A/N
I'm not gonna even start with my HS life... it's that bad.
Music Recommendations: Resurgam Theme, On the Town, The Suspect, (blank... I dunno), Rose's Theme, Conference A, Resurgam Theme/Diagnostic Theme? (sry, no GC action in this chappy), (blank), Prison Theme, (blank)
Oh man. This list is just shouting that I have problems...
05_The_Stories_
Less reckless measures were used this time.
"Hey kid, you up?" Gambling that her apprentice would be awake, Dr. Torres chose to utilize the benefit of knocking rather than blowing away the stalwart door. Her previous methods almost got her reprimanded for public disturbance and..well, she just didn't want that to happen again. "Good news, I think I can take us out to breakfast..." But the holdup wasn't something she permitted as a paramedic.
The five knocks and food opportunity was appealing enough to the inhabitant of the room, granted that yesterday evening she was brought the poorest meal imaginable: Who could eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a pint of milk for dinner? Let alone, live through a night with only that in your stomach? Erhard was at Maria's side in no longer than a minute, throwing on a matching EMT jacket and shutting the door staidly— those red eyes showing signs of sagging after a slight case of insomnia.
"Did I miss something yesterday..?" The woman didn't expect a single emergency to make the kid become a void, depleted of everything except fatigue. All hunches about that cause were called off as she saw a nod after whipping up a conjecture, "It was Gabe; um... the doctor with the jumbled green hair...wasn't it? He...didn't give you anything good to eat?" Why did she even go through the hassle of asking? Of course that guy would know absolutely nothing about getting food for kids; there was a reason why he titled himself the worst parent out there. "I shouldn't have asked that jerk..."
The orphan wasn't unfavorable of what she said; though that man may have addiction and devotion-to-obligation issues, that didn't mean his endeavor was to be undervalued. The teen wasn't entailing that she liked what he did— she would certainly prize the idea of having a meal with this boisterous...individual.
And her keeper vowed to make that come true. "Okay, you know what? I'm getting us a big breakfast...mall's close by, so let's go there." As an alternative to sailing through the building like some unplanned contest, she broke out at an even speed-walk. "It's only for the food, we gotta be back at the ward soon...or else Chief isn't going to be too happy."
The volunteer, who had dashing hopes of sightseeing the hotspot, sank back to her old, grouchy mood when the deadline was announced. True, she was already lucky enough to be ensured a glint of the place...
"Hey, don't fall behind!'
Snapping out of the sulking, she surged up to the precipitous caller.
'This trip better be worth it.'
"Look at yourself. Don't tell me this is your first time here?" Maria, who felt detached from the child's sprightliness, chirped as the male figure she had upheld about the newcomer attenuated. "This is Atlus Mall. Pretty cool, isn't it?" And a sight to behold, that was, if you were a kid kept in an asylum for years. The rainbow of ocher and sienna of the walls and floors was uplifting to see, not to mention the palette of other colors among the stores and ornamentation on the sides. The skylights were also pretty darn intricate if you consider the crooked shape of the place. Those architects should be bestowed a medal of awesomeness or something; the follower beyond question found their work to be of splendor.
And it was a shame that they could only dine there. "It'd be kinda nice if I could show you around." After she set a white bag of Chinese take-out down, the woman flexed out her arms and had a silent yawn before seating across from Erhard. "I always go out here with friends." Tomoe Tachibana was the first of those companions that whizzed by her head. Obliging the malnourished one in front of her, she asserted, "Go ahead. I'll help myself later."
The commencing sign saved a famished kid from the delay and she, timidly this time, dug into the meal. Dr. Torres didn't make much of the feasting tyke, if anything, she was bemused. This person had the biggest guts she'll ever see from a minor: Sure, children have forever been ignorant of the struggle between life and death, but this guy was...primitive for a seventeen year-old. Some things were just nonexistent to him— fear, grief...the things that sometimes drove humans to become horrified of their own shadows. Wiped off the face of the earth.
