut up, move out of the hallway, and be patient, patient."

I definitely went overboard. I let this small niche authority I have get to my head. I retreat back to the lobby, waiting by the desk for the next patient. I don't have to wait long, it seems, as a familiar suit of Nightjar armor enters alone.

"Hey..." Sondersong says.

"Good morrow, Sir Sondersong. How might I aid in your endeavors?" I lean on the cane, trying to seem casual despite the Highway situation waiting for me.

"Well, the thing wore off."

Damn, that's unfortunate. He must have one of the shorter duration cures.

"It will last approximately twice as long if administered intravenously. Of course, 'tis still a scant 24 hours or so."

"And it can't go longer?"

"It cannot."

"Shit... okay. Thank you. I'll stop by if I need it for something, this is a bit out of the way for a day trip. Oh! That reminds me. I wanted to know if you were hiring."

"Hiring?"

"Yeah. Overseer saw you using sign, and there's this girl in Nightjars territory who-"

"Audacious. I haven't a need for another deskhand."

"Woah now. Not a desk job kind of girl. She's a 'carries three guns when she goes to a corner store' kind of girl."

"Your belief is I would welcome a Nightjar agent carrying three firearms into my employ?"

He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, clearly having expected this kind of resistance. "She's not a Nightjar. She refused, in fact. She's-"

"A liability? Has she some type of power?"

"Well... no, not as-"

"This is a tiresome conversation. I am no gardener, so I have no need for your plant."

His helmet looks away, and leaves without adding anything else. Are they insane? Like I would willing ally myself with a Nightjar loyalist and break the neutrality so easily.

I wait at the front desk until Ishfaq comes back with the toy I need. With thanks, I take it over to my lab, and put together the potion for Highway. When I swing the door open, he exposes his shoulder to me without needing me to ask. I oblige by not talking as I swab and inject him. Within a few seconds, he stands up, cracking his back. "Oh my god, this feels even better the second time. I can't thank you enough, Beaker, I-"

"Yeah. Sorry for slapping you. Call this one even?" I'm not sure of the rules on the doctors being the ones to attack on neutral ground, and why would I rock a brand new boat?

"It's not even, I still owe you. Seriously though, how did all this happen? I know we're not friends, but damn, I'm curious."

How did it all happen? It moved so fast, I barely had time to breathe. It was under three weeks from where I went from moonlighting as a vigilante to being a full time, literally underground doctor.

"Well, I was fired from Dudek Hospital because I'm not allowed to give patients crux. Then Kingfisher wanted dibs on me setting up a clinic closest to him. It makes sense. His 'medical station' was being run by the guy who turns into an alligator."

"Huh... You, uhh... you switched sides."

"What?"

"Remember when we were working together specifically to target Kudzu? You joined up with the enemy."

As strange as it sounds, I hadn't really thought about it that way. It was just an opportunity to work for myself.

"I was pressed into the service of the enemy, and now I'm working for myself."

He starts folding his wheelchair. "I guess... I'll be back in a week for the next dose?"

"Yeah, sure."

He gave me something to think about. Jerk.

I check the time on my phone later in the day. 5:33pm. Damn, I lost track, and Ishfaq is probably still waiting on me. Last patient, fortunately, as I wave the Kudzu woman with a formerly broken wrist on.

I slump over to Ishfaq's desk, one plodding footfall after another. "All good, Assistant? I didn't realize I was keeping you late."

"Yeah. Thanks for checking, Beaker."

"Next time, come grab me. Your time is valuable too."

He pauses to look over my shoulder. My HUD has someone approaching us. The security isn't supposed to let in anyone after five...

I turn around, and what I certainly didn't expect was a woman in distressed jeans and a low-cut top, without any obvious gang affiliation, pointing a pistol at me.

Before I can trigger one of the several defenses the clinic has built in, she turns the gun around, holding it by the barrel and offering it to me. I approach, slowly, as I run through scenarios that could explain what she's doing, and how she got in here while armed...

congenital deafness, pigeon milk + white bellbird feather + greenland shark tooth + fulgurite + dried elephant meat

"For heaven's sake..." I say aloud.

"I am not hiring," I sign. I'm sure it's difficult for her to read sign without any accompanying facial expressions, especially since I'm not very good at it in the first place. It's probably like when you hear someone in a metal band scream-singing, but try to figure out the lyrics.

"Your guards said that," she replies, once I take the gun from her hands and tuck it away into my coat.

With a shake of the head, I enter through the sliding doors to tell off the two jerks I made coffee for earlier. Except, when I walk through, they're both reeling on the floor, bound with zip-ties.

I slowly turn around, as she stands there smiling. "They did not let me in."

"I can see that," I sign. "What is your power?"

"No power," she signs back.

Bullshit. I can tell if someone has one or not by letting my focus run through diagnoses until I reach a dispower, usually either the first or second.

congenital deafness,

iron deficiency,

carpal tunnel syndrome,

sleep deprivation,

hungry,

negligible TMJ,

long scar left-

After staring at her for a solid two minutes, I cut it off. She really doesn't have one. What the hell happened?

