On Call |Elizabeth Naarc|

[Corbin Kettil (DELETED 4316)]

Faint lights glimmer off the tile floors in the dark hallways of this hospital. Corbin, having been an intern for a short amount of time, is sitting in the on-call room. This is his first night being such (on call). Sleep, not going to happen, he’s sure of it. So the human is sure that there is no reason for him to bother. His fingers move through his hair and he leans his head back against the wall. The seating and furniture in this room, like most rooms in hospitals, is just enough to look appropriate. In all reality it’s silver gilded crap with vomit inside that’s infested with flesh eating parasites. This is why the long haired man often refrains from rooms of patients that are not ‘his’, though technically none of the people are his responsibility. This is because error found done by him, falls on the shoulders of the surgeon over him. So, he just sits, remembering the last person that came in. It wasn’t that big of a problem, amputation of a forearm. The kid that had come in had been in a car accident, arm nearly ripped off. Corbin rethinks over the tear, not cut, that the arm sustained. It ripped at the elbow, a **** way to lose a limb.

The door opens, more than the crack that he had made, but there is no one standing there. Staring into the empty space that the door reveals, past it to the other side of the hallway, Corbin finally shakes it off. Every now and then he gets this feeling that something is watching him, or someone. Being a man with the strong belief of science, he has hardly ever had the belief in spirits or ghosts. On the other hand, there is really no other way to describe that feeling that he gets when he’s alone sometimes. That feeling that he’s not really alone at all, and since he came to Harpers Rock for his internship that feeling has become more and more prevalent no matter where he is. Sometimes, he swears he’s not the only one. He’s been in parts of town and hears things about spirits and people calling them. He assumes this to be just some sort of ******** séance that people have claimed to do for ages. This, of course, is just one of the many things that have brought him to the conclusion that this city isn’t completely right for him. Come the soonest opportunity (career wise) he will be taking himself somewhere else.

Finally, removing himself from the chair, he moves through the threshold of the door. The chill makes the hair on his neck stand on end as if he has just been shocked. Once both feet are in the hallway, he stands there like a deer in the headlights and looks both ways for a moment. It’s been quiet since the kid with the ripped arm, oddly quiet. In the distance, past the walls, along the streets, he can hear the sound of sirens. An ambulance is on the way which means that he might have another case on his hands. He’s found out, since being here, that even bullet wounds come down on surgeons rather than physicians. Turning down the hall, walking toward where the ambulance will bring the person, possibly corpse, when it gets here. He waits, leaning forward and watches the doors for the team of paramedics, and the gurney with the ‘patient’. He has a look of disinterest in his eyes, just looking past the desk, past the doors, past the outside to somewhere else, almost hearing a voice again.

[Elizabeth]

The woman had taken a shortcut through the sewers from the catacombs, which was her first mistake. Usually, Elizabeth takes the train to Cherrydale, then heads right in to the catacombs. Tonight, however, she needed a few ritual ingredients and with her thrall busy else where in the city, Elizabeth decided to get her own hands and clothes dirty. The woman turned a corner and saw two people. Paladins. If she turned around, she would have to go all the way through the catacombs, then the mausoleum and time was of the essence tonight. No, she would go through them.

Elizabeth wasn't a fan of the Paladins, not since one of them broke in to her family home and assaulted her right as she was leaving the city to go on her honeymoon. It had essentially ruined her honeymoon because the woman's head wound didn't have her in the right state of mind and Shamus ended up taking care of his wife, more than enjoying the presence of his wife. Or, at least that was Elizabeth's opinion. With her back close to the wall, in an attempt to avoid any attacks and to make her way past them quickly. Elizabeth managed to avoid one assault, but not the other. A bullet pierced the wall behind her as she rolled around the corner of the sewer, while a flood of bullets pierced her stomach. Elizabeth grabbed the wall to steady her balance from the impact, before the woman grabbed a knife from the inside of her boot, her glock from the the holster around her other thigh and reacted. Bullets left the chamber of the gun, as the knife slashed out and gouged the male in the arm. It wasn't a death killing slice, as it was a small blade and she wasn't as trained with knife tactics as she once was. He however, was distracted by the sharp pain, just long enough for him to drop his own gun. The bullets from her glock hit his side and in a final attempt to kill his opponent, he charged at her. Elizabeth rolled out of the way, more bullets spewing forth, until the male was slumped over on the ground from two bullets piercing his heart.

Elizabeth closed her eyes as she focused on the wound, then groaned as she realized that this wound wouldn't be healed tonight. She had already healed one from a demi-fae from a ritual she had cast earlier in the evening and most, if not all her magical properties had been zapped up. The best bet was to get out of the sewers and quickly make her way back home, without anyone seeing her. Impossible? No. Difficult? Yes. With her gun and blade tucked away, the woman crawled up out of the sewers and decided to stay clear of the train station as best as she could. But, it wasn't good enough. "Oh my god! She's been shot!" A woman cried out in the crowd, causing other people to recognize her wounds. "Miss, miss." A male rushed to her side and shook her arm. "Are you alright, miss?" Elizabeth blinked and then looked around. "She's in shock. Give her room!" The male shouted to nearby onlookers. "Miss, do you know where you are? What's your name?" All the questions fell on deaf ears, because Elizabeth wasn't about to tell him any of those things. "I am fine. Honest." She mumbled and started to walk off from the man. Only he wasn't going to let her go. "Someone call 911!" Various phones were whipped out, some to help, some to hinder and take pictures of her and her wound, before Elizabeth realized she really had little choice. The woman toppled to her side and played possum. She would work things out once she wasn't crowded with so many humans around her.