Shattered Reality - Shifting City - Chapter 3

I considered writing another TBoB today, but I wanted a little extra time to think about how to handle the siege, so Shattered instead.

I'm going to be rewriting the monster fight in the previous chapter soon (probably tomorrow) it wasn't horrifying enough for me. Instead of a fucked up guy, I'm going for more of a eldritch monster feeling. Since I explained the new monster later in the chapter, it should give you a good idea what I have in mind.

When I woke up in a modern, sterile white hospital room I was surprised. 

First of all that dog that attacked me should have set off every sensor in building 18, forcing a lockdown of not only the building but the entire district. I really should have woken up in whatever dingy medical center building seventeen had.

And second of all, I just fell five stories, by all accounts I shouldn’t have survived.

I turned my head slightly to look at the only other person in the room, an slightly older doctor with frizzy, thinning hair, and massive coke bottle glasses. “Where am I?” I managed to croak out.

“Shhhh… No questions!” the old man snapped. He continued checking the displays by my bed, entering the results on his tablet for several minutes before wandering over to the bed. “How many fingers?” he asked. The glasses made his eyes look huge and distorted as he stared down his nose at me. 

“Three on the left, two on the left,” I replied suspiciously. “Although I’m not sure why we’re doing a courier perception test in the hospital.” 

“Checking mental faculties,” the man humphed. He entered something on his tablet and immediately went back to checking the various readouts around the room.

Since he seemed intent to ignore me I glanced around the room. It appeared to be a fairly modern room, drones to take blood and perform surface scans, holographic displays, the works. There wasn’t much beyond that, I couldn’t see any of my stuff, or any other patients, the only other things appeared to be a row of chairs against the wall, and an empty glass and a pitcher of water on the sidetable. So I poured myself some.

I had just filled my mouth, savoring the clean taste, when the doctor looked up from his tablet. “Your body has taken to the treatment very well, the nanites have pretty much finished fixing your skeletal damage.”

It took everything I had to stop myself from spitting out the water. “What do you mean nanite treatment? I can’t afford that, and my insurance sure as hell won’t cover that.” 

The doctor just shrugged. “I have my orders,” he said simply. 

“Whos?” I asked. I wanted to jump out of bed and shake the man, but as soon as I leaned forward even the tiniest bit my back just screamed. “Where am I?”

“No questions!” he snapped again. “I’ve already informed the commander that you’re awake, someone will be in to interrogate you in a moment.”

I stared at the old man for a long moment. “Interrogate?” I asked.

He just harrumphed again, but didn’t reply. 

Since the doctor was stonewalling me, I had little choice but to sit in bed and glance around at the nothing in the room. It wasn’t long until I resorted to counting the literal seconds to entertain myself. Luckily I didn’t have to wait for long, I only made it to nine hundred and seventeen before someone pushed the door open. 

I leaned forward to see who it was, ignoring my screaming body. 

I could have passed the man who entered on the street and never thought about it twice. He was dressed in an old beaten brown leather jacket, flannel shirt, and jeans. He smiled when he saw me, which highlighted his neat ginger mustache and beard. He carefully picked up one of the chairs and brought it over to the bed. “Howdy. Olivia Marshal right? I’m Malcom Cromwell, nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.

His affable approach was probably meant to put me at ease, but I’d seen his type way too many times. I sat up a little straighter. “You sector enforcement? Investigations?” I asked suspiciously, “Can we skip the buddy buddy shit and jump to the reason why I’m here?”

Malcom’s smile fell a little, and he retracted his hand. “Yeah… your file did indicate you were suspicious, didn’t think it was this bad,” he mumbled before running a hand over his face. “Fine. Let’s jump right into it.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a collapsable tablet, which he fully extended before continuing.

“We have a shit ton of unexplainable shit sitting down in one of the isolation labs, and since you were at the center of that insanity, I hope you have an explanation for it,” he said in a lot more formal tone.

“We who?” I asked immediately, which only got me a disapproving look from both Malcolm and the doctor.

“Why were you in building one one eight dash seventeen?” Malcolm asked.

“I’m sure you already know that but if that’s the way you want to play it… I was there for a delivery. I’m a registered courier,” I answered. “I must be in a government complex, I doubt you’d be asking these questions in front of a normal doctor.”

The two exchanged a quick look, but didn’t say anything. “And you picked up something from Doctor Anton Stayer? What was it?” Malcolm asked.

I sighed. “I don’t know what it was in a gene locked courier bag. Do you really have to ask the stupid questions you already know the answer to?” I replied sarcastically.

Malcolm just punched something in on his tablet. “What happened then, in your own words,” he asked. This time he leaned closer, his eyes showing actual interest. This was what he was after.

“A fucking teleporting hell dog happened,” I snapped. I felt a tightness in my chest, even remembering the encounter was enough to trigger some anxiety. “I think it attacked the doctor first, killed him inside the clinic, then it teleported to the balcony to chase the bag. I tried to tag it with my pistol, but the rounds went right through it. Once it got close about half way down the hall it teleported behind me. I was lucky, I managed to get an arm between it and my throat. We struggled for a while, I managed to empty my magazine into it, then it shoved me against the railing and the faulty thing collapsed. I tried to turn enough so I landed on the dog, but didn’t fully manage it. That’s when I passed out.” 

Malcolm didn’t ask a follow up question for several seconds, so I looked up. Both he and the doctor were just staring at me, a perplexed look on both their faces. “And what do you think about the bag?” Malcolm finally asked. 

“It’s a fucking bag, I don’t give a shit,” I replied honestly. “But assuming it had one of those fucked up anomalies, I hope whomever is in charge of dealing with it drops it in the deepest darkest pit they can find.”

Malcolm turned towards the doctor, who just shrugged. “It all registers as the truth, no corruption,” the doctor explained helplessly. 

They both turned back towards me. “So, can I get out of here soon? Or can I at least call my girlfriend?” I asked. “I appreciate you filling me with nanites and saving my life, but I’m going to take me years to work off that debt, I’d like to get back out there.”

Malcolm slowly pushed the chair back from the bed and stood up, looking at me for a long minute before walking away. “I’ll be back later,” he grunted as he walked off.

“What about my phone call?” I yelled after him. “Jackass,” I finally muttered after he slammed the door.

—

Malcolm stepped out of the medical observation room, walked ten feet down the corridor, then stepped into the next room. This one just had a single person in it, a slightly older woman in a sharp pantsuit. She had her back towards him, the only thing she showed was her long greying hair pulled into a neat ponytail. Hey eyes were glued to the myriad of screens, each displaying Oliva from a different direction.

“What do you think,” she asked.

“You heard what she said, she was not only able to give a clear accounting of what happened, but she fully rejected the artifact. People don’t fucking do that when they’re exposed, ever. I still feel the call of some of the shit in the vaults. Not only that, but she broke the fucking thing. That shouldn’t be possible,” Malcolm raged. “She doesn’t make sense!”

“I am aware that she’s an oddity, what I know is if she can trust her,” the woman asked without turning around.

Malcolm took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing. “She’s a registered courier, one that has an exceptional record, so she’s reliable. She has an attitude problem, as you saw, but so do most of the people around here. I don’t think she’ll do anything to endanger our operations,” he finally admitted.

“Good,” the woman turned and looked him in the face. A small smile crossed her face. “Make sure she fully recovers, let her make her phone call, then bring her to me.”

Malcolm just nodded.