Prologue

They say you never forget your first time. There's just something about one trembling moment that will cling in your memory past all other things. Something about sharing for the first time in an act that can at once be both the most intimate thing two people can do, and the most detached. They say a great many things, some of its even true, of course for me not this time.


I remember the night well enough but most of what I remember about it was my frantic heart beat, the heat, the sheer fierce joy. I had thought I would remember it. I thought it would hurt a little, inside me. It all came in such a rush that it was over before it even began though.


I don't remember what his face looked like clearly. I remember his eyes, the look in his eyes in that moment we shared between us will probably be a memory I take with me to the grave, but nothing else about him was remarkable. He wasn't a good man, but then, I don't know that he was a particularly evil one either.
Still. You should remember more about your first kill, shouldn't you?


I never asked for this, of course, but what shadowrunner does? Never mind, stupid question, we all come to the shadows warm embrace for our own reasons, and the darkness takes us all in. Hey there's a reason they call them women of the night, so ka?


There are things that still haunt my dreams about that place. Stupid things really. You would think I would remember the agony, the rush of magic through my veins like shooting up hot lead. Or the blood. God there was so much blood. It's not the way they show on the triddeo kids, do you know how much three gallons of anything is? And that's just for a human.


My dreams are haunted by the sound of a heart monitor, blipping in the darkness, reminding me I'm still alive. Still alive. Sometimes you prey for the angels to take you. For the next experiment to fail. For someone to screw up the iv of muscle relaxants, an over dose, the wrong medication.


Muscle relaxants. If the patient can't scream it doesn't matter if they can feel the pain. And pain can be a source of power. Plus the chems screw up the brain probes, you can't get a true read that way.
They weren't counting on me to develop toxin resistance. Stupid mistake, bitches. You gave me killing hands, and god gave me what I needed to use them when the time came. Once I had the guard's gun it was over.
God I hope it was a mistake, please let it be a mistake.


Please don't let me be out here as part of their plan.


Slotters.

Laser guns make neat little cauterized holes in people, no blood at all, did you know that? It makes it feel surreal, like watching puppets as the strings are cut.


So much of that night is a blur, but I got the data, I got my gun, and I found my comm- I took his comm too. Withdrew all the cred I could.


Easier than you might think to hop a plane, sinless, to a new city. Almost as easy as slipping through the cracks, once you find your way.


Then all you have to do is find a new you to be.


And hope you take all those drekkers with you in a blaze of glory when they come.



Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was always raining in Seattle. It was one of those universal truths, like knowing the sun was going to come up, even if you couldn't see it. This was Seattle, so it was raining. The old building, like most of them in this part of the city had been condemned long ago, so the steady drip of water into her scant sanctuary was unsurprising. Nor was the smell; the Barrens had a particular odor to them, although she had not previously ever needed to be made familiar with it. She was finding the experience educational, but she wasn't certain she wanted to be educated.

Pain wracked her body, distracting her wandering mind from its explorations of its surroundings, and a ragged gasp escaped her. She knew enough to know she was feverish, and that the wound was probably going septic. She clutched the gun to her, as if it could symbolically free her from the trap of her own diseased body, the way it had from the prison of a more concrete nature.


This is it, God's calling me to answer for the dead guards.

Her thoughts were bleak, when they came at all beyond the haze and the wracking pain and trembling. She vaguely knew that if she didn't get up she was going to die here. Her body ached for the dripping water, fouled by its filtration through the softened roof. Even a stupid soft corper knew that drinking the rain water would kill you. Sulfuric acid was an unkind taint to the city's precipitation, and it had been for a long while. Angela ran her dry tongue against the top of her mouth and over cracked lips. Her skin felt like it was on fire, burning, burning, fevers she knew. She often experienced reaction fevers after they had-

Her thoughts abruptly stopped as she heard a shuffling outside the broken door, and she held her breath. No, no mistake, there it was again, the floor creaking as something walked across it, someone. Were they here for her? Was it just one of those chipheads, looking for a safe place to slot up, gangers?

Her questions didn't remain unanswered for long as thin gnarled fingers wrapped around the door and pulled it open. Horror clawed its way up out of her chest, to her throat- though what should have been a scream as she beheld the gaunt and sightless figure sniffing at the air, its lips barely hiding the rows of sharp fangs in its mouth, came out as a whimper, her attempt to bolt upwards, and point that gun, that symbol of her freedom at it, resulted in pain wracking her body and darkness veiling her eyes as colours shot through her mind. The thin asian girl child collapsed on the floor.

The ghoul who had found her hovered over her body. If he did nothing, this one would be dead soon. Close enough to it now that the smell from her seeping wound at once nauseated him and made his stomach tighten with the hunger that his kind could not deny. Thin fingers attached to almost skeletal arms reached out and carefully picked her up. There was little to the small female, almost as thin as himself. He carried her, effortlessly to the door, clutching his find against his chest as he scurried out of the building and into the night.

