I suck at this fanfic thing, :(\
I'm trying to keep my promise of updating on Wednesday's but unfortunately last week was a bust. My apologies. This week you're in for a surprise….
TWO UPDATES AT ONCE!
This update is a bit exaggerated on some ends, but mostly factual. HG fans this is a bittersweet. Be prepared.
Thanks for reviews! AND new Follows!
SNATCH
Day Three – 10:43 A.M. AMERICA
"…Resources have stated that British Officials have issued an alert along the continents border and are monitoring travel. All civilians traveling in or out of the country will be searched for either proofs of—"
Click
" …two days missing Heiress. There is a reason to believe that Myka Bering is still alive and possibly being held for ransom––"
Click Click
"…Officials aren't saying exactly what was discovered inside of the building to allude to the heiress's current wellbeing, but considering the discovery wasn't grisly- we can all still hope for the––"
Click
"…press conference this evening and again tomorrow at noon. Warren Bering and his wife, Jeannie, will speak out for the first time since the alert. Again, if the heiress is spotted she is a 5'7" Caucasian brun––"
Off.
HG tossed the remote sideways across the bed and plopped backwards into the pillow. The news was giving her a headache.
"Dr. Orzo to the Nurses Station, calling Dr. Orzo,"
The would-be captor rolled her eyes to the door. Instead of placing her in the waiting room, they rushed her directly to admittance. That was six hours ago. There was a curtain blocking her line of vision and all she could see were the handles of a wheelchair poking out the area behind it. She could hear the beep of a monitor and a ventilation tubing system. As of now, she had yet to see her roommate's face and she was partially curious as to who the man, or woman, was beyond the curtain.
Footsteps entered the room and she heard the sound of someone flipping a page inside of a clipboard. HG braced herself for the intruder. Her arms were already sore from the many blood withdrawal's she had received, she wasn't anticipating anymore.
"Ms. Lake, you're awake,"
HG raised her eyes to the voice of the older woman and relaxed.
Dr. Calder was a fading image of a once beautiful woman. HG tried to imagine her in her earlier years, breaking hearts with her appearance and baffling, as well as upsetting, all of her male counterparts with her intelligence. The thought caused the sides of her mouth to quirk into a slight smirk. Had this been another time or place, perhaps she would've tried to best the doctor. Perhaps even tried to seduce her.
"So how are we feeling today?"
The dark haired woman huffed and raised her hand.
"Apart from this morning's horrible tea, quite well thank you very much."
Dr. Calder chuckled as she drew closer to examine her. She pulled out a small light which she shined in both of her eyes then gestured for HG to allow her to check her heart with a stethoscope.
"No headache?"
"No."
"Any nausea?"
"No."
"Did you have any strange dreams or hallucinations?"
"Mhmm, not that I recall. What is your definition of strange?"
The older woman shook her head, the corner of her lip was up.
"Your vitals are much better today, the nurses did a good job with observing you last night."
HG didn't say anything she simply bridged her fingers together. These were the same questions they asked her last night. Nothing's changed much since. The doctor pulled a chair close to her bedside and laid the clipboard across her lap. Her brown eyes fixated onto HG were full of concern. If the doctor was going for comforting, it was a total fail, the younger woman felt a prickly urge to flee.
"I'm certain you already know what I want to talk about so I'm just going to dive in here,"
There was a beat.
"Your nosebleeds, how long have you been having them?"
Again, HG was silent. The doctor couldn't tell whether she was withholding information or simply didn't have an answer. Undeterred, Dr. Calder forged on.
"Nosebleeds are quite common on and after a flight, Ms. Lake. However, it's the severity of your nosebleed coupled with a seizure that's really concerning us,"
"High altitudes can cause seizures," HG countered.
"Nice try but not likely," Dr. Calder's smile faded slightly, "Planes these days are pressurized. Most people that suffer epilepsy or frequent seizures can fly just fine without worrying about it serving as a trigger."
At the memory of the incident, HG grimaced.
She had bit her tongue during the episode and nearly tore through the tip. The wound was deep enough that she had received five stitches. They were comfortable with only a hint of soreness.
"But they do occur," HG said. She knew she was being difficult. The patient doctor only shook her head.
"Something tells me that you're a lot more intelligent than this Ms. Lake,"
HG blanked her face.
The doctor raised her clipboard and took out a pen. She scribbled in a note that HG couldn't see then spoke, "Did you suffer any nosebleeds on the plane?"
"No, I was perfectly fine."
