[b]Ranch House, Unknown Location[/b]

[i]Mina Aldridge was all of twenty-four, standing alongside a small class of others in white coats before a crowd of parents and friends. Their right hands sat upon an object of value or text of their choice- Mina's rested upon a worn bible. She had relaxed her hair for the occasion, and it was tied back into a neat, curled ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her childhood friend, Larke, was in the front row, smiling up at her. 

[color=#C4B14D]"Now, as a new doctor, I solemnly promise that I will to the best of my ability serve mankind-"[/color] A gunshot rang out in the crowd. Someone fell in the back, and more came running forward, trying to get away. [color=#C4B14D]"I- I will practice medicine with integrity, humility, h-honesty-"[/color] People were dying, trying to climb up onto the stage, clawing at her feet in their scramble to get away. She was unable to move as the bodies of Knights and Agents piled up higher than the edge of the platform. Oren Kovalenko was sprawled on top, staring up with open, glazed eyes. A figure was walking up the back aisle, firing pistol rounds at the people left alive, and brushing her hand over those who tried to run past her. Dawn, Soren, Reith, Dutch- All of them. Everyone she touched crumpled.

The woman- with honey brown eyes, thick, natural hair, and a Medical Division Knight's uniform- advanced. She grabbed Larke by the nape of his neck, and his body collapsed. There were hot tears pouring down Mina's face, dampening the collar of her white shirt. It stuck like bloodied dressings.

Just when she was near enough to make out her name badge, Kn. Mina Aldridge raised her gun, and pointed it between the young doctor's eyes. "I will [i]do no harm[/i]."[/i]

The Good Doctor awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and clutching the musty sheets beside her with white knuckles. Her head spun from the sudden jar of sitting bolt upright, and for a moment she felt she may vomit. But the sensation passed, and after a moment's glance around the dim, wood-boarded room, she could breath again. The twin bed beside hers was empty, and there was a pale light pouring through the windows to illuminate the swirl of dust motes. She shared the room with Reith, and though they typically awoke around the same hour, it seemed that Mina had slept in past her usual time. 

After grazing one hand over her chest to be positive there was no hole, she grabbed her cargo pants from the foot of the bed and pulled them on, followed by her sneakers on the floor. She unwrapped her hair before tying it back with an elastic, and was out the door and on her way into the kitchen to help with breakfast soon after. 

A voice in the office caught her eye before she could arrive, and she tapped the door open wider. [color=#C4B14D]Well, I'll be damned. Good morning, Mister Coleman!"[/color] she greeted, stepping into the room without the need for an invitation. She walked over to the boy and took his wrist in her hand to check his pulse, and placed the back of her hand against his head. [color=#C4B14D]"How're you feeling, sugar? Any pains, clouded vision- Oh, and morning to you too, Miss Dawn. I wasn't expecting to see Sleeping Beauty up and about- Hold that thought."[/color] She fished in her pocket for a pen, which she held up and slowly moved back and forth in front of Drake's eyes. [color=#C4B14D]"Follow this, but don't turn your head. And how was the watch, Dawn?"[/color]

[hr]

Meanwhile, in the attic, one Larke Sterling was having a considerably less chipper morning. Tied up with wire, he had spent the night trying to sleep while propped against a wall. His wings were crumpled at an odd angle, one having healed out of place following a break, and the other simply too large to fit in any normal position. His sandy hair was brown with blood and dirt, and stuck to his head with a sick, sticky texture. His captures did not care if he was clean; just alive. 

There were more than enough bats for company, and even more vague scuttling noises in the shadows to keep him from getting lonely.

But the morning light pouring through the cracked roof was hardly a relief. The sun brought heat, and Larke had been running a high fever for the past three days, spurred on by an overworked healing factor. Only two of them every came up to speak with him, but when they did, it took days to fully regenerate from what was done. They weren't afraid to break bones on him or puncture things too deep to even guess, though he had more than enough time alone to imagine. He was quite certain that they had hit his stomach, this past time, as his clothes were stained with the reek of bile. The acid had eaten away at his innards for hours before the wound closed, and even then, he doubted he could eat.

Not that they were particularly intent on feeding him anything past the thick towel shoved in his mouth.

He had told them what he knew about Hel, and about his and Oren's mission to rescue her. He had told them all that she was ill and needed to return for treatment. He pleaded for Oren's life, for the life of the girl, but his currency was no good to them. They thought he was lying, or perhaps thought that they could glean more truth by cutting him further. 

Or, what seemed most likely at this point, they just liked cutting him. 

It was the twenty-third morning with them, and the seventh in this place, wherever this was- and he was hearing things that didn't make sense. Oren was probably dead. Hel may have been dead. He didn't know if Mina had left, or died, or just didn't give a damn. 

And when the two who came grew bored, he would presumably die without knowing one way or the other.