Clean up crew: Without Mercy

**Thirteen** · Yesterday 09:32 AM

Thirteen just gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to Asclepius' thanks, and then followed him into the hospital.

She hated hospitals. Too much time spent suffering in a place like this. Horrendous bad lack as a child had led to more than one broken bone, and not to mention the separate deaths of her parents in freak accidents. Unwanted memories resurfaced, tightening her stomach. Images of standing in antiseptic-smelling hallways, listening to one doctor or another tell her So sorry, lass. There's nothing we could do.

So, yes. The Acanthus was not in the best of moods.

Seeing these threads of Fate tagged to various people didn't help her attitude, either. Sure, the Libertine couldn't tell if these threads were to be severed soon (that would probably be some sort of Death sight, she assumed), but in a hospital, the odds were some would be. It's was a morose feeling, having a sense of others' impending doom. Just one more thing to sour her mood.

The unconscious man on the gurney, he certainly drew her attention. All the threads snarled about him, the man was significant somehow. Lacking any threaded connection to herself or the Shaman, however, his fate probably had nothing to do with them and their mission. Her curiosity was peaked, but this was no place to scrutinize those threads.

Instead, she silently followed the Arrow, assuming he knew where to go. Thirteen had see enough crime and medical shows on TV, though, to know the morgue would (usually) be in the basement.

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**Asclepius** · Yesterday 10:24 PM

Looking around the Area currently, no shortage of pain and suffering of those that sit and await medical help. What is man to do vs the hordes of those that so desperately need assistance. The long queue of people and the sheer amount of those currently here did not bode well for the chances that the room they need will be empty.

The doctors going about with their white lab coats and charts, something inside him almost looking down on them a little. He was an expert in the medical field and by some rights could walk among the doctors in treating people. However the hospital was a dangerous place for someone such as himself, friend or foe would eventually come through the doors. Should someone that was foe find him then the already Chaotic environment would turn worse. No, his place was on the road and ensuring people got to the hospital.

Looking at the directions of the different departments, his gaze moves towards where to go for inpatient and begins to lead down the pathway to it. He keeps a look over his shoulder as to not let Thirteen get lost in the sea of bodies and chaos of the Hospital. Thirteen's look certainly matched a few others that were visiting the hospital though i wonder what the reason is, then again who does like going to a hospital. Certainly not him even if it was work to some degree.

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**ReubanBrightwood** · Today 05:20 AM

The ever flowing amalgam of sleepers gives way as the pair move into the bowels of the building along corridors and up flights of stairs the warren like nature of the massive structure severing to filter off most of the people the disparity in a way almost jarring in its own right how can so many become so few so quickly. Either way the hospital is a lonely place either in a sea of strangers or nearly abandoned in silence traversal.

After a few minutes they arrive at the inpatient area of the burns unit a nurses desk with two blue uniformed sleepers performing electronic paperwork await check ins and respond to queries or the summons of buzzers if none one else can. The ward is highly sterile due to the nature of the injuries it treats and masks and gloves are a required must. Most patients are in induced comas to help with the pain adding a creepy stillness to the clinical setting.

Now here the issue of trying to find Corns former room and any clues it might hold is more apparent. And the dangers of casting equally so. With less people the threads of fate are less knotted and tangled here no grand destines or fates cut short, no charged words.

**Thirteen** · Today 07:51 AM

Remaining silent still felt like a wise decision. Thirteen's Scottish accent made her very memorable, and the less she used it, the better off this task would be. There had been some attempts, at home, to mimic an American accent, but she wasn't confident enough to try it 'in the field.' So, she was letting Asclepius do all the talking. Besides, he'd know what to say better than she.

There was a feeling of revulsion to this part of the hospital. It was so sterile, and the Acanthus felt like just being on this floor was putting the burn victims at risk of some sort of infection. She felt like an intruder.

Which she sort of was, in a sense.

Thirteen stood back, to let the Shaman do his thing. Back to a wall so she wouldn't be in the way, she waited, and wondered if he had Corn's real name to use for this. She did, and now she was kicking herself for not asking beforehand if he needed that information.

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Clean up crew: Without Mercy

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