"How?" A simple question, I think. I hope. She's around my height, and although she has pretty toned musculature, the security are way beefier and have six inches on her. And there are two of them.

Her response is to display brass knuckles from each pocket of her pants. As if that explains literally anything.

I can't tell who I'm more irritated with at the moment: the two security guards she got past, and the woman herself. I lean down, and nudge one of them with my foot until he looks up at me.

"What the hell?" I say aloud, the irritation seeping through my distorted voice.

"Huh? Oh. Oh shit." He takes a moment to yank on the zipties holding him in place. "She jumped us while pretending to be here for the clinic, punched the other guy in the ribs, then choked me out while he was reeling. Fucking psycho." He goes back to unsuccessfully trying to free himself.

minor neck trauma, water + soil + iron

I look at the other, a Nightjar guy. A shame they don't all wear armor.

fractured sternum, milk + aluminum + paper + rosemary + hydrogen peroxide

Welp. She's efficient, I'll give her that.

I turn back to her, as she's taken to leaning on the front desk. Ishfaq is within five feet of her, separated only by the desk. He has access to a few of the emergency buttons beneath the desk, but isn't using them. Good call...

I sign, "Can you do fair fights?"

"Ten years BJJ eight MMA five Muay Thai."

"Money?"

She seems put off by the question, as though she didn't think she'd get this far. With a bit of a stuttering movement at the start, she answers.

"40,000"

I turn to Ishfaq in frustration. "God damn it. I asked her what she wanted as pay, and she just said forty thousand, Assistant."

"...that's it?"

"If she asked for more I would have been suspicious. Now I'm more suspicious. One second."

"Night Jar?" I sign. Maybe a direct question will get a clear answer.

"Live in their territory. Do not like them. Except green. Do not say I called him green. Name too long."

That's as good an explanation as any. The problem remains: being deaf is still a serious handicap, if only because of the communication barrier... actually...

"Name?"

"My real name is Michiko, as for my fake name, you can pick."

That's even better for me. No established presence means I don't have to worry about losing the element of surprise, if I need it.

More importantly, I don't want her around for my sake. If someone were to try and get to me, Emily and Ishfaq are the soft spots. Having Michiko would mean they're protected. Even if she does work for the Nightjars, I don't have any secrets left for them to find.

"You have a new job. I need to make..." Damn it, what's a sign for potion? [-bottle juice.] That was absolutely not the right sign, as the woman just laughs at me. It's a light laugh, one that feels warm and honest.

"Assistant, you're dismissed for the day."

"Okay. I'll try not to step on the security..." He says with a bit of a smirk, as he carefully steps around the bodies on the ground and out of the clinic. Which leaves me and Michiko.

I whip up the required potions for the guards fairly quickly, and inject them. As they recover, I make a quick deal with them. They didn't get their asses kicked by a woman a full half foot shorter than each of them, and I didn't hire the woman who did it. They eagerly accept.

Once they leave for the day, I say the phrase "Lockdown," as every door in the clinic seals tightly shut. Michiko sees it happen, but doesn't react. It's a lot of trust for an informal agreement, and I don't intend to betray it.

I make my way alone through the decontamination chamber and into my house, and thankfully, Emily is there. I'm starting to wonder if she actually has an apartment. I take off the mask for the moment.

She greets me with a long hug, smiling. "Hey, Viv."

I return the hug, savoring the moment before moving on to business. "Hey yourself. You busy?"

"Almost always," she says, an eyebrow raised.

"Good. I have quite a project. Might take you almost a day. I hired... let's call her private security."

Obvious worry tinges her voice. "Really? Were the security guards not enough?"

"Well, she beat the hell out of both of them."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah. Basically, that was her job interview. She came recommended by Sondersong, one of the Nightjar capes."

She sucks air through her teeth. "Are we really at the point where we're hiring gang muscle?"

"She's not with them, she just knows them. Frankly, I trust her. She's inside the clinic right now while its on lockdown. She's shown obvious competence, too. I've already had someone try to punch me, and don't want to get caught unaware. Which is where you come in."

She looks even more worried now. "Okay..."

"So she's deaf, and-"

"God. Seriously?" She folds her arms, clearly disapproving.

"Seriously. If you can figure out a way to translate her sign into my visor's HUD, and in turn have what I say feed into a visor of her own-"

"This is really, really complicated when the solution is just... hiring someone who isn't hard of hearing. And you can't just cure it?"

"Trust me when I say that's a hornet's nest, and I don't want to kick it. If she broaches the subject, I will, but she needs to ask. So... is my amazing girlfriend going to continue to indulge my flights of fancy?"

She looks into my eyes for a moment before breaking away. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll do everything, as always. Also, I don't know sign, so you need to help."

"Oh! Make a tablet or something connect to it, so she can show it in real time."

"I'm going to kick you. Okay, how to do this... I'll need my workshop. Come with me back to mine. If we get gang violenced, its your fault."