That was a lie.
"Did you see an aura perhaps?"
HG blamed it on the migraine she had prior to boarding the plane. Ever since she was released from the hospital after the assault, she had suffered intense headaches. The doctors had told her then that there was something to worry, but HG blew it off. As long as she was still breathing, she felt nothing else really mattered.
HG sighed, "I'm not very sure, I see things all the time doctor."
Dr. Calder nearly dropped her clipboard as she gave the younger woman a double take. HG apologetically waved her hands and hurriedly spoke.
"Joking, joking. No, but seriously. I'm fine, fit as a whistle as you would say. I just forgot to take my medication before I got onto the plane."
The doctor quirked her brow and pulled up the chart, "What medication?" the doctor adjusted her reading glasses to decipher the scrawled notations.
"It says here you mentioned only taking Aspirin,"
Darn it.
"Oh, it was just a little medication for the seizures, it's what I get from my regular doctor back in my homeland."
Dr. Calder lowered the clipboard, "Does this doctor have a name? I really would like to speak with him or her, perhaps we could share a few notes."
Bloody hell!
"Uh, his name was Dr. Humphrey. I don't remember his first name though, we're not on that type of basis. It's more or less a "hi" and "bye" type of checkup when I go to his appointments."HG leaned towards Dr. Calder, "You Americans won't really get it, it's a British thing."
"Oh really?"
The doctor didn't seem convinced, HG's charming smile only seemed to make things worse.
"Ms. Lake, even if you are uncomfortable about something in your medical history it is perfectly normal. I promise I will respect your confidentiality as a patient but also as an individual––
The doctor was interrupted by the chirping tone of a pager. Dr. Calder reached into her coat pocket and removed the device. Giving it a quick read, her eyes widened slightly.
"Please excuse me Ms. Lake, I'm wanted in the ER."
Dr. Calder stood and closed the clipboard.
"I'm scheduling you for another MRI. When the neurologist gets in, we will continue this discussion. Until then, if you want or need something press the red button on that remote and a nurse will be here to service you."
Just as Dr. Calder went to draw back the curtains, HG's voice rose from the bed.
"How long?"
The words were soft and sad like. The doctor turned to meet her new patient's eyes. Now that HG's veil of confidence was gone, her face was stricken.
"How long what?" Dr. Calder asked.
"How long do you expect me to stay here?" Before the doctor could reply, HG further elaborated. "I'm from overseas, and my insurance is limited, I doubt it covers most of these test let alone several day's worth of-
The woman held up her hand and HG drew to a silence. Dr. Calder's wise eyes brightened as she gave HG yet another reassuring smile.
"Not a word, you're on our soil now. We'll talk about the billing when the tests are done. So just take it easy. I'm sending a nurse to check in on you in an hour, if you want, call your daughter and we can see what we can do about sending an officer to bring her to you."
With that, Dr. Calder turned heel and exited through the curtain. HG was at a loss for words as she listened to the doctors footsteps cross the threshold back into the hallway.
She's kind. Too kind.
HG thought. On the intercom another name was called and there was a flurry of footsteps in the hall followed by silence. The lack of sound gave her an eerie feeling.
Now what are you going to do Wells?
HG knew she was feeling worst than usual on the plane, but she blamed it on their mission. If she was to be honest, she was never a person to suffer from nerves. In fact, it was her having "nerves of steel"- as the twins used to joke- that made her the best out of all of the researchers at the facility. But that was ages ago. Before her first death.
Perhaps she was losing her touch?
When she had stabilized from the seizure, the first thing HG thought was that she was grateful that she hadn't fallen in front of her hostage and young associate. She was in her weakest state during the episode and highly doubted that Claudia would've handled seeing her like that and as for the heiress…HG really didn't want to suffer under any more of her curious stares and pity filled glances.
The second thing HG did was answer her disposable phone. There was only one person in the entire world who knew that number and even more, she already knew why they were calling. It was hard trying to get the medics to allow her to take the call but a little fib scored her a pass.
"It's my daughter!"
"Should we send an officer to escort her along?"
"No, she's a teenager. She knows her way around,"
She was only seconds into the call when she heard the redhead's voice. Claudia was furious. HG didn't have the heart to tell the young woman where she was or what happened but she did it anyway.
"I fainted, they're taking me to the hospital."
Ok, so maybe that was her second fib for the evening.
Despite the reason being not nearly as severe as the actual ailment, the redhead still was frightened. HG heard her voice as it shook on the other end.