It was a smell that first penetrated the warm comforting darkness that she floated in. Her mind lagged in identifying it, as it tugged at her senses, familiar, filtering into those half formed thoughts that weren't quite dreams, as fragile as a snow flake meeting warm breath. It probably would have taken longer for her to waken if her heart hadn't begun racing when her brain finally realized what she was smelling. Adrenaline shot through her and she started to sit up. Antiseptic. She was - no. Pain jarred through her, and she fell back, eyes opening ,closing, blinding by an over head light, dizzy. Panic made her breathing harsh, and she heard an alarm going off somewhere, she moved a hand. She could move.. she wasn't bound. Hands gently restrained her now, and draped a blessedly cool cloth across her forehead and eyes. She hadn't even realized she'd cried out, but her throat felt raw, and she swallowed. A glass was brought to her lips, and she drank greedily.

"Shh, shh." The alarm was turned off, and the cup drawn away from her lips as it emptied."You're safe." The voice was masculine, it- he sounded concerned. Something about not being able to place the voice made her relax a little. Irony. There was more safety in strangers, than voices she knew.

"Where-?" At least she started to ask that, the broken croak that came out of her that came out of her throat startled her into stopping while she swallowed a few times.

"Questions later, you need rest." His tone was firm, gentle, professional.

"Wh-" oh. The water had been drugged. Soft warm blackness enveloped her mind again.

A slender gloved hand checked her pulse, and glanced over the small biomonitor, satisfied with what it read now. The ghoul rocked back on his heels and considered the girl quietly. Well. She was going to make it, she was out of the danger zone.

Now what the hell was he going to do with her?



"Doctor Conway, Fred, you there?" Her voice was uncertain as she opened the door, her shifting weight making the baseboards of the old building creak. Water damage, she thought, and walked lightly, it wouldn't do to put a foot through the old floors and break her ankle. The building was quiet, none of the sounds of life that she expected coming from it...ah there was a sound, a soft whining and scratching.

The half starved looking young woman made her way over to the door to open it, recoiling a little at the smell, and a half grown monster of a dog came tumbling out through the door, bouncing around her legs and growling ferociously, little bits of fire dripping out of the thing's mouth, the hellhound was excited over someone coming in, though he knew her. She scruffed its ears, fingers stroking the velvety fur. "Hey, hey, c'mon, its just me, Cerberus, here..c'mon good boy.." She let him get a good smelling of her. "How long were you in there? phew" She asked the dog as she got him calmed down, glancing around. "Cerberus, where's Fred? Find Fred"

The half grown monster was trained enough for simple commands, and he recognized the name of his master. He barked and chased his tail for a moment before bounding away. Angela began to follow him quickly- too quickly. A lance of pain through her side reminded her why she was here. She grunted softly, arm closing around her injured torso as she refused to scream, teeth gritted. The young woman drew in a few deep breaths and regretted it. The dog hadn't been out to 'walk' for at least a day, maybe more. Her thoughts returned to worry, and she began to go after him, more cautiously this time, steps hurrying a little more as she caught his impatient barking.

She choked back a curse as she turned the light on in the room. A pale figure was sprawled out on the floor limply, a beer bottle near at hand, its contents making a sticky puddle on the old floor. The half grown dog licked at its master's face and barked while she scrambled for the box of gloves. the small woman cursed to herself in frustration as she tried to get a pair on, her impatience and injury making her clumsy, and her effort more difficult. She felt a moment of stark relief when she heard the figure groan quietly, almost protestingly, the frustrating gloves finally yielding to her.

Angela knelt down beside the fallen figure, pushing the worried pup's head out of the way while she checked his pulse and eyes. "Doctor? Doctor? Fred?" she gently slapped at his cheeks and he weakly tried to push her away. "C'mon Conway, up an at 'em this is your wake up call.. You gotta get up Freddy."

How could you even tell with those milky white eyes if they were right or not..? A wave of relief washed over her as her searching fingers found a pulse. Despite what people thought, they weren't dead things walking. She made a low unhappy noise and picked up the lanky skinny figure, dragging him over to the couch to sit him up, grunting in pain, a sweat broken out over her skin. She left him there to rummage around, searching for a stim patch to wake him, fumbling and spilling supplies before finally coming up with what she wanted and heading back over to him, to roll his sleeve back and apply the patch to pale, clammy skin. It seemed to take forever, with her heart in her throat, pounding.

Angela reached up one gloved hand beginning to slap gently at his cheeks. The fear that he wouldn't wake was almost as great as what would happen if he startled and bit her. "Doctor Conway, c'mon, you're worrying Cerberus, wake up." The puppy whined at the sound of his name. The doctor groaned, stirring a bit. His eyes opened - flecked with red but still pale as he snarled at the light, causing the young woman to flinch back away from him, an arm wrapping over her torso as muscles pulled, grunting. "I'll turn'em off." The words came in a quick breathy rush.

He nodded, sitting up slowly, when he finally spoke the words sounded disconnected, "What's that smell... smells good..."

Her eyes widened at the tone, "How long's it been since you ate, doc?" She backed slowly over to the light switch, turning on her contact's enhancements and turning off the overhead. He's pretty far gone...She thought unhappily, as much worried for him, as for the danger he now found herself in, stuttering as she answered, nervously "..Sm..Smells like something gone off to me."

"Nah, definitely good... It's... been a couple days I think. I'm hungry..."

The answer sent a spike of fear and adrenaline through her. She kept backing up, edging over to the door while he spoke. "..Why don't.. why don't I go ..go find that, Doc?"

