Song of the Siren 1.01

It always surprised him how easy it was to spot the capable by the way they moved, even in a loose fitting smock. He guessed in this lady’s case it was martial arts, more than just Tea-bo, the way she carried her weight entirely over her body – always – even when she stopped at the drinking fountain, was second nature; that meant not only practice, but training and some experience at least. What happened to the good old days when you could just go out and thump somebody without getting your ass kicked by his wife when she was done in the kitchen!.
His train of thought was broken by someone yelling doctor in the hallway. He didn’t realize they were yelling at him until he turned around, after watching miss martial arts as she walked around a corner and down another hallway. He turned to leave as another doctor in the hallway answered the call. Given the black look he got over miss someone’s shoulder as they stepped into the room together, he would have to get her name before he left, she might remember him later.
The smock and the name-tag were all it took once you were inside a hospital, the assumptions made on appearances from there were always pretty much the same; Doctor , Nurse, Intern, some kind of back room type? the way he carried himself almost always failed to Doctor for most.
The room was on the 3rd floor, the burn ward. He wasn’t told why they tried to make an example of this guy; acid in the face was always example stuff, a warning, but he wasn’t supposed to live. They only found out last week that he had, so he had been here for months; not good, and needed to be remedied.
He let all the people out of the elevator with his kindest smile; a gun with a silencer doesn’t feel right to someone if they brush against it walking by you, elevators are bad about that. The elevator remained empty for the short ride to the third floor. The room was unguarded, why guard a room with a vegetable in it? He closed the door behind him as he stepped in, and turned the lights up just enough to be sure who was there. Just a burn victim in a chair that didn’t even have wheels on it.
Wonder why they propped him up in that chair that way, strapped head held up and against the high back – it looked unnatural. There weren’t any eyelids left, but the eyes were clear, it can sometimes happen that way with acid, the blink reflex protects the eyes and the eyelids take all the destruction.
Before he had a chance to pull out his gun, he heard some one behind him ask, “Can I help you Doctor”, it was miss Martial Arts.
“No”, he said, “just checking on this gentleman.”
“Why,” she said.
“Some friends of mine think that they might know him,” he could tell she didn’t believe him.
“Really, he has been here for months, why now?”
“We didn’t know he was here, we have been looking for him.”
He tensed as she stepped around in front of him. The look in her eyes was searching. He was surprised to see that she was a doctor, that didn’t matched with the way her eyes slid away from his to the man in the chair. She stood motionless for what seemed a little to long, then moved suddenly toward the door as she said, “I’ll get his records out for you if you’ll meet me at the desk down the hall.” He got the full, frank appraisal in her eyes this time, as she noticed him start, “yep, doctor, he thought.”
“Nervous?” she asked, as she paused momentarily at the door.
“A little,” he said, “he looks kinda spooky”
“He is kinda spooky honey!” she said, still looking him up and down.
“The desk?”
“With you in a minute,” he said, as he turned away to look at the man in the chair.
Maybe today wasn’t the day, he thought, as his hand drifted over the gun in his belt… then the world went black.
…
The itching was infuriating, trying to blink didn’t feel right, and didn’t work to
relieve it. The eyes watered suddenly as the night breeze brushed over them.
“Looking for these,” she said.
He face looked strange upside down, he could feel the ropes around his ankles now, as he swayed and struggled in the dimly light alley. She opened her hand and showed him two small pieces of skin – they were his eyelids.
Her other hand flicked toward him, and it surprised him how little it hurt – at first.
Her knew from the reddened blur that was all he could see from his left eye, that what he felt running down his forehead was the fluid from inside it.
“Number three Honey”, she whispered in his ear, “number three.”