"That's really, really bad. Ok. I got it. Just…just hurry up, ok?
Claudia never mentioned the heiress, so HG figured things were running smoothly with them. If it were, that meant one less thing for her to worry about and that their mission could continue on as planned. She'll just label this incident as the crook in the road.
How long will you keep up this charade Helena?
Instead of answering herself, HG slipped out of the bed onto the floor. She was in a hospital gown and her feet were bare. On the linoleum floor, her toes felt frozen. The dark woman crossed over to the bin at the foot of her bed and pulled out a plastic bag with a hazard sticker on the front. It was her clothes. Her shirt and pants were ruined, they were spotted with blood. Looking at it now she realized it was a lot more blood than even she remembered.
"Whoa, that's a gusher!"
The memory of a young man's exclamation coupled with the paramedic's gentle but firm hands as they guided her onto a stretcher. Now that she thought about it, despite it being gory there were several onlookers. For all she knew someone probably had been filming the incident and posted it on the internet somewhere.
The inventor breath hitched as she ran a finger over the soiled fabric. There was no way she was going to get those stains out.
And that was my favorite shirt too.
HG poked her head around the curtain and spied her guest. There was a young woman slightly older than Claudia fast asleep. She had tubes linking from her nose and wrist. From the collection of "Get Well" cards and fuzzy bears on the nightstand, HG assumed she must've been in the hospital for quite some time now. This observation led to an even bigger one on her part. They hadn't just placed her in an overnight ward, they were looking forward to her staying for several days.
HG tipped past the slumbering girl and went towards the closet against the wall. When she opened it she discovered a shelf of fresh linen and coarse towels. She thought hope was lost until she spied a small bag nestled on the very bottom shelf. The captor picked it up and discovered that there was a navy blue tracksuit and a pair of lime green sneakers.
The entire outfit was not her style but it was enough. She quickly pulled on the clothes and shoved her discarded gown into the waste basket. She checked the bag again and discovered a wallet with a twenty bill, some credit cards and an ID. As she pocketed all of these goods, on the opposing side of the room, the girls pulse fluttered and the monitor beeped. HG glanced over her shoulder to her roommate.
"I'll return them," she whispered, "Promise."
Coincidentally, girl's heart returned to normal. HG stepped closer to the nightstand and took one of bear's bows. This she used to tie up her hair into a ponytail. Just before leaving the room, HG peeked the chart at the foot of the girls bed.
Lucinda Sewall -Age 23- DOB-5/12/1990- Ailment- HEAD INJURY
Emergency Contact- David Hansen (407)859-2369 Relation- Uncle
It didn't seem like much, but it could come in handy. Storing the information, HG's eye's flickered over to the clock and it read 11:16 am.
She was on time.
The writer didn't feel at all out of place amongst the patrons in the grimy bar. The recession did a number on this part of New York. You would think without a job to fill their pockets, this place would've been empty, but in fact it was in full gear.
A tubby man with a hairy chest wearing nothing but a leathery vest was standing behind the counter wiping out glasses with a brown spotted towel. His eyes were fixated on the blaring tv screen across the room. It wasn't football, it was the ponies.
Someone had done the honors of using a sharpie to write the word "TIPS" on a jar on the center of the counter. It was filled with pennies and condoms. HG took a spot across from this, her eyes vaguely interested in the story of the jar. When the commercials cut into the race, the bartender finally gave her his full attention. He looked her over and spat off the side of his mouth. She wondered whether or not it hit the floor.
"Hugo?" HG said.
The bartender's eyes flickered to the backdoor. Smirking, HG laid a ten across the countertop and took a tumbler of gin. She crossed from the table and entered the arch leading to the dungeons.
At this point of the journey most women probably would be clutching their selves for fear of rape or murder in an area like this. For the writer, she looked to the discomfort as added character, a shady place with filled with shadier people.
"Hugo" was a smuggler who ran a ring underneath the bar. It was cliché as most "secret" organizations got but unlike it's contesters, it actually had top notch ratings. Hugo's Basement was a name whispered amongst those looking for a bite of black market, and particularly wears that dealt with animal trading, illicit gambling, and abnormal sex. It was an underground Walmart of the sorts.
