Me: This is going to be a slightly odd chapter.
Chase: Why's that?
Me: Just watch… or read.
Chase: Huh?
Me: I don't own Trauma Center! You should know that by now! (laughs)
Chase: ….
Note:
KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR
THIS. THE STORY STARTS AS A FLASHBACK SO
THE LARGE CAPITAL
BOLD IS THE END OF FLASHBACK!
oOoOoOo
Trauma Center: Racing Against Time
Chapter 7: Before Disappearing
oOoOoOo
"How was your day at
school honey?" a blonde haired woman asked, her celadon eyes
leering at her daughter
as she walked into the large house. "Oh fine mother," her
daughter
replied, "but the
teacher's still a fool. She messed up when we were dissecting the
frog."
The mother frowned at
her daughter's comment, "You don't call your mentors fools
Angie." Angie, who
looked like a smaller clone of her mother, rolled her eyes, "You
call
my teachers idiots all
the time mom. Why don't you home school me instead?"
This always silenced
her mother, who turned away and bit her lip. "You… know I have
no time and your
father… your father…" her mother growled and glared up at the
ceiling
which was actually a
second floor and yelled, "Stays in that damn room!" She huffed
and
stomped off towards the
kitchen.
The eight year old
Angie Blackwell sighed heavily. Everyday it was the same thing. She
would go to school, her
teachers would prove as cumbersome as ever, the other students
would spread nasty
rumors just because she was better at basically everything (she ended
them quickly though),
and then she would come home, somehow (this time purposely)
sending her mother into
an fit about her father.
Her father…. Angie
gazed at the floor above. Her father, Kenneth Blackwell, was a really
kind and open man a few
years ago. He smiled and would take her out into the town,
sometimes to the park
or just walk her to school. He was a respected and excellent doctor,
head of the research
and development; however that had changed after he received an
unmarked envelope in
the mail. He didn't leave that one room nor could anyone get in, he
had locked it from the
inside.
Angie pursed her lips
in a pouty-like manner as she thought about the actual last time she
had seen him. 'Oh…
there was that box that arrived' she remembered, 'I wonder
what
was in it. It was
awfully small…' She shrugged her shoulders and started
climbing the
stairs, entering her
own room, glancing around and sighing with content. The room was
her little haven.
The bulky, black
backpack made a loud 'bang!' on contacted with the ground but she
didn't care. All she
cared about was finishing her homework now which was, from the
teacher's
explanation, way too simple. 'Oh well, I guess it can wait till
after dinner then'
she thought,
stretching. Angie opened her door and saw her mother at the other end
of the
hall, glaring holes
into the locked door. 'Oh yea... it's mom's turn to get dad
to get his
food…' she
smiled as evilly as she could at her young age and watched the battle
between
mom and dad (well…
door) commence.
oOoOoOo
Angie looked at her
clock as her pencil clicked against her paper. 'Dinner ended at
6 p.m.
and homework is
finished before 6:15 p.m.' she noted, jotting it down in a
small book.
She packed her backpack
again for Monday, taking off her glasses and setting them on
her bedside table.
Friday meant extra sleep and extra time to do what ever she wanted
too.
Nothing came to mind
except sleep really… well, that and a yawn. She changed into her
pajamas and turned the
lights off, jumping into her bed and falling asleep promptly. She
expected to sleep till
7:00 a.m. but when she was abruptly awoken by a hand shaking her
at 10:50 p.m., she was
slightly steamed.
"What's the big
idea?" she asked, frowning and rubbing her eyes. Did her dreaming
about her English
teacher finally getting fired get her in trouble or something?
"Sorry," a
gruff voice said, "but
I wanted to know if you could help daddy with something…"
Angie was wide awake at
that, noticing through the darkness that her father was kneeling
next to her bed. She
had forgotten how tall her father was.
"Sure dad! Just give
me a second…" "No Angie… I just want to see your arm," her
father replied quietly.
She looked at him like he was insane. "Uh… ok?" she said
quietly,
holding an arm out.
"You're not scared of shots, right?" he asked, grasping her arm
with
one hand lightly. "I'm
not as wimpy as those other girls," Angie scoffed. It was the she
realized that her
father was holding a needle in his other hand.