"What's the rush..." Fred frowned, stumbling towards her, unsteadily, "Stay a while..."

"...Doc you should sit down," she tried desperately. "You were unconscious on the floor, I'll ...go find... " Oh God I really hope its not me being injured that he smells. She stumbled over the words, as that thought raced through her mind. "I'll go..find you something to eat."

The ghoul stumbled toward her, not heeding the plea, nor answering her. She was fortunate, in his weakened state he wasn't very fast, so the young woman fled from the only friend she had in the world.

Something smelled like meat gone off in here. That was probably what he wanted, it had to be, right? Not her. Even with the injured ribs she was moving faster than he could, so she started looking for the source, keeping an ear out for Fred's stumbling steps...and the more mundane problem of a possibly rotted floor.. she didn't want to break a leg, fortunately the floor hadn't had enough time to be rotted, at least not enough to collapse. Angela finally found the source of the smell, covering her mouth and nose as she opened the door to the surgery room and was nearly overwhelmed into vomiting by the smell of death. The body laid out on the table looked like it had been in the middle of a gang fight, judging by the number of bullet holes and the quantity of blood.

She fumbled for her respirator out and jammed it on, taking a few breaths of the filtered air to settle her stomach.. and wincing almost immediately as filling her lungs made pain lance through her. She glanced behind her then went in, investigating the body hesitantly. The body had been a woman, It looked like she had died mid operation, and then someone had cut ...a chunk out of her body. Angela looked at the hole for a long moment, her brain refusing to process what it meant.. her expression twisted and then realization dawned on her. Why the drek was he passed out in there from hunger when there's a...?

She glanced at the door then looked around till she found the trash can.. Grimacing when she confirmed a theory, a waft of bile making it through even the filter for a second Her jaw squared for a moment and she carefully fished the knife used to make the cuts out of the trash, where he'd thrown it, taking another from the table, taking them to the sink to thoroughly sterilize. What came after that was.. well not worth examining closely, but the butchering job was very clumsy. It did serve its purpose..which was to remove the meat from the appearance of being human in origin. The rest of the body was apologetically moved to a large bag in pieces. I'll burn it later. It , she had to think of this as an it.

Fred finally caught up with her, as she stood next to the table and looked at it blankly. Not even aware how long she'd been doing placed a hand on her shoulder, drooling slightly. "Mmmm.." He didn't sound too stable as his grip tightened, fingernails digging in. She flinched with a gasp.

"..Doctor." The word came out slightly strangled. She couldn't let him break her skin. "..Sorry.." He took an elbow to the side as she ducked down, trying to break the grip and make a dash for the door, and he growled, bending into the elbow losing his grip on her. The ghoul turned, but in his state he wasn't going to be able to catch up with her before she got past the door, and slammed it shut, sliding down against it to the floor to brace it closed. Fred turned, snarling, to a waiting if slightly spoiled feast laid out for him. Angela stripped off the surgical gloves she acquired to do the butchering and she threw them down the hall away from herself, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around her torso. The young woman listened, and waited breathing in short shallow gasps painfully.

It didn't take long for her to hear the sounds coming through the door. They were... best left undescribed, though certainly energetic. They did stop eventually, replaced by a soft sobbing. She waited for a long moment after the crying started, then turned, on her knees and reached up, opening the door a little, peeking in.
Fred didn't notice her, with his back turned to the door. He was crouched next to the operating table, bloody and crying. She swallowed and slowly got up, and came in, if the floor boards didn't creak it wasn't likely he would have heard her, before she was kneeling by him with a box of wet wipes, gently reaching to start wiping the blood away.

Fred didn't even look up as she started her work. "I... oh god..." he choked unsteadily.

"...Better, now?" She held his arm above the blood staining and carefully wiped it clean of fluids, then the other, before she moved on to the blood and tear streaked face, she'd grabbed another pair of gloves to protect her hands.

"N-not really..."

She turned his chin at the unsteady wording, to make his blind eyes look at her. "..Still hungry?"

"Yes..." Fred looked up at her, worried. "Not that hungry though..." A clean wet wipe was applied to his face, the former one discarded, cleaning his chin off, as he protested.

"..If you need to eat any more, I can wait out there." She swallowed a little, trying to hold the milky eyes.

"I... maybe I should. I can meet you upstairs... in a bit?" He agreed hesitantly. he seemed very suggestible just now.

She swallowed again her aura flared in his sight, with emotion, so much more visible than her expression to those blind eyes, she was frightened, but more overwhelmingly concerned "Are you sure? It doesn't seem like you ..oughta be alone right now." she wiped a tear away with a gloved thumb.

"You might be right... Can you hand me... the suit in the corner please?" Fred took a deep breath, frowning as he stood up. She carefully got off her knees and to her feet with a soft grunt, and went after the suit for him, uncomplaining. The hazmat suit made it ..safer for the doc to interact. The gloves were stripped and discarded again before she touched the suit. Angela tried to be very careful about sanitation. She had to be, she didn't want to end up... like him. Once he had the suit, Fred was rather quick about dressing and sealing. He'd had plenty of chance to practice recently. "I hate this thing..." He complained, more like the man she was used to, making something ease inside her.

