1 August 2050, Touristville, Redmond, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS

"Its been another fine, warm summer day here in the Metroplex, with temperatures as high as 70 degrees, no rain and a low of 52 - and for you people from the C is in the UCAS, thats eleven to twenty one degrees, and the same amount of rain at nothing. It's 9pm, and todays Bodycount Lottery is up to twenty three ... bbbzzzzttt ...'

And the screen pops and dies as the intermittent power to the block holding the grey clinic crackles out. Emergency lights glow red, bathing the clinic's white-painted waiting room in seeming blood, and then the backup generator whines to life, resetting the tri-d to a looping series of advertisments for MCT, Mitsuhama Motors and Espirit Electronics.

The nurse looks up, and the ganger on security duty nods to her as she changes the bandage on the night's third bullet case - a series of nine millimeter wounds across the pectoral muscles, slowed but not stopped by a battered Ares Technology armour jacket.

He growls at the nineteen year old with the bad choice in body armour, black-chromed palm-spur clinking out of it's hiding place - 'You got a pistol in ya pants, chummer. Give it to the nice lady, and we'se square on the bill. Otherwise, we'se goanna need some ... parts ... to cover costs here'.

Coming on duty, the nights first cup of syncaf in his hand, is a hard eyed human Egill. Blessed by whispered secrets, he can breathe life back into a dying man.

Egill moves closer to the patient, with a cold, distant and very neutral look on his face. He then asks to the nurse "Have you already extracted the bullets?"
Then he inspects the patient before applying a bit of that "gift" he received so long ago.
He thinks to himself while treating the victim "who would have guessed my uncle was paying for -this-"
After another cold look to the patient, the thirty-aged, red haired, ice eyes mage doctor gives him a bit of his magic medicine.

"Thanks, kid." An orc has approached the entrance following a wary teenage boy. She throws him something small, and he vanishes into the night, whilst she carefully steps up to the entrance, and stops, one hand raised to the doorframe, tilting her head at the suddenly alert security.

She's wearing battered motorcycle leathers and her gang colours, dark glasses pushed up over the top of her head even though it's the dead of night. Her coat could hide a miriad of new problems, and security doesn't like the way it hangs.

She remains frozen and grins nervously. "I'm... Not a threat. And I'm not a customer. I'm a paramedic?"

The red hair guy dresses quite fancy. A long black coat with a silver colored rune printed on it's back sits on a chair next to the entrance of the room. One has to wonder how a guy can dress white classic while wearing that coat. While still busy operating his magic medicine to a patient, Egill gives a cold look to the ork woman. "Hrmm... how can I help you lady?". Being concerned by the strange approach of the ork he exchanges a questioning look to the nurse.

(doible post sorry)