She could be curbing those and was born to have that upbeat grin. It was funny, but she kinda respected that beaming face. In the end, it was the spirit that counted, right? "Oh. I didn't tell you my name, now did I?" Maybe that was because she never saw it being effective. "I'm Maria Torres." The need for reiterating to the preoccupied mute was cast aside as her beryl-green eyes swanned off to the seasonal banners that adorned the bare columns of the food court.
Her 'guest' regularly faltered over gobbling down more of the breakfast when the host, out of the blue, modified her introduction into a narrative, "I started out like you..." She drooped down with crossed arms on the yellow surface of the table, the right side of her head resting. "In an orphanage, I mean." This background was only known by best friends; believing this mute could keep a secret better than anyone else, she kept going with a weak laugh, "I hated it...being an outcast to the other lucky kids in the neighborhood who had families...life felt like torture. Everything...sucked."
The single-membered audience never laid down the plastic utensils during the tale. Through the outreach was inspirational, her reception to it wasn't empathetic. It was more like a fleeting 'oh, I didn't know' expression. The speaker's view was elsewhere, so she couldn't make anything from the other. "I got carried away with cigarettes and one day, I...basically started a fire on accident." Even in the middle of a public building, the quiet doldrums were present during the one-sided talk. "Nevermind, it's sorta a long story how I got here. I'll leave it for later."
When the woman raised her head, the teenager had a napkin over her mouth, displaying that she was...fully replenished. The next phrase she heard made her stiffen up slightly, "I know you didn't do it; that fire a couple days back. At least, not on purpose." The paramedic took out the other carry-out box from the bag and a fork as she said, "By the way, I remember hearing your name somewhere before. 'Erhard,' wasn't it?" Her eyebrows barely formed angles as she murmured, "I didn't recognize your face when I saw you, though."
Nothing came out from the orphan as she sprung out of the chair to admire the sunny environment. The pleasant vibe throughout the space was then interrupted by the lady from behind after she swallowed a mouthful of rice, "But you do look a lot like that specialist..." Though the adolescent girl had a clue of who she was talking about, she herself couldn't convey that knowledge when she stood still just to map out the floor.
"The guy you knocked over not so long ago...The prisoner?"
Dr. Torres thought the gossip among the hospital staff was popular; adequate enough for the kid to learn that fact. "Nobody told you that yet?" The stupor from the mute led her to reckon that Gabe may have 'helped' this guy make some friends yesterday. "He's...an innocent man. Forget what I said." This informative side became a brutal thing.
The controversy simmered down within seconds as Erhard sat down and waited on the EMT, at the same time, ruminating. Maria cut the holding out time short by completing her meal sooner. She abruptly noted as she scooped up the trash, "Damn, I forgot there was an assembly today...Let's go." Without saying much else, she flung a fortune cookie to the companion, dumped the empty cartons and utensils, and scuffled back on over to the old ward with the reluctant minor— all in a crazy, unpremeditated, haste.
The leader of the Resurgam first response squad, in her dart, had a extravagant debut. If only her unpunctual entry didn't send a bad message through the new recruits...It already did to her co-workers, who seemed to lour the captain's late appearance with fake smiles. She had an rocky start with her voice, "S-sorry about that guys. I had an errand... Anyways, welcome to the Resurgam team. Nice to see all of you signed up..." Her feet sped to the other side with a steadfast confidence, past the line of brand-new citrus-orange jackets.
The presentation carried on with the orphan sheltering behind a column near the doorway, measures taken to avert undesired eyes. She hardly embraced the meeting, as she was the outlier of the group, even to the row of starters. Though secluding oneself she never minded. "I'm Dr. Maria Torres. The other doctors behind me are here to help you all out on your first days..." And an ear to a irrelevant subject she could bear through. A conservative mentality led her to survey the event:
These fledglings for the emergency crew consisted of mainly males, and so were the lieutenants in the back exchanging names with them. The bright red-head was first to speak, then a dauntless African-American, then...
Him.
She felt her scarlet eyes nearly bulge out as she rotated back-to-back against the stone pillar, pitting herself away from the congregation. That ongoing intro's every sentence sent a frisson down her spine; a numb spell proceeded after the source of horror passed. On the verge of breaking down from panic in the corner, she resorted to escape. The wide gate-like doors of the ward would normally take a minute to pull open, but in her circumstance, there was no lag.