"At least you have it doc." Her answer was breathy, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arm around her ribs again, to try and ease the pain somehow. "I think the puppy needs fed" Distracting him, that was the key.

"Probably... lets go get him a burger, huh?"

She spent a moment watching him, then decided he was strong enough now, and nodded, heading for the door, going back up the stairs wasn't something the young woman was looking forward to right now, but she didn't complain to him. He's alright, and he isn't going to eat me. She thought, relieved.

Fred wasn't exactly looking forward to going up the stairs either, truthfully, still shaky and a little weak. But Cerberus was expecting food, and he would not let a patient go untreated. Angela's injury became more obvious as she had to go up. She wrapped her arm back around herself, and breathed quick shallow breaths, stopping briefly but not glancing back at the doctor in the hazmat suit. She continued up and into the second floor after only a moment. Fred frowned, looking her over carefully as he followed. "What'd you do this time...?" He asked, suspiciously.

"Ribs. I fell." Her voice was breathy, and words short as she tried to avoid explaining. "Cerberus, here boy." She called to the half grown thing. Cerberus bounded over eagerly, exited to see her and Fred, and receive the adoration and pettings he was due. Fred, meanwhile, sighs. "Uh huh..."

She glanced up at Fred. "..I'll clean up downstairs, if you do something about the ribs."

"Bargain for me, then... come here." Fred nodded, beckoning her over, falling back into the familiar role of care giver. She straightened up, approaching the suited figure hesitantly, which was silly all things considered, since she was planning to let him work medicine on her. The recent events made her a bit jumpy, though she tried not to be. Fred smiled softly, sitting her down on the bed. With the suit on and a patient to attend to, he was a consummate professional, working quickly and efficiently to attend to her. He was able to watch the tension and fear drain away from the young woman while he tended to the ribs- the fact that the half starved looking runner was able to do as much as she had was remarkable with broken ribs pressing against, but fortunately not piercing, her lungs on one side.

"Fell, huh... where from?" He asked finally.

She flushed at the question glancing up at the opaqued helmet. "...second story."

"Uh huh. Alright..." The doctor replied dubiously, and sighed, "Well, you'll be here overnight."

"Still got cots downstairs?" She asked him quietly.

"Of course. I keep prepared," the reply came easily.

The young woman grunted quietly, thinking. "Am I going to be well enough to clean right now?"

"I'd recommend against it. It can wait." Fred smiled, shaking his head.

She looked up, trying to study him. "..Are you sure?"

"Yes. Rest, got it?" He admonished her.

"I've got it." she rubbed at the back of her head, and continued, "Can I sit up here, with you for a while?"

"Yeah, sure. I was just going to do some reading anyway..."

"Doc.." She hesitated and licked her upper lip then reached out to take one of his hands quietly.

"Yes?" He blinked, taking her hand, though seeming a bit confused.

"..Are you alright?" The question was asked bluntly, and the person asking it worried.

"I'll... live. I think." He answered evasively.

"You were passed out on the floor" She bit her lip.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is when you've had too much to drink..." He tried to deflect her.

"...I'm not stupid doc, I know what passed out drunk looks like." She answered quietly.

"well, yeah..." He granted reluctantly.

"..Fred, I'm worried about you." She used his first name to try and get a more personal response from him.

"... I'll make it, okay?" he tried again.

She gave him a frustrated look at that. "..You saved my life, Fred. I'm not gonna let this go."

"... I couldn't do it, okay? I know I have to eat, but..." He admitted, finally.

"Here, sit down. What happened?" The small woman was stronger than she looked, and the ghoul doctor was pretty light, she tugged him down beside her.

"I just couldn't... Eat. I'd been trying to save her, and then..." he sat down, heavily.

"..Its ..its drek, I know.." What do you say in situations like this? She looked up at his eyes worried. "...You're a good man Doc. It oughta be better'n this for you."

"Maybe, yeah. It isn't."

Angela looked down, frowning. "..what if..you never met them, nasty folks? Would that help?"

"It... Might, actually." Fred looked up, grimacing."I could... Clean up trash."

She reached over and puts a hand on his shoulder. She had to swallow a few times before she spoke. "..I'll help."

Fred paused, staring... And nodded. "I... thanks."

"...Need a good doctor anyhow, have you seen the rates your competitors charge?" She gave him a lopsided pained smile.

"Hah. Those ripoffs... Yeah. Don't worry." he smiled at that, sitting down in his recliner.

"Least I can do, Fred." Her voice was quiet as she answered. "..but I'm not getting nothing out of it, so don't worry, so ka?"

"Yeah... I guess. ... Angel?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?" She looked up at him.

"Thank you." Fred leaned back in his chair, sighing.

"...Doc I..." she shook her head. ".. I was near dead when you found me, if you were someone else.."

"No. I'm me. And you're you. That is important." He replied firmly.

"So I'll help. I don't ever want to see you bad off as tonight again." She told him, insistently.

"I won't say I liked it. But I'm still gonna keep my diet to a minimum."

She shrugged a shoulder and nodded at his reply "..I don't blame you. Not so little you loose control though huh? You don't want to end up eating one of your patients." The young shadowrunner smiled wryly.

