The Forgotten Zodiac

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what doctors are supposed to do? I mean, making people better would be his job." He frowned then, absorbing the 'no matter what the cost is'. "Cost is? What, like he chops off your arm to fix your leg? Or he kills your mother to fix your leg? Either way, I'm not really that scared of him. I mean, he doesn't get along for you, so enemy's enemy is my friend, right?"

"Where's Venice? Are all their chairs comfy like this? Can I go live there?" Tyler probably had no idea what was going on between the rest and was completely oblivious to Quinn's sickness. He was to busy deciding how many of Malya's chairs he could sleep in before they left.

Timothy whimpered when Sylas put him down, and immediately rolled off, scampering into the kitchen and close to Sylas again. "C-Can I stay in here, S-S-Sylas?"

Werr looked at Michael quite seriously. "He killed my younger sister because she was the only one within reach who had the same bloodtype as myself. I needed a heart transplant. So he took hers. It's not that he's my enemy, but I hate him just the same."

"...Awkward. Well, at least you don't need any other transplants?" Malya raised a brow. "Is Werr-swine your enemy, Michael? And no, Tyler-boy, not all the chairs are that comfy. Just the one that I picked out was especially comfortable."

Quinn wasn't stirring much, her breathing barely noticeable. She had fallen asleep, a brief escape from the pain of whatever this was.

"Hm? Yes." Sylas smiled. "You can help me, actually. Could you please get the eggs, some flour, and see if there are any noodles in the pantry?"

"R-Really?" Timothy jumped up and ran to the refridgerator, getting the eggs and handing them to Sylas. He then began going through the pantry, setting aside any type of noodles he found and continuing to try for the flour.

Tyler huffed, quite annoyed that not all chairs would be this comfortable for him. "That's very sad. I'm glad you picked out this one. You must be very good at picking out chairs. When I grow up, will you help me find chairs for my house?"

Michael nodded. "That would be bad. I don't suppose he's technically my enemy, but I certainly don't trust him with anything I don't have to. We wouldn't have come here, if there were anywhere else we could have gone to. Werr doesn't trust him, I don't trust Werr, none of us trust each other. It's a wonderful circle of distrust."

Sylas smiled and found a couple pots, several wooden spoons, and the ingredients to make a sauce. He picked out the spaghetti from the noodles Timothy had found for him, then took one egg from the lot and drank the contents. He was hungry, after all, he needed something to keep him going so he could make actual food.

"Only if you have the money to pay," Malya nodded, peering over at Sylas in the kitchen. "Does that pale guy cook?" She asked, not even listening to what Michael was saying anymore.

"I'm fairly certain there's someone here that trusts you, Michael..." Werr mumbled, but didn't speak up about it. "Yes, he cooks, and he's very good at it."

Malya wasn't even listening anymore again, as she had crossed over the window to peer through a sniper rifle that had been concealed by the curtain. "Oh look, it's Vrach." She smiled, watching the figure (with his hands raised above his head) approaching the building. "I'll get the door." She left quickly, smiling happily.

Tyler nodded. "Of course I will. When I grow up, I'm going to be so rich I'll own the entire world. Then I'll eat cake all day in comfy chairs. Doesn't that sound nice?" When he realized Malya was gone, he climbed out of the chair and ran after her, apparently having decided he liked her.

Michael heard Werr's comment and shrugged. "And I trust Tyler. On the other hand, he's five and does whatever he's told, especially if you know how to manipulate him. I suppose Sylas probably trusts me as well, but he trusts everyone."

Eventually, Timothy found the flour, but by this time he had practically unpacked the entire pantry. He brought the flour over to Sylas and then went back to the pantry, deciding to finish unpacking a repack, as he had decided it was unacceptably organized.

Mayla opened the door to a scruffy looking man; he had a gray fur-topped coat (same as both Malya and Werr; although Malya's fur was white and Werr's was brown (that, and Werr's coat was much longer than either of theirs)), thick glasses and a cigar in his mouth. He looked around his mid-fifties, much older than Malya. He was pulling a black suitcase behind him, which had what looked like a black ferret perched on top of it. The only other mentionable thing about him was the fact that he looked like he had tried to stuff an AK-47 into his coat. Which, he had. The butt of the nasty gun was sticking out next to his jaw, though he was pretending not to notice. Not very subtle.