Maria, the only one conceiving who flew the coop in that heartbeat, was in a soundless shock as the others pondered over the ruction. It wasn't even time for the kid to head to the diagnostician. And the guys here shouldn't freak him out despite the misunderstanding from the other bullies last morning. She replied a feeble 'I don't know' when hearing from another murmur, "What was that about?"
She was irritated by the infinite repeats of those words. "Everyone...Don't worry, I'm sure it was nothing." A straightforward bluff, and one she'll resolve later. "Darnell, hurry and wrap it up." Nurse Sellers, the other wild card in the group with his sky blue sweater, nodded as the crowd settled. He opened with his regards to the formation of new employees.
The last paramedic to discount the occurrence was the third assistant— perhaps the youngest of the four. His obsidian hair naturally flowed to his right, and his incisive eyes together had an umber color under the radiance from the shafts in the room. He wore identical jackets as his associates, with average wrinkled tan shorts and a t-shirt. A metal, clip-like earring was located on his right ear, if one must find a defect in his normality. This man, about in his mid to late twenties, had a bland composure; remaining unspoken for the rest of the conference.
Only after did he came forward with his concerns. "Dr. Torres, who was back there?"
The forewoman wasn't anticipating so, and uttered, "Kev-? Uh...that was just a volunteer of mine. I'll be talking to him later." She placed a hand on the back of her bob cut, using humor to flee from the progression of the matter, "The kid must have been spooked of something back there, heheh..." What was the root of the fright was what she'd have to cypher out.
"Spooked? The jacket wouldn't be on him then." In a abrasive yet sedated approach of a disagreement, he left Dr. Torres alone in the ward, stumped. "Don't forget I need to leave early today, doctor."
The word 'ruthless' shot through her thoughts and made her doubt his job before she arrived back to her scrapped belief that the child was fearless. "(Wonder if he saw a ghost...)" The apprentice was tormented by something alright, something outside what she knew. And she does know a ghost; the one a meter in front of her. "You're still around..?" This woman was the gifted person who could see it. "Something bad going to happen next?" Rosalia Rossellini's curse was to warn her, whether it was a crashing bus or a deadly disease. "Why can't you just find peace...?" The 'disease' part of it all was supposed to be the end...
Being a hologram, the soul's red ribbons, hair, and dress were still in their drift. The only movement was in her pink eyes, that lowered from the series of questions. Her voice was tender yet haunting, "Help..." Before one could shout back, she evaporated away like static on television.
"With what...? W-wait!"
There the lady was: alone again. She coughed out 'damn' from the wasted opportunity. Help who? Why? How...? Trumpeting to herself with the infinite possibilities, she skipped out on the spirit's second transmission— reduced to a whisper, "...the..m..."
"I don't know how to further...extol your talents. That was an impressive display, doctor." An endoscopic surgeon wearing a cerise, flower-themed kimono clapped mellowly as CR-SO1 withdrew from the operating table. The first procedure of the day turned out to be one that tested not only him, but also the combination of the nurses and Tomoe, who noted, "I must acknowledge the cooperation of the rest of the us as well, today's trial was...intensive."
The specialist breathed out before replying, "It was." The rejoicing in the peanut gallery he was unresponsive to. With his gloves disposed of and final comment given, he traversed to the exit, about to part until a 'wait doctor' occluded him.
She had a weighted conscience while asking, "I...had something to discuss with you. It's about your stay here." It was lifted when he revolved away from the way out. "You are allowed... to visit the patients." Her smile wasn't exactly gleeful, but it wasn't too bare, either. The words coursed on, "I'm sure it will raise their spirits. It isn't mandatory, but many choose to." Even so, it served little. The man skewed his chin to a side, an involuntariness surpassing his 'I will consider that.' He had no comment afterward.
A shred of dignity felt misplaced as the woman gave him a soft 'see you later.' It was general knowledge that he was pronounced a mass-murderer. Those with the knowledge that he was a victim of framing: a handful. Crude it may have been if she verbally cited the contradiction to her advice. But almost a decade had elapsed; surely the people have cooled down by now?