"Yeah... That wouldn't end well." And then he seemed to realize and asked her quickly, uncertainly "uh... Did I... You..."

She quietly went over to sit beside him, then, wanting to talk about what had happened, but not wanting to poke at his pain too much. She patted his leg gently and finally asked. "You don't remember?"

"Not... Really, no." At that point, there wasn't a force on earth that could get Fred to admit to memories of the smell of her blood.

"You were barely lucid when I brought you around. You can't be blamed for anything." She decided to settle on, quietly, rather than speak on it directly.

"I... Guess not, huh? Still, I shouldn't let that happen." he accepted it reluctantly She swallowed again, her stomach felt tight, beyond the ache of her ribs. "..No, no you shouldn't let that happen. " Then she cleared her throat as her body reminded her achingly that she had other injuries now. "Speaking of.. got anything for bruises?" She .. looked apologetic and pulled at her collar till her shoulder was exposed, with the darkening fingerprints in it.

Fred sighed, standing and heading over to a drawer. "Frag. Yeah..." he returned a moment later with a jar of cream. "this'll help... Here, hold still." He opened the jar, scooping some out to rub into the bruise, causing a tingling sensation.

The young woman held very still for him, glancing up at the suits helmet. "Your ribs alright?"

"Yeah. It'll take more than that, Angel." He answered kindly.

"Yeah" her voice was quiet in answering. "I was trying not to hurt you."

"Thanks for that. Okay... This is done." he stopped, capping the jar again and she straightened out the collar of her shirt again and rotated the shoulder carefully, nodding to herself. "Don't do too much with it tonight. It still needs time to heal. Just get some rest, alright?" He cautioned her.

She looked up at him. "...Are you going to be alright?"

"... Yeah. I think so."

"If you need shoulder to cry on..?"

"I'll let you know."

She nodded and stood carefully, touching his arm, beginning to say something and then she grimaces at a sudden thought. "..I just remembered what it smells like down there- can I use the couch?"

"Uh... Sure. Don't mind my snoring."

"Thanks doc." She sighed and went over to his couch, the boots came off carefully and she sprawled out on it.

He sat down on his bed, sighing. "No problem. Good night..."

"'Night Fred." She was out before too long, trustingly. Considering what had happened very shortly ago, amazingly so. The young woman chose to remember that he had been crying, and he had fixed her ribs, and very little else. Fred, meanwhile, took a long time indeed to fall asleep, listening to the sounds of the room at night, of another person breathing. The presence of another in the room kept him from dozing off easily. It certainly didn't help that she was attractive. But at least he took some comfort in knowing she could defend herself, and Cerberus was there in case he lost control.

Feel free to comment criticize and offer advice (I know that one chunk of dialog is clunky, trying to figure out how to fix it) and more will come as I write it.

So, the girl in the beginning, she wasn't the same as Angela (now grown up)? Or was she the girl who died?

Ah, the story -is- about Angela, she is the main character, and the person who's voice is used in the prologue, the girl who died is unnamed.

Yeeeah..... I'm hooked; that was really amazing so far DG. Love the ghoul doc with quandary of eating flesh to survive or going rabid and turning on friends/patients

I'm really digging it so far. Not a complaint or criticism in sight from me. These are my kind of characters.

She couldn't move. She could feel the restraints digging into her skin again, cutting at it as she jerked her arms and twisted them back and forth. What was that? Movement? Footsteps..breathing. She could hear the breathing. She lay very still, her heart thudding in her chest, making the monitor beep its little warning with increasing volume. She tried to pretend to be asleep- but she couldn't stop her heart racing, threatening to beat so hard it left her chest, nor the slick blood coating her hands again, wounds around her wrists reopened. Panic started clawing up her throat, and then... She couldn't move, fog started invading her brain again and paralyzed her, it almost seemed like her heart skipped a beat as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Angela's gasping breath was just this shy of being a scream, the half broken whimpering she produced instead was almost worse as she jerked away from the hand on her shoulder, struggling out of the blanket wrapped around her and knelt, hands on the floor and panting, looking up with wild eyes that almost didn't recognize the creature that looked back at her in the dim lighting, wearing an outdated hazmat suit.

His worried, almost sad expression slowly filtered through her brain, nearly hidden behind the face plate, hand half held out then withdrawn. The floor was moving. Why was the floor moving? The smell of the toxic sea water, mold, and bodies too close together for too long slowly began to drown out the remembered smell of antiseptic.

She swallowed a couple of times and slowly sat up, then slumped against the hull. They were on a ship. She remembered. She caught herself rubbing at her wrists. Not even scars. Healing magic was like that.

They'd had plenty of mages after all.

He was leaning close again, concerned for her, but she waved him off and rubbed at her face. She hadn't been getting much sound sleep, and he knew enough by now to give her her space when she woke up like this. Funny the way life worked out, the monster saving her life, and those she should have been able to trust shattering it.

The cobwebs of memories slowly faded with the panic, and she sighed softly. They were lucky to have as much privacy as they did on the smuggler's ship. That was mostly due to Doctor Conway. No one wanted to bother the ghoul, and she didn't know how he'd managed to talk them into taking the nuyen for this trip. They certainly thought she was ..off, for staying with him down here. She wasn't their problem though, and they'd been paid enough not to ask questions. And hopefully they don't decide since they already have their money and no one will miss us to send us for a swim. She knew they wouldn't. Freddy could be fairly terrifying.

