Quatre started awake as a shrill ringing sounded through his bedroom. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and glanced at the bedside clock. Three-thirty in the morning. What the hell was going on? He grunted and reached over, flipping the switch to turn off the vidcom, figuring that the early morning caller most likely wasn't interested in looking at him in his boxers.
"Hello?" he croaked into the receiver.
"Quatre."
"Lady Une?" he said, surprised. He hadn't heard from the Preventers Commander in years. What was she doing calling him at this hour? "What's going on?"
"There's been an incident. Dorothy Catalonia has been wounded, potentially fatal."
Quatre sat up straight in his bed, adrenaline pumping through his veins and causing him to be instantly alert. "How potentially?"
"Very." Une wasn't known for beating around the bush, but he detected a note of sadness in her tone. "You'll find her at Memorial West Hospital in the surgery ward. Someone is waiting there for you."
He was about to hang up when he thought of something.
"Une, why'd you call me?"
But she was gone.