[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wVi2mx3.jpeg[/img][/center]
[color=aqua][center][h2]Vasra Dermok[/h2][/center][/color]
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Slipping in through a half open door, Vasra breathed in the warm smell of beef broth soup. She smiled, surrounded as she was by rusted sheets of corrugated metal and pealing paint. It wasn't much. It wasn't enough. It never was. But...the soup kitchen was something. It was hope. Hope for a better future. Something, something to get help them make through the next moment and the next day. And in the Lower Ring, sometimes, sometimes that seemed like enough of a task for an army, much less a rag tag band of volunteers.

Rough, weary faces gazed softly at Vasra. She remembered their names. She remembered many of their troubles. She could hear the conversations shift. She made no effort to hide. She never did. She was a doctor. A doctor in the Lower Ring stood out. A doctor in the Lower Ring attracted attention. There was no point in avoiding it. 

She shook a hand offered to her and smiled at the bent old man, Zulon, she recalled, that grinned up at her. His leg was healing well she noted, her mind shifting to clinical matters, but the nerve damage would likely be permanent, and the iron worker would walk with a limp for the rest of his life.

"Doc," someone else murmured, and Vasra felt herself drawn into fierce hug. Most of the residents of the Lower Ring simply called her [i]Doc[/i]. Small hands pulled at her hair from within the embrace and Vasra's eyes met those of a small infant bouncing with glee secured in a fabric sling on his mother's chest. Wo Fang beamed and pulled Vasra closer, hugging her even more tightly.

"He looks well, very well! You both look very healthy," Vasra managed, finally escaping the hug as she buried a sob beneath a forced laugh, it had been a long night. Too long, and Wo Fang and the baby had barely survived. The three vials of Spirit Water had been worth it. Vasra did not care to recall the favors she had been forced to offer the triads. Healing one patient so that they could hurt another person in the near future and create another probable patient hardly seemed ideal. She chose to think of the lives she had saved instead. That much she could do, that selfishness she would permit herself.

Iyome approached her next, handing Vasra a cup of coffee. It was her habit. It was her way of say thanks. Vasra would have refused, but she knew better. The coffee would keep her going, it would keep her awake for a bit longer. Iyome would be pleased. The weaver had two hands thanks to Vasra. Mechanical looms were dangerous in the best of times and they were claimed hands without warning when the factory owner was pushing the workers to finish a fresh batch of RSF uniforms. It didn't matter how many times Vasra told her Iyome that she had simply done what any other doctor should have. That there wasn't any need to thank her.

Peering at the small crowd that had begun to encircle her, following in her wake, like fallen leaves caught in the current of a slow river. Vasra struck down the irritation she felt tugging at weary shoulders. She felt exhausted. She felt every hour she had been awake. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. But most of all, she wanted to sleep. Just for one night. Just for one whole night. Later. Some other time. Not now. Maybe in her next life.

A heavy slap that almost knocked her over, saved her from her flagging thoughts. Kelden, one time RSF soldier, now homeless veteran, muttered some unintelligible comment at Vasra before bursting into a fit of laughter. Few understood what he said anymore. But he had his moments. He had brief periods of clarity. Times when he seemed as he once had been. As he had been when Vasra had been a young child. His kindness had not been smashed along with the bridges of his mind. The car that ran him over remained a mystery. The driver unaccounted for and the vehicle found buried beneath a mountain of scrap metal. Vasra had tried to repair his mind. To restore his thoughts. She had managed only to reduce his suffering. She had restored only the faintest echoes of his former self. She could do no more. She had tried and that would have to be enough.

Swallowing down hurried gulps of coffee, Vasra continued. She felt an unwelcome sense of paranoia overwhelm her. She suspected someone was watching. Were they keeping score? Following her? She had heard the complaints from colleagues. Most thought her a fool. Some thought her too kind. And some she did not doubt, hated her. Reminding her illustrious colleagues of their humanity won her few favors. They did not relish their duty. They did not wish to be lectured by a wisp of a woman squandering her talent and income on an endless number of desperate patients. The feigned praise of her Upper Ring patients, her [i]clients[/i] as they preferred to be called, would not protect her for very long. Not if she got caught dealing in illegal Spirit Water. No matter what the reason. No matter the kindness behind her crimes.

Uninitiated in the ways of espionage, Vasra still knew enough to be discreet. She hid in plain sight. Acting the boundless optimist. Behaving as if she was beyond subterfuge. [i]I have nothing to hide[/i], she declared. [i]You know where to find me.[/i] She trusted Sonam, probably more than she should have, but then again, for all that they knew about each other, breaking their secret compact would only assure their mutual doom.

Despite her growing reservations, Vasra moved calmly. For all the risks she took, she felt safe in the Lower Ring. What criminal, what fiend, what murderer even, would trouble her there? She suspected people looked out for her. She had a role in the grim ecosystem of the Ba Sing Se. She had a purpose. She had a value to those at the top and the bottom. She had some favors to call in, if it came to that. The mood was festive. People seemed happy. Happier. She could share their joys. She could smile with them. There was little to celebrate in her mind. Victory in a war that had devastated the planet, hardly seemed like a victory at all. However, she would not begrudge the citizens of Ba Sing Se an escape from reality...at least not for a long day and a longer night.

[i]Time. Time[/i], Vasra thought. There was never enough time. She couldn't stay for long. She couldn't dawdle. She couldn't rest. Not yet. Not now. She had two critical patients. Construction workers hurt in an another [i]unfortunate[/i] and likely completely preventable accident. They wouldn't last the night if she didn't get her hands on some Spirit Water. She'd done as much as she could. She'd stretched her skills and limited supplies to the very limit. It wouldn't be enough. Not that it mattered. Not to anyone that could do anything about it at least.

An Upper Ring businessman was hardly going to be taken to task for failing to protect his Lower Ring workers. The safety inspectors had already been paid off. The RSF wouldn't investigate any further. It would all be swept under the rug. Everyone would look the other way. And life would go on.

[b]There was no justice in Ba Sing Se.[/b]

[i]Not anymore[/i], Vasra thought.

Troubled by such thoughts, Vasra finished her coffee in a fell swoop. Sonam was expecting her. She had managed to get word to her earlier in the day. Vasra wouldn't make her wait any longer. There wasn't much point. She had practically announced her presence in the Lower Ring with her arrival. As intended. As discussed. She could not hide in the shadows. She could not hide beneath a mask. But perhaps...perhaps she could hide in plain sight. Repositioning the stethoscope slung like a warding amulet around her neck, Vasra finally approached Sonam, where she saw that the woman was fast at work serving out bowls of fresh soup.

"Sonam! What a pleasure to see you on this fine day," Vasra began, flashing a kindly smile at her accomplice, and depositing her heavy medical bag on the floor with a dull thud. "Perhaps, you could spare me a bowl of soup? I haven't had a bite to eat today, and it would seem that I have new patients waiting for me here."