Chapter 25: Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Moe
A clock down the hall from the breakroom let out a few chimes. It was three in the afternoon, and most of Hestia's appointments were completed for the day. She finished up with her final patient; shot updates. She made her way to the records room to replace the patient's file, and as she turned the corner, she noted a patient sitting in the waiting area. She recognized the man as he glanced up at her with a faint smile. She gave a partial wave before entering the records room to file away the folder in her hands before returning to the waiting room. Her heart leapt into her throat at the drastic change within the room.
Her eyes first landed on the back of her receptionist. The receptionist's hands were in the air, her shoulders shaking from her silent sobs. Her gaze then travelled over to the man that was once in one of the waiting room chairs. His knuckles tightened over the grip of his gun. The force of his grip caused his knuckles to whiten. A few other men had entered through the front door, and Hestia focused to keep her nerves in check. "How may I help you gentlemen?"
A shot clapped into the air, and a warm liquid splashed against the doctor's face. The receptionist fell to the ground. Her lifeless eyes stared towards the ceiling, and Hestia's hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She knew better than to cry, but the shakiness in her voice betrayed her. "Maroni knows be-"
"Sorry, doc. The boss considers this place as one of Falcone's businesses. And since he and Maroni don't get along anymore, we gotta make moves. You understand, right?" He slowly shifted the aim of his gun towards her. "Don't worry. We aren't here to kill you. We're just here to send a message."
She bit the inner corner of her lips in anger as one of the other men approached her and grabbed ahold of her coat. He began to guide her towards the surgical wing with enough force to cause her to stumble. She lost her balance and fell to the linoleum floor. She wasn't given much time before she was gripped by her hair. The man began to slide her across the floor, and she laced her fingers together over his hand to relieve some of the force. She attempted to gain some kind of footing as she was pulled into one of the surgical unit scrubrooms.
Panic began to bubble in the pit of her stomach after noticing that her guards were missing. "Ya know, that's something I didn't quite understand." The first man spoke. He kept the gun trained on her. "Why have scheduled shift changes at a mob hospital? I mean, that's basically what it is right? And then you have guards changing out with other guards. And patients come and go all the time, and it's probably hard to keep track of who works for Falcone and who works for Maroni, especially with all the fighting going on." He scoffed. "I would have thought they would have had a special bodyguard to be with you at all times."
She glared at him as she was pulled to her feet by her coat. "Maroni's a fool, and you're making a mistake coming here."
"Why? Because Falcone's your boss? Or because you're Vic Zsasz's slam piece?" The man questioned.
"No, because I am Hestia Zaqar, and this is my practice." She straightened out her jacket. "And I am starting to get pissed off."
The man raised his hands in front of him in mock panic. "Oh no, the doc's getting mad. We better leave, huh guys?"
She tightened her jaw impatiently. "Let's get this over with."
The man that had pulled her into the room latched a large hand down on one of her shoulders as the other grabbed ahold of her wrist. He pressed her hand against the surgical bed. "Right hand or left hand, doc?" The realization struck her sharply as one of the other men forced her other hand against the surgical bed as well. "If you don't make a decision, I'll do it for you, and it won't be pretty."
She steeled herself as the man tucked his gun into his jacket. He produced a scalpel from one of his pockets. He took his time removing the cover from the blade before tapping it on the metal framed in front of each of her fingers. "Eeenie," tap, "meenie," tap, "minie," tap, "moe." He stopped in front of her left index finger. "You know, Falcone's losing his edge. You really should have worked with Maroni."
A strange sound came from Hestia's throat as a sharp sensation passed through the base of her index finger. The man's lips tightened as he put more force into it until the steel blade clanged against the steel beneath her hand. Hestia attempted to focus on the scene before her, but she found herself retreating. The tapping of the blade as he started up the rhyme again seemed to awaken something in her. He stopped just in front of her left ring finger, and as the blade pierced the base of it, she yanked her other hand free. The movement was surprisingly quick for her as she gripped the small gun from her jacket. She shot a dart into the throat of the man currently attempting to take off another finger, and he stopped instantly.
She had a few brief seconds to shoot the man closest to her in the arm, but the third slammed her face against the steel bedding. It knocked her silly for a moment, but he let her go to grab the blade from the table. Her unaffected hand gripped an alarm latch and she pulled it. The voices from outside of the medical hall clamored against the loud alarm, and she ducked as the last man charged her. The blade sliced against her shoulder, and she cried out. The small weapon dropped from her hand, and instead she pulled out her own scalpel and she drove it into his kneecap.
"Fuckin' bitch." He snarled as he kicked her. She managed to get a few more slices in before the door slammed open.
Shots rang out, and she could hear the fire fight from the hall and waiting room now that the door was open. The alarm rang out loudly in her head, and she forced herself off the ground. "Are you alright?" The voice was familiar, yet distant to her as she stumbled towards a cabinet. Her stomach lurched, but she managed to herself from vomiting as she pulled a package of sterile saline from the cabinet.
"I need to rinse my hand, and my finger." She snapped through the pain, her eyes welling with tears.
Victor was silent as he grasped her wrist to assess her hand. He didn't have time to think of Maroni at the moment, and he knew that, but he let the anger and hatred fester at the back of his mind as he started to rinse of her hand. "What now, Hestia?" The look on her face let him know that she was more than likely going into shock. He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. "You need to tell me what to do, Hestia, or else you're going to lose your finger. Now focus."
She nodded slowly. "Gauze, we need to wrap my hand. Not too tight, we don't want to mess with the blood flow in my hand."
He yanked opened cabinets and pushed things aside until he found what he was after. He wrapped her hand. "Do you have a surgeon here, or do we need to get to Gotham General?"
"Dr. Castillo is on the clock here." She answered after recalling the schedule.
Victor's sharp gaze turned towards one of Falcone's men. "Get Dr. Castillo and help him get a room ready. Keep it secured until the building is under our control."
"Whic-" The man started.
"Get. Him. Now." Victor snarled. He turned towards Hestia as the man left the room. "What about your finger?"
Hestia gestured towards one of the cabinets. "We have to bag it twice, then ice it."
The hitman shot a glance at another one of Falcone's men, and he left with quick understanding of his task. Hestia kept her hand raised over her shoulder, as her other hand gripped to the gauze. Victor carefully ran the saline solution over her amputated finger before bagging it as he was told. "Room three, Mr. Zsasz."
The couple looked towards the door at what Victor assumed was the surgeon. Zsasz wrapped an arm around Hestia's middle and led her towards the surgical room. He left a quick kiss against her temple. "I'll be here when you wake up. I have some business to attend to while you get fixed up." Hestia didn't have much to say as she was ushered into the room. She glanced over shoulder just as Zsasz unsheathed his pistols, his body fully tense as he turned a corner.