That upset him though, so she'd started learning. She learned pretty fast, too. It didn't matter that she was small, and a woman, there was a way of looking at a person that let them know you could kill them, and you wouldn't feel anything. They tended to respond to that the way she wanted. And then there were the ..things.. she could...

Her head jerked up, thoughts interrupted by the rapid fall of feet above her, and the sound of shouting and gunshots. She was on her feet in a moment, without even thinking about it and scrambling in their things.

"Angela..?" Fred's voice was uncertain, startled. She shook her head, first a small movement, but it became more insistent, though he did not add protests beyond her name.

"Stay here," Why was her voice so rough? She cleared her throat. "I'll be back, soon as I can."

The doctor grabbed her arm before she could leave, as her hand closed on the gun she wanted. Beyond the faceplate his expression was worried. "Don't be stupid." Was his admonition before he let the wild looking young woman go. "Remember I'll have to patch you back together."

The ghoul doctor got a crazed grin as an answer and she ran toward the ladder out. This would drive away the nightmares; she was counting on it.

She tucked the gun up against her, not yet used to carrying, as she carefully climbed up and eased the trap door up, peeking out, trying to get a handle on the situation.

Ah more good stuff... I'd take the next few reply spots (say 3 or 4) for yourself so you can edit them with more of your story.

Heh, I'm not too worried about that, I'll do a link list up at the top once it moves off the first page. Thank you guys for the kind words

Fun!

good stuff, hadnt had that much fun (and inspiration) with a sr story since shapcano. (shapcano anyone? ^^)
big compliment... more please

For a moment she was blinded as light leaked in around the edges of the door, and she squinted as her eyes watered up. The shouting which had once been muffled now loud and clear, shouts ringing in her ears. The situation resolved itself slowly in her mind.

Angela only vaguely recognized the crew of the ship, which somewhat added to the chaos of the situation she was attempting to sort out. Men were running, shouting, one ran right over the door, nearly causing her to lose her fingers to it. More gunshots fired, echoing off the cliffs. The ship was under attack, and these folks didn't look like the 'star, or any other reputable unit. Not that she really wanted to talk to the star. At all. They really want to talk to me though...

Her heart was beating fast again, but this was for an entirely different reason than only moments ago, and the young woman finally surged up, spilling out of the hold below rolling onto her kneels and up onto her feet, looking around quickly. It only took her a moment to be noticed by the intruders on the ship, so she didn't have to search long for a target, the gun was lifted, and a lance of red light hit the charging man, burning a neat hole through his chest. He kept going for a moment, before blood welled up out of his mouth and he fell to his knees coughing, gone in moments as his heart beat itself to death and spilled blood into his lungs. She didn't notice. She was already moving again.

There was a crack and a lance of pain blossomed, for a moment making her breath catch and bright sparks dance in her vision. It felt as if someone had drawn a hot poker across the outside edge of her shoulder, and for a moment she was frozen, hunching towards the pain, looking around wildly. It had been lucky for her that she'd been moving, and they'd had little time to aim, her own gun came up, fire lanced towards the shooter- and then someone else's was on her, a strong arm slammed into her from the other side, she hadn't seen them coming.

Angela's firearm went skidding across the deck and she scrambled to try and gain her feet again, another blow landing, she could feel something cracking in her this time. He was too fast, too strong- one of the chromed warriors, something she'd never fought before, she tried to get a foot up, lighting it with a nimbus of energy with a little frantic concentration, but he dodged easily.

What he did not dodge was the white figure that tackled him from the other side with an unholy noise that had the young woman scrambling backwards quickly and toward her gun, breaths coming in short shallow pants.

Her hand closed on the firearm, and that was when she realized how quiet it had gotten. She looked up and around for the attackers- but saw only the smugglers they were traveling with, pushing bodies- alive and otherwise- over the side. Her sweeping gaze finally met her savior's eyes as he knelt on top of the street sam. Fred's mouth was red, and for a moment there was little of him there to find. ..and then all at once sense seemed to return to him and his expression twisted. The ghoul looked down at the man he was on top of and fled to the rail himself, retching.

Angela forced herself to her feet and over to the downed man. He was stuck conscious, looking up at her with rattling breath- there was a chunk missing from his shoulder, near his throat.

"Who are you..?" The wounded man asked, weak and voice rough. She looked at him with some amount of pity- if he survived that, and he might, he would be a ghoul. Her mind traveled for a moment, silent, to the lost look in Doctor Conway's eyes, and the madness that could destroy him quickly.. or more slowly.

Angela raised the gun, at this range she couldn't miss. She answered him finally before death took him with a final shot, her other arm wrapped around her torso, blood dripping down from her shoulder, and off her elbow, "the Angel of Mercy."

* * *

I think i remember another ghoul doc and a young girl from somewhere, but that ghoul was a mouse shaman i think . .

This is very good. Nice spin on a Ghoul character. Keep it comming, I look forward to see what else you have in store for this unlikely duo.

Nice story keep on the good work...