Malya and he had a quick exchange in a language that sounded Polish, and Malya stepped aside to allow the man to pass.

"I was actually referring to Quinn here," Werr said, pointing to her hand; she had been holding onto Michael's shirt since before she had passed out.

Michael looked down to were Werr was pointing and grinned. "Apparently my teasing was closer to home than I thought. I'll just stay here then." He laughed for a second, finding this hilarious, though it was also a possibility than Quinn had simply needed to hold on to something.

Tyler jumped up to the man and waved up at him, rather in his face, as he was jumping in front of him and waving as high as he could. "HI! Who are you? Are you a doctor? Are you going to fix Quinn and Werr? Are you the guy Werr didn't like? Are you staying for dinner?" At this point he stopped, expecting the poor man to answer every single one of those questions.

"Well, it is possible that she just needed some comfort. Maybe it was getting hard for her to see, and she was too weak to say it..." Werr said thoughtfully. Quinn then began jerking around violently, though her eyes were still closed; she kicked and flailed, and cried out with pain. Werr looked startled for a moment, then shouted, "Vrach! Zahvat!"

Vrach, as it was indeed him, reacted immediately. He shoved Tyler aside, dragging his suitcase into the other room. He took one look at the situation and tore open his suitcase, pulled out a syringe and stuck it into Quinn's neck. Her jerking stopped quickly, and she relaxed again. Vrach silently checked her pulse, pupil dialation, heartbeat and breathing, all with tools from his suitcase (which were handed to him by the ferret who seemed to know what Vrach needed when he needed it), which looked like a hospital in a bag. He finally spoke with his gravelly voice and broken English, "Seizure, weak heart, shallow breathing...other symptoms?"

Tyler huffed and jumped out of Vrach's way. If he didn't know that Quinn was hurt, he would have been tempted to follow and whine at him, but he knew Quinn was hurt and so assumed it was just the man being worried about Tyler's friends, which was a perfectly acceptable thing to be worried about.

Michael paused and thought through the list Vrach had given him, then shook his head. "The only thing to know is that she was perfectly fine, though tired, until about an hour ago, when she said she felt terrible. She got gradually worse until this happened."

Malya took Tyler by the hand and led him back into the living room, frowning a bit.

Vrach frowned, as if he was struggling to understand what Michael had said. "She threw up a few hours ago, then fell asleep on the way here. She collapsed after we got out of the car, and said that her arms and legs were tingling and stiff, and she couldn't move them." Werr elaborated. Vrach just blinked on him.

Malya interjected at this point, repeating what both Michael and Werr had said in Polish. Vrach nodded thoughtfully. "Toxins." He said simply, frowning. "Where would girl have toxins from?"

"Where could she have been exposed to toxins?" Malya explained, looking at the others.

Michael groaned and looked at Werr. "You don't think they would?" He groaned again. "Werr, do you think they would put some sort of toxin-releaser in her at the Institute? It's the only place I can think of."

Werr thought. "A few of the...experiments were to put toxin emitters in the gifteds and have them leave the Institute...they found the bodies all within 50 feet of the Institute. I wasn't told, but I remember reading a small exerpt in her file about one being put in, but it malfunctioned..."

Michael groaned again. "So it's stopped malfunctioning. Now we know what's wrong. How do we fix the toxin? There wouldn't be something easy like an antidote, would there?" He asked without any actual hope. If the Institute wanted to kill you, they would kill you. There wasn't typically something easy enough to save you within a few seconds, which, for all he knew, might be all Quinn had.

Vrach listened quietly, thinking. "Surgery." He said, his ferret handing him an IV pack. He stuck it on a coat hangar nearby, and put the needle in Quinn's wrist. He added something to the mix by injecting it directly into the bag, then took a small black case from his ferret. Inside were scalpels, clamps and needles. "Where?"

Werr tried