Entering the room, HG dumped the tumbler into a plant beside the door and handed the glass to a thug hanging on the wall. From there she swept her eyes across the space. Hugo was seated at a table eating a platter of cookies with milk. He was a much older man, in his late sixties to mid seventies with wiry white hair, and he was wearing fuzzy bunny slippers with blue flannel pajamas. The first time HG met him she didn't believe he was her contact, and she dismissed him with a laugh and a threat of brute force if she wasn't faced with the real smuggler. After a truffle dinner and three board games later (Chess, Battleship, Chutes and Ladders), she realized he was merely an eccentric.
"I took good care of it for you," Hugo said in greeting.
Without responding, HG took a seat at the table. It was hard earning her trust but there was something honest about the quirky man. A duffel bag was laid flat across the table in front of her. It was hers she'd given him for safe keeping.
"Just in case the FED's decided to case this place, we sent it around the world on a grand tour."
Her hands paused mid unzipping. She looked to the smuggler in askance.
"Don't worry, my most trusted man did the trick," Hugo's mouth curved at the word, it seemed dirty, "He's missing his prick and doesn't speak a lick of English, he's mute."
It wasn't the state of the man that ensured her, it was suspecting how he got that way that did. HG opened the bag.
Everything was how she had left it.
"Calvorite,"
The dark woman's eyes lit up as she traced her finger across the top of encased compound in admiring. The quicksilver surface was cool to touch and seemed to vibrate slightly. Hugo looked on in mild interest provoking the woman to elaborate.
"If used correctly, it counteracts gravity. Wrong, it could lead to a series of unfortunate implosions."
Hugo leaned all the way back in his chair.
"We had a chemist in the basement, he tried working some of his magic to recreate that stuff using your notes,"
HG abruptly raised her head, "He was successful?"
"I said tried not succeeded," Hugo's face took on a nasty grimace. "He blew half of his head off in the process. Brain spaghetti all over the ceiling and floor, it took the boy's weeks to get all of the equipment clean."
The writer's eye's briefly clouded over, only to be quickly replaced with a cruel smirk.
"Excellent,"
Hugo nodded his head in agreement.
"Thought you would've enjoyed that," The smuggler struck up a finger as if he had just remembered something important, "Oh, and I got that other thing you wanted,"
It was here that HG's demeanor shifted to serious. She was alert and her gaze matched onto the peculiar crime boss.
"Show me."
At once, the smuggler stood and directed her deeper into the den. In passing, there was a mini restaurant, an area that led to a pool, and a full section dedicated to hotel like rentals.
How much did they fit down here?
No matter how many times she came, she always wondered. Hugo's footman opened a door that led to the back of the kitchens. When she was led to a freezer, Hugo himself warily smiled at her and drew aside so that she could enter first. Instead of the room housing food, it was filled with body bags. From the notation hanging off of tags on each of the bags, it appeared to be sorted by system.
"Caucasian, curly brunette hair, and green eyes," Hugo recited the description as if he were checking off a grocery list, his footman scurried into a section HG figured housed all of the bodies of brunette women. A minute of wait and a table was wheeled towards her with a nude woman lying across it. Her face was grey and her lips blue. She had to been dead for a few days, maybe two or three.
"The shoe fits doesn't it?"Hugo said.
He looked to HG expectantly. His expression was so dutiful, one would've thought she was his boss. HG leaned closer to the dead girls face.
"Her nose isn't quite right," she said.
"I can fix that for you,"
Hugo's hand went to pick up a hammer that was lying on a tray. HG's eyes flashed and she held up a palm stopping him.
"No, no, it's fine,"
Minus the fault, the woman looked so much like the stolen heiress, HG found herself staring at her. Morbid curiosity churned inside of her brain.
"Where did you find her?"
"She's one of Nicky's, apparently an OD, bad for her, lucky for you. I've never gotten a body this fresh without killing it myself."
This news of how the woman died surprised her. HG examined the woman. Her skin was clear, her hair even held sheen. Had she not been lacking a pulse she would've thought she was fast asleep.
"She doesn't look like a druggie?" HG commented.
Hugo noisily coughed into his fist, "Well you know the game, more difficult they are- the more dope they get. Someone just gave her more than she could handle."
HG noted a pinprick in the forearm of the dead girl. It was bluish and could've passed for a bug bite.
"So she was a newbie?"
"More than likely."
It was a dark business but after living on the fringe for nearly a year, HG had immune herself to it. She placed her hand on the cold woman's forehead and gently stroked her hair. Though she looked very much alive, she surly didn't feel it. Death did something strange to the body. HG removed her hand and turned to the smuggler. Her face was resolute.
"Dump her in the river."
NOTES:
*if that's your phone number it's purely coincidence. completely off the top of my head.*