Struggling to find time to finish reading this! Been trying ever since you put it up!

No one talked about the scorch mark on the upper deck afterward. The crew gave the pair of them a fairly wide birth, a grace she took advantage of to squirrel herself away below deck again, in the dark. Her thoughts were at once far away and very immediate, She didn't know enough to call shock what it was, and would likely deny it if someone suggested she was shocky. Why would she be shocky? She'd survived after all, and they hadn't. That was a good thing. Shouldn't she be feeling some measure of triumph? The taste of glory in battle on her tongue? She mostly felt like throwing up.

She felt more than saw the approach of someone else. A change in pressure in the hold. She knew if she opened her eyes she would see a momentary flash of light as the hatch was opened- and sure enough she could hear it closing again. Footsteps approached, stride familiar. She could recognize the sound of the doc walking these days.

Doctor Conway saw well enough in the dark, or, well, that was a misnomer; the ghoul could barely see in the traditional sense at all, and that was true whether there were light, or the full darkness he preferred. The smell of blood permeated the hold. The Doctor tried not to think about the way that smell affected him as he stumbled a little and righted himself, heading toward her. He couldn't tell if the scent of bile were her ..or simply left in his senses from the reaction of coming to himself with his mouth full of meat above deck. What he -Could- see was the familiar aura of a familiar figure, huddled in on itself, legs hugged against the chest. The colours were worrisome, muddied and dark with her mood.

He spoke up finally, as he got close to her, voice slightly unsteady. "Angela...? You okay? Injured?" He already knew the answer to that, of course.

" I... No... Yes." The shakiness of her own voice startled her, and she lifted her head a little to look up at the ghoul, her body tensing up, fighting her urge to flinch away from this man, who had saved her life more than once now. Her breath hissed through her teeth as the tensed muscles reminded her vividly of injuries received.

"It's okay, give me the details, I'll fix it." He tried to keep his voice soothing. This was something to hold onto, a point that steadied him. He might be a ghoul now, but he defined himself in his own mind as a doctor, and found comfort in those duties. Fred turns, the house-call bag he always kept ready, now, especially in dangerous places.

"..Gloves, Freddy, you need to put your gloves on." Mercy reminded him, probably unnecessarily. He wanted her to catch what he had nearly as much as she wanted to catch it; which was to say: not at all. Her mind was being uncooperative, skittering from subject to subject.

"They're in the bag," he reassured her gently. "Reduce my sense of touch, though." he grumbled to himself, starting towards her with the bag in hand. A soft grunt answered his grumbling, and then a moment of silence as the woman tried to gather her thoughts into some sense of order, and identify the sources of the pain clouding her thoughts, prodding at chaotic memory as to what caused them.

Her voice startled her, when she spoke again, shakier than she wanted it to be. "...Got hit," she paused and cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice, " a few times, bullet grazed my shoulder." The last of the words were rushed together on a breath.

The doctor wrapped himself in the familiar tasks and role, focusing on it to drown out other thoughts, come unbidden and unwelcomed to his mind "Hit by what? Besides the graze?"He asked her brusquely, setting down beside her and pulling his gloves out, and on over his hands meticulously.

Her half choked laugh and the words that followed it shattered the mental walls he had built for himself. "You ought to remember that."

Memory intruded, fragmented and coloured by rage and hunger, he pushed the images away and mumbled, his cheeks flushed. "... Right. Sorry." he frowned, fumbling a little as he finished slipping on the gloves and looked up at her. The doctor reached out but pulled his hand back as she shifted her position and took hold of the bottom edge of her shirt, puling it up and off, muscles tensed and breath hissing through her teeth as the fabric pulled away from her injured shoulder, and took the half formed scab with it. The scent of blood in the air became fresh again, and he swallowed silently but began gently and professionally applying pain killers to his patient.

The silence stretched a long moment, as she leaned her head back against the hull, her breath uneven, offering finally, almost belatedly, "..Thank you." She meant it for more than just what he was doing for her now. The silence stretched again, though his work, gentle and firm continued as the pain killer set in, and she spoke again. "I wasn't... fast enough. I've never seen anything that fast." The words sounded odd, even to her, with a halting uneven tone.

"You did what you could, Angela. It was enough for now." He answered finally, responding to her distress, trying to calm her before she even recognized the hysteria tickling up inside her for what it was.

"It nearly wasn't," she replied. Her voice had gone high, and she curled her fingers slowly into fist as she recognized the shakiness in them. "I need to be faster than that," that sounded more determined, better.

"... Reminds me of a guy I knew." Fred looked up at her slowly, studying her in the dark, and continued again before she could ask, as her expression became one of puzzlement, her eyes remaining closed. "It was a guy who I worked with as a paramedic. We'd picked up a stabbing victim. We didn't know the knife was poisoned right away. When we found out..." a sigh. "He wasn't fast enough with the antivenin. Not accurate enough with the injection. She lived. But there was permanent damage." A small pause then"... He took himself off medic work for a couple months. I didn't know why till he came back." His voice had a soothing, story telling rhythm, distracting his patient as he stitched her up and figured out how much damage was hidden under the surface of those bruises. Angela's eyes slowly opened and focused on his face, through the contacts in her eyes that made much of little light, among other things. "He'd worked in the morgue, and practiced on first aid dummies... IVs at the hospital. Anywhere he could, to get better at it. We worked a multiple poisoning a month later and he was like a virtuoso. I questioned him about it, and he said to me, 'God gave me a warning shot back then so I could be ready for the REAL one.' "

Angela let her breath out slowly toward the end of his tale, and then smiled faintly for him, murmuring. "I think I like him." Her expression sobers again, eyes going up to the deck above them. "How do you get -faster- though? I mean... not normal fast. I know how you do that- that... He wasn't... normal..." Her thoughts were back on the fight, and her own mortality.