There was a slight
pinch as the needle went into her arm, the clock striking 11:00 p.m.
out in the hall. "Now,"
he father spoke quietly, "Don't tell your mother about this, it's
a
secret between us."
She understood and nodded. Her father let go of her arm and started
to retreat from the
room, but then turned back. "If anything seems different… tell me
tomorrow night… ok?"
he said. Once again, Angie nodded. Little did she know, her
father would leave
later the next day for his 'failed' experiment.
FLASHBACK END
"So…. You're
saying that this all happened 16 years ago?" Dr. Stiles asked as
Professor
Blackwell ended his
story. Blackwell nodded, his head hanging forward, "I didn't
think it
would come back… I
thought that it was just a failure…" "…It must have been
dormant
this whole time," Dr.
Kimishima said, "That would explain why, even after the GUILT
outbreak, she was never
infected."
"But that could be
any reason. Some of us weren't infected," Chase argued. "But
she did
have odd recovery
times," Stiles intervened, "I mean, when we were killing Savato,
the
webs kept making the
scalpel melt. We were both nervous, so I wouldn't have been
surprised if she cut
herself in the scalpel box." "I don't even remember her getting
a cold
even…" Cybil tapped
her chin lightly. "Did she ever get sick at Hope?" "No… now
that
you mention it…,"
Stiles answered.
"Well… this clears
up a few things," Victor remarked, causing everyone to look at him.
"What do you mean
Victor?" Dr. Clarks asked, having been practically silent the whole
time. Victor smirked,
"Well… Blackwell can remember when he made the GUILT so he
can remember HOW he
made it." "That means…" Stiles nodded, "You can make a
serum
to kill it!"
"I wish it could be
that simple," Victor snorted. Cybil nodded in agreement, "Angie
is no
longer under our
jurisdiction. We could get in trouble for doing this." A fist
slammed into
the table and everyone
jumped, eyes turning towards Dr. Stiles. "I don't care," he
growled, "I will save
Angie even if it costs me my license! She's not becoming a test
subject!"
Silence fell in the room from his outburst.
Chase smiled, "Waiting
for you to say that Derek! I'll help in any way!" "Me too!"
Leslie
chirped, "Angie might
be younger than me, but she is a respectable nurse and doesn't
deserve this." "….
Fine," Victor sighed, "I'll help make a serum, but only if
Blackwell
will clarify how he
made it." "I want to see my daughter get married and have kids
now,"
Blackwell grinned
weakly, "Of course I'll help."
Cybil stood up and
walked towards the door. "Huh? Cybil?" Chase asked, staring at
her.
"What? I can't get
the anesthesia ready or the OR?" she replied, her lips curving into
a
smile. "Oh… good
point," Chase chuckled. Dr. Kimishima listened to the whole
conversation, leaning
against the wall. "Now I understand why Miller was interested,"
she muttered, "If a
GUILT strand like this could be made, then all diseases could be
dodged at the exception
of a short life and a painful death… oh, it's not right though."
"Dr. Kimishima?"
she looked up and saw everyone looking at her. "Yes?" she asked.
"Do you mind helping
with the operation?" Stiles looked down on the floor, "I just
want
to be very careful…"
"Of course Stiles," she replied, before smirking and adding,
"I'll
make sure your
girlfriend will make a full recovery." Stiles face turned red,
"She's not
my girlfriend…"
"Oh, after this, you might see that differently," Dr. Kimishima
mumbled
and laughed. "You
guys better get to it," Dr. Clarks said, "The escorts might be
here
later. I'll try to
keep Kasal and everyone off your plan."
"Right, thanks
Clarks," Stiles grinned. Dr. Clarks nodded and walked out of the
room
quickly. "Well, we
know what to do now," Stiles continued, "Let's begin the
operation!"
From around the corner, a familiar old man heard this, and began to this accordingly.
oOoOoOo
Me: (staring at her ring)
Chase: What are you doing?
Me: Staring at my dolphin ring. It kinda looks like Deftera only backwards.
Chase: (looks) Now that you mention it, it does. Creepy…
Me: I thought it was cool…
Chase: It's cool to have a GUILT ring?
Me: If you say it like that, it sounds bad!
Chase: True…
Me: Oh yeah! It's time for the battle against the GUILT anyway!
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