Chapter 2: Merciful Thug
"These are your patients. I suggest you get to work straight away, profligate." Vulpes showed Arcade into a long tent sparsely-filled with injured and sick Legionnaires. The stench was unbearable.
As the young doctor walked through the narrow gaps between the patients, cries of 'Degenerate' and promises of slow torture were cat-called around the sick bay. He chose to ignore them, even when they systematically described what they would do to his mother if they ever caught her. If he was to survive, he had to just get on with it, despite the burning humiliation and anger within him. Arcade Gannon wasn't a people-person at the best of times.
He approached a soldier who was bleeding profusely from a slit in his thigh.
"I shouldn't even be here. I should have dealt with it like the others."
Aha. That's why there's barely anyone here—they're too ashamed to accept medical help.
Arc tentatively examined the wound, as the soldier grimaced and sucked his teeth.
Looks to be a knife-wound. Stitches and antiseptic should fix that right up.
After treating him, the doctor moved on to the next patient within ten minutes. Vulpes was suitably impressed.