"Practice helps. There are enhancers too though... Wares, mystic tricks. Big league and expensive." He answered her, his hands busy with the task before him, the mess that had been made of her body- and it could have been worse.

"Gonna need money then." She answered, a little distantly. "...A lot of it." She shifted a little, looking at her shoulder and the careful stitching job.

"We'll just have to get work then." Fred smiled for her. "I could get back into stripping."

This got an incredulous look from her , a laugh beginning to tickle up out of her throat. "..Stripping?"

"Sure, I made a ton of money in college," He insisted, the ghoul smiling a little more.

It occurred to her, abruptly, that the doctor was trying to distract her, and cheer her up. It also occurred to her that it was working as she laughed a little. "I don't think that would work out, these days."

The doctor smiled, continuing his work starting to wrap it up, stripping the used gloves off and putting them in a sealed baggy with the wipes he had used "I'll just leave that as a 'plan B' then."

"..You have to be like.. the worst ghoul ever, Fred." Mercy told him, almost admiringly.

"Good." He grinned, closing his bag up with a snap.

The German Matrixfeuer compilation, most likely.

As for critique: My main peeve is that astral sight does not equal lowlight vision. It is impossible to read with astral sight, for instance, and the Doc would get stuck on every ward, see spirits occasionally, and suffer background count. It's not like you wouldn't be in the good company of so many SR authors there, though, so it's not that bad, it's just a pet peeve of mine really.

Generally it's good, some bumpy dialogue, errors and stuff, but nothing that was more than something you gloss over. Good writing, all in all.

Still, the Doc and girl pair really reminds me of that Story from Matrixfeuer (and is one of the ghoul standards - I have seen a couple chars like this already). Not saying you stole or anything, I'd be rather surprised if you even heared of that book before - the players I think of sure did, though. So I'm trying to put that aside.

Other than that, keep it up. Curious where this will go.

Did I have him reading in the dark? If I did its something I need to fix, I generally assume hes blind except for y'know, astral, which is souls spirits and general shapes, and yes I know about the wards as well, they haven't gone into areas with them on the screen.

Yeah, once I'm finished with the thing I'm going through and doing some heavy editing on a few parts, I've been advised if I edit as I go I'll never get through it *chuckle*

Do not know the story in question, no. The urban fantasy I've ready is werewolves vampires elves wizards and necromancers (Well alright the one had a ghoul in it once but he was actually out of his mind and had to be put down...or was it a self aware flesh eating zombie..hmm..) I'd be curious to give that one a try but I -definitely- want to leave it till after this is done, if nothing but for the fact that people are already seeing similarities.

A paramedic ghoul makes a great deal of sense. In any kind of outbreak, the medical staff are the most likely go become infected simply due to exposure. You can wear gloves and take safety precautions, but you can still get infected if one of those systems gets compromised. If you accidentally puncture your gloves while spiking an IV, the best that can happen is that you get made fun of by the other paramedics for making a dumb mistake, the worst case is you now having HIV.

I like the story, I like the characters, and I like their interactions. The inherent revulsion to consuming human flesh is present in almost all cultures [citation needed] and you end up with a very visceral moral dilemma to get to explore. Your Friendly Neighborhood Vampires [link] have sort of done away with this kind of moral exploration and have become quite acceptable to readers. It seems that when you move from drinking blood to eating meat, some primal reaction just sparks off and hits you in the gut. Good stuff.

Writing mechanics wise, I would recommend never using ellipsis. When you write, they sound good in your head as a method of introducing pauses, but it unfortunately fails from the readers perspective. That is perhaps due to ellipsis abuse on Facebook and Twitter, but it's still a problem.

I like the story, and I admire the courage it takes to expose your writing to the critiques of the faceless mob. Keep it up.

It's not extemly long, so I might translate it (it's a German book, after all). Practice always is good anyway.

Well, you have him read Biomonitors and the likes ... I think you cannot do that on the astral. You certainly could not do it in 3rd, I don't know about 4th. And, later, have him read something for leisure (presumably a book or an ebook?). Nothing major. You can easily have the biomonitor read things out in a mechanical voice, and have him listen to a recorded reading instead. Just saying.

Thanks for the catch - reading in the dark is definitely out, and even with glasses he needs things relatively close to his face, I need to emphasize this, or replace it as you suggested.

Well, since he is blind and has to rely on Astral, he can read only emotions (which, of course, may be exciting in itself, and actually a good quirk for such a character actually). Technical readouts are out. All, of course, based on 3rd Astral; I am not sure if 4th works that way still.

with trodes, he could be able to 'read' matrix documents.