"Dr. Tachibana?"
Overlapping her hands cursorily, she wheeled around. "Yes?" There stood a nurse left behind from the brigade that had transferred the patient to a room; she had called for the doctor twice already. A vapid apology was offered before Tomoe was told her station as the lead in an operation was due in two hours. "You're right. I'll be leaving now."
The departures of the surgeons spanned five minutes apart.
Distraught over an option he declined so obscurely, the convict traveled to an intersection of hallways, a short walk or so away from his office. Retaining an assurance of his decision, he sighed. Impartially.
Who would want to see him? A meeting would only inflict disappointment— a warped feeling of thanks to the facility. His conviction may be stripped from him, but the notoriety...This was his scar for life, and he knew it. Plus he has a fresh new thorn in him to worry about.
For real.
It wasn't a exactly a spike of any sort, but a person on the polished floor of an inlet, to the left of him. "Why are you here..?" It was that girl. She had a crumpled jacket sliding down her shoulders; it was indistinguishable to an acquaintance. "Were you with Maria?" He had two justifications why to not ask: one, she was mute. By definition, excavating for an answer meant squandering time. And two, that paramedic wouldn't forsake a child. Hotheadedness was not the case, for Maria did accept, openly, to have some custody over her. To be frank, he had long presumed that they would be friends...
'Erhard' had her back propped to a door. A knee was bent and the other leg flat on the ground; her arms cradling her head that stooped to rest on that knee. From this, CR-SO1 saw a third factor that surfaced, locking him in place. Emanating from the teen's statue-like position was a dismal feeling, so dark that it seemed impossible to dispel. "What's wrong? Was there a fight?" He had yet to heed the uselessness of interrogation.
She huffed out before pulling her head back, minimal eye contact as she did. The ignominy of acting like she encountered a ghost created a vindictive blaze in her eyes, which the specialist translated into...a meaning that had always alienated him from the staff of the hospital. She couldn't have came upon it so quickly. Unless she had seen the...
Unknowing of him, she was thinking differently.
The apathetic orphan, who appeared to retaliate at any given chance, realized her behavior being too hostile. She crossed her arms with an obstinate attitude, threatening with a 'I'm fine so just leave me alone' look. Yes, something mortified her, but it didn't have anything to do with that doctor. Watching him wordlessly retreat and leave, she pouted over getting found, but then blanked out at something else. Something was weird— how could he be so understanding and just go? She detected a contrite thickness in the air and found the energy to get up. Maybe the guy would explain if she dropped by.
About to step out of the niche she was in, her memory stumbled onto a fragment of what that green-eyed woman had said once before: He was 'the prisoner.'
That guy...what was his crime?
And was trailing him...a bad idea?
He doesn't know why he keeps at it. Yesterday afternoon the boy wasn't there, this morning he made another attempt, with a suave arrival too, but the kid keeps eluding him. So he told RONI to jot down that the he didn't want the treatment. But this machine, complicating his job in every aspect, said the runaway's consent to refuse the help was imperative to delete him from Chief's deadening list of chores. Now...
"I got you another operation." Before thrusting a folder of client data to the specialist, Gabriel readied to impart with a few pointers on the procedure, "It's should be an easy one. Esha says either Hank or Maria is gonna be there to assist." He had a no-big-deal shrug and sent the file flying to the desk, where he noticed the tracker band on the surgeon's wrist as the man put a hand over the paperwork. 'Master of Deduction' saw a bad mood emerging from a mile away, but it compelled him push further into the matter than back out. "Hey kid, you angry at something?" He just hoped it wasn't him.
CR-SO1, whose lab coat was hung up behind the door, squinted at his closing hand and blurted back, "N-nothing. Thank you." He forced back the wobbly voice and exerted a solid one, "Anything else?" His glance curved to the window from the papers, not too keen on facing the visitor.
"No. I...guess I'll be going." Dr. Cunningham grumbled in a smug way. Too sluggish to just slip on out, he freely referenced to another painstaking ordeal, "Since I mentioned Maria already...if you see her with that girl..." He muttered the rest while being met with a sketchy silence. "Looking for me..." It was not at all comfortable to beg, "You don't mind...um, taking her in, do you? So far she hates my guts, so..." Past-experience with a youngster close to beating him up was a nightmare worth reporting, but as a gentleman of his word, he couldn't blow the whistle on her...yet.
