Adrian's senses slowly returned as he roused from the haze of unconsciousness, greeted by an agonizing throb in his right hand. In the dimly lit room, he blinked away the remnants of a disorienting slumber, finding himself lying on an uninviting bed. A woman, her face obscured by a doctor's mask, labored over his arm with a mixture of precision and urgency that caught his attention. Glancing around the shabby confines, he couldn't ignore the room's decrepit state; shattered glass littered the floor, water steadily dripped from a leaky ceiling, and torn remnants of propaganda posters from the Alderian Labor League clung to the walls.
Voice laced with suspicion, Adrian ventured a question, his eyes never leaving the doctor's form. "Where am I?"
Startled, the woman paused in her ministrations, her gloved hands momentarily still. "You've awakened. The pain did its job."
Adrian couldn't suppress a wince as he yanked his arm away, a sharp spike of pain accompanying the motion. "You still haven't answered my question."
With deliberate care, the woman coaxed his arm back to her side, her tone measured and calm. "You find yourself in a secure location within the Southern Slums."
As the fragments of memory gradually reassembled in Adrian's mind, he recalled the vivid chaos of the recent past: the metallic tang of blood, the acrid scent of gunpowder wafting through the air, and the haunting cries of panicked crowds. "And Artemia?" he inquired, a palpable undercurrent of concern threading through his words.
"She's in the company of Tima and Red. They're all safe," the doctor assured, her voice steady as she continued her work. She dabbed at the entry wound where the bullet had penetrated his flesh, cleansing it with a swipe of alcohol, and then delicately retrieved a slender needle from an adjacent metal tray. "I'll require your steady cooperation now."
Surprised, Adrian raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You removed the bullet?"
In response, the doctor pointed to the nearby tray, upon which lay a small, blood-stained piece of metal, a tangible testament to the precarious events that had unfolded.
Adrian's curiosity deepened as he took in his surroundings, seeking answers to the disorienting gaps in his memory. "Can you tell me what exactly happened?"
With an air of sardonic amusement, the doctor threaded a scarlet strand through the needle's eye, her practiced hands deftly pricking Adrian's flesh as she slowly sutured the bullet wound. "Seems like your Central District sensibilities finally caught up with you, and you passed out cold," she remarked. "Guess the intensity of yesterday's events proved a bit too much for your delicate heart."
Adrian, ever the deflector, retorted, "It's been a while since I've been in a shootout."
"Unlike you, our comrades face those police dogs daily and return with wounds far graver than your little bullet," she retorted pointedly.
Adrian arched an eyebrow, seeking clarity. "So, what are you trying to say?"
Pausing in her work, the doctor sighed, her tone heavy with skepticism. "I care about Artemia, as do all our comrades. But it's become increasingly apparent to some of us that you might be nothing more than a police informant, or perhaps even affiliated with the Royal Department itself."
Adrian, his voice tinged with frustration, countered, "I shot at them yesterday, trying to protect Artemia!"
The doctor, unyielding in her resolve, tied a thread tightly, eliciting a wince of pain from Adrian. "Regardless, it could be a carefully orchestrated ruse to gain our trust," she explained coolly. "In any case, it's up to Johan to decide what becomes of you."
"Who is Johan?" Adrian inquired, his interest piqued.
"He's the leader of our cell. If he deems it necessary, he'll provide you with more information," the doctor replied, her tone softened as she began wrapping a gauze bandage around Adrian's arm.
Adrian, his patience wearing thin, made an attempt to pull his arm away, but a stern gaze from the doctor quickly quelled his resistance. "I don't think that's necessary," he asserted.
She responded firmly, "I perform procedures as I see fit."
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With the gauze securely in place around his wounded arm, Adrian attempted to rise from the bed, only to discover that his leg was shackled to the bedframe. He sat up, his gaze fixed on the metal cuff encircling his ankle, a palpable sense of captivity settling in.
"You lot are quite a suspicious bunch, aren't you?" Adrian remarked, directing his question to the doctor, who was now packing her medical equipment, creating a cacophony of clinking instruments.
The doctor paused, her movements momentarily halted by Adrian's words. "If we weren't cautious, especially around police dogs like yourself, I doubt the League would have endured as long as it has."
Adrian nodded in begrudging acknowledgment. "You're absolutely right," he conceded. Realizing that the doctor would soon depart, leaving him alone and possibly vulnerable, he decided to initiate a conversation, hoping to glean some information. "How long have you known Artemia?"
The doctor abruptly ceased her actions, fixing Adrian with a penetrating stare as she placed both hands on the table. Slowly, she removed her doctor's mask, revealing her features, and set it aside along with her hat. Stepping closer to Adrian, only a small side table separated them, she spoke with an undertone of danger that carried an unexpected hint of seduction. "Already beginning the interrogation, are you? Do you fail to grasp that it is we who shall be conducting the interrogations now? And if you prove uncooperative, rest assured, I'm well-versed in the many methods for persuading a man of your kind to talk."
Adrian found himself at a loss for words, deciding that the wisest course of action was to await Johan's arrival and respond to whatever questions he might have. He nodded sharply in acknowledgment of the doctor's words and willingly reclined back onto the bed. A sly smirk played on the doctor's lips as she gathered her bag, containing the assortment of tools that had just been used on Adrian, and made her exit.
Left alone in the room, Adrian's attention was drawn to a window on the far wall. The staccato rhythm of raindrops pelting against the glass filled the room, their persistent patter a backdrop to the impending storm. Suddenly, a vivid lightning bolt slashed across the sky in the distance, followed by a sonorous thunderclap that reverberated through the room, causing it to shudder slightly. All Adrian yearned for at that moment was a chance to speak with Artemia and unravel the enigma of recent events. Stripped of his police badge, he felt bereft of any real authority, and without his trusty revolver, he was more vulnerable than ever. Now, Artemia represented both his shield and weapon. Her unwavering support had pulled him from the depths of despair and helped him combat his alcohol addiction.
Adrian's gaze shifted to the side table where the doctor had thoughtlessly left a small vial of alcohol, used for disinfecting his wound. Despite the searing pain in his arm, he reached for the vial, hastily uncorked it, and consumed its entire contents in a single, regrettable gulp. The liquid's acrid taste assaulted his senses, prompting an uncontrollable fit of coughing.
Amidst the cacophony of his hacking coughs, another deafening peal of thunder swept through the room. The door creaked open, revealing a man clad in a long leather coat and attire that befitted a laborer. He wore a flat cap pulled low, casting his features in shadow, and his arms remained hidden behind his back. Slowly raising his head, he revealed a half-smile adorned by a glimmering golden tooth. "Detective Belinsky, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," he greeted. Adrian's initial surprise swiftly gave way to shock, then curiosity as he whispered in recognition, "Johnny Terenkin." With newfound determination, he sat up on the bed, his mind racing to comprehend the unexpected meeting. 87Please respect copyright.PENANAeJ09rT3i5G
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