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CH. 2 PART 1 – MEDIC
Sicily, Italy, 19:45. Shoe rubber clanged furiously close as a group of the cartel's sentry ran through the lab's corridors. The agent's pursuers had lost their tail.
"Idiot, where did she go?" A guardsman berated his comrade for losing sight of the flash of white-blonde hair amidst the poorly-lit halls. Fear curdled beneath his anger at the consequences for improper patrol. Experiments carried out in the boss's name were cruel, but punishment was far crueler.
A few years ago, London's Secret Service had sent an agent abroad to crack down on suspicious activity in an unassuming research facility. Tucked away from the sight of the general populace, the illegally run branch was puppeteered Sicily's cosa nostra, a mafia family with alleged ties to terrorist schemes.
The sentry's footsteps receded as they took a turn down the wrong alley. Yiuna broke the silence, stumbling out from behind medical equipment. Blonde hair dirtied, head dizzied with a smattering of bruises, she drew in each jittering breath in pain. Her nausea worsened as memories of forced Boost injections flooded her mind. It was an unexpected and rather inconvenient time for her body to relive the side effects of the deprecated beta in her system from years ago. She clutched her sides, attempting to refocus.
A man in a lab coat had just made his way out of another room when he spotted the silhouette of her back. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. The agent jumped back, startled.
"Hold on, miss. Let me look." Weary eyes stared at her from beneath somewhat tousled dark hair. It could be a beta test of the new virus. I know they plan to do a few rounds of testing here, but this is too soon, he thought.
Her breaths were getting heavier. Yiuna found it strange that he was unbothered by her state of ruin. Leftover adrenaline from her brawl only heightened her suspicion.
"I'm fine. It doesn't concern you." I need to leave quickly. The agent may have been battered, but she certainly had not sustained any head injuries severe enough to make her trust any facility worker.
"It concerns me more than you think. And as you are now, I can't ignore you. I'm a medic." That's not quite my profession, but I can't tell more to someone as unfortunate as you. He spoke in a low voice. "Let me run a test on you at my home. I can tend to your injuries there too," he insisted.
"Don't be ridiculous – "
"I'm serious." He grabbed her arm. Irritated and exhausted, she tried to shove him off.
"Let go, I don't have time for this – " A sudden dizziness made her stumble.
The medic steadied her with his grip, shooting her a stern gaze. The sheer intensity of his stare took her aback, persistent yet sincere. He surely wouldn't take no for an answer now. She averted her eyes, embarrassed.
"I don't think you're aware of just what they did to you. Looks like you tried resisting them as the others did," he said, eyes imparting apology. Yet this woman doesn't seem like the others. But who else can make it this far into the lab? There's no other explanation.
She didn't know what he was talking about. She tried to piece together who he was, yet the swirling sickness threatened to steal her consciousness. It was uncanny to feel so dizzy, even after a fight. The man's seeming oblivion to her suspicion was jarring, and the mention of a test intrigued her. He seemed to have inside knowledge on the cartel's activities. She relented at the newfound opportunity to gather intelligence.