An alliance seemed sensible at this point, so the man called a truce with worthwhile conditions, "How 'bout this: I'll guarantee that you'll have enough operations to kill the jail time, and...I'll fetch a lunch for the little princess. All you gotta pitch in... is to keep her busy. Find her some work." Though the diagnostician would love to take advantage of that himself, giving a mute a horrible agglomeration of assignments she'll never complete was abuse whichever way you saw it. "Actually, you won't need to. Just don't tell Esha this, or else we got a problem."
His request was so assertive that there wasn't really a need for the other's agreement. "Sound's square to me. Later." He motioned backward as he strolled out, luxuriating in the productive outcome. The one with the short end of this bargain was the specialist.
"What? Hey—" The terms of this 'deal' soon drew the surgeon's attention, but it was too late to be pointed out. The extent of it was never specified, which only comes down to one thing: "Dammit...that means..." It wasn't just for today.
Sadly, that was when Erhard staggered into his office; at first peeping from outside of the door then weaving her way in with a gawky so-I-thought-I'd-pass-by-since-I-really-had-nothing-else-to-do face. Most of that was speculation. Rubbing her temples with a sunny yet excusatory grin, it seemed as if she blundered into a pitfall, and had shown up dingily to some formal celebration. Whatever the case, the doctor seated in front of her wasn't able to...relate. He watched her tiptoe to the back of the room, setting down the humiliation and putting forth a (controlled) high-and-mighty charisma.
"Hold up— I forgot something." Gabriel reappeared at the doorway with his notation, and had a snicker in his delight to see the co-worker excited to start. "I didn't say you had to get to it right away...That was fast." Not letting the man mouth a word back, he said to the girl, "Well, this is easy. If you see your friend anywhere, can you get him to talk to me?" The teen pretended not to listen, but Dr. Cunningham was sure the message was spread without discrepancy. "I'll see you later then, kid." He was out as quick as he chimed in.
The surgeon had a vehement hush; he would have to weather through that doctor's manner of doing things. He skimmed the requested appointment, alleviated that the outline of the procedure contained a mere three sentences. What had had left to cope with was...her. "So...was there a reason to coming here?" For a former college student, getting on top of the schedule was the way to go. In this, he was a bit shy of plans.
She, with the notice on her supporter gliding by, reverted her quirky glint from the window to him. Her idea was to pick up on some info she apparently missed... someway. The perked up personality of hers was tamed as soon as he asked, "Why don't you go back to your room? I don't have a job for you..." But a stronger resilience developed inside her when that disobedient, bossy self found the weak link in his dictation: he asked 'why.' The mute indicated she was teeming with arguments as she reserved a crafty smirk, but the thought of bugging him withered away when the man spoke again, "I assumed you would've done so earlier when I saw you in the hall."
With the flustered teenager put down, the adult's modesty subsided and he alternated back to the intricately engraved desk, which really belonged to a home office more than anywhere else. Studying the registered operation, he fumbled onto the key piece of information: it was at one o' clock. Now was eleven-thirty. It didn't call for algebra to calculate how long the interval was.
A thud resonated in the back, and the specialist slowly twisted halfway in the seat, one palm still positioned on the edge of the clipboard. His visitor was in that nook from when she first breached this room, the swagger restricted to a solitary contentment. To the doctor, her tenaciousness and independent entrance had a profound meaning...that she was snooping about for something. And the orphan had already fell quiet, perhaps inferring how arduous that would be.
"How long ago—" Initiating a conversation was illogical, but he went on regardless, "Since you...lost your parents?" He foreseen a numerical reply using fingers; instead a shower of stomps punishing the floor complied. "What?" Misery he had perceived but—
The cascade of beats was decelerated for him to count.
Eight.
The units could have been months or years. He converted it to the latter straightaway, as that point in history aligned up with another in his past. "Eight years? Did they..." It was that instant when one recollection had crept up to him: the grim mountain of corpses and their hollowed eyes that encircled him on the tiled floor of Cumberland College. In that monstrous massacre, how many families were severed and decimated..?
...
"There's one survivor! Over here!"
The police had discovered him in his daze and surrounded him holding firearms up, ordering 'don't move.' In the pandemonium, he met Ian Holden, whose noiseless rage rippled across the lobby that appeared to be a death chamber. It wasn't until a while ago before the Rosalia outbreak did the convict learn the real reason why this agent wasn't able to answer when he asked, "What happened to everyone here?"
"You...murdered them." He also didn't know back then that 'them' included this detective's wife and child; that was why Ian had no hesitation in branding him the killer and not a victim. Those shades closed off all internal emotion, maybe even veiling tears from being seen. "Every last one in the building." The incriminating voice had been tainted with arising bursts of indignation.
"I...did..?" Those were the student's last words, disillusioned with the cold-blooded truth. He was chained and escorted out savagely, all that welcomed him was the heresy of glistening, sunny skies accompanied with eyes of resentment on the ground.
...
The surgeon's view of the same blue sky was obstructed by a girl. She hunched over to face him, almost raring for him to keep talking. "It's nothing. I'm sorry to hear that." She unbent her posture with an offended incredulity in her scarlet eyes. He choked out to defend, "I don't have any family left either..." Erhard paused, then slumped next to the man's desk. Never has her resiliency failed; now that its streak was discontinued, she could only rivet in the discussion bound to meet its demise.
"You are aware that I was charged for...manslaughter." The device on his right wrist was in open air, but its importance was minuscule. "Of dozens." She didn't see it.
Erhard didn't shrink from the harsh fact. Honestly, she didn't accept anything from the charge. Its not just what that paramedic had said, but the character of this condemned man. If he's a psychopath doctor that could take a life without a care in the world, then he wouldn't be stuck watching her, much less even be here. And if that was not enough, one could add that she had struck out at him. Almost twice.
"You're not...afraid?"
Her spirits spiked up and she raised her head with a 'you're kidding' expression. CR-SO1 had an unsurprised composition that was shaken, but not enough to shift his view. What was the perspective of a child in comparison with the remainder of the nation? Looking off to the door, he grunted, "That can't be true. What if I were to—" He wanted to use a counterexample, that was, until two clicks and a slamming sound disrupted him. "What are you doing?"
There the girl was. Perched on the ledge of the window as if she was going to jump.
He, not taking any chances, instantly pulled her down to the floor. "You're out of your mind-!" She had a prankish grin from the accusal after the landing. When the he latched the glass panel closed, the concept that he was on the first floor smacked him hard. So hard, he was in denial. "You didn't just...This isn't a place for playing games. This is a hospital..." The adolescent didn't take any of the outpouring personally; she crossed her legs, waiting for a particular reaction.
For him, it was a matter of seconds. He sighed. That was an experiment on reliance. "All of that wasn't necessary..." Not interested if the results were favorable, he steeped down to the chair. This kid was willing to go the extremes; a blooming hope showed on her when she detected tiny signs of laughter obscured in his annoyance. The sagging EMT jacket was taken off and became an excuse for a exit. Permission wasn't granted, yet she took off. "Hey— where are you..."
As the 'inactive' volunteer winded through the building, a prosperous feeling came to her. Though tricking a guy alleged as a felon was pretty mean, she got her points through him. Anyways, that niche she caved herself in earlier didn't vanish anywhere...
A fuse seemed to break as her zealous nature inflated. If only it did.
A/N:
Aargh. The stress really is showing up in the writing, isn't it? *sighs*
OC: Is this a record? A month...and about two weeks? (Not counting, but felt like it...) Imagine the next update.
About that... I pretty sure there may be fluff and a little running around...eh. This was my shortest chapter so far since I really didn't plan on much. (still, reviews would be awesome..!) I'm going to need to bring my A-game on the next chappy...and the math test...oh crap. I forgot...
OC: Hope your readers are patient...I'm considering asking other TT characters to join this fascinating chat...
Please don't have Maria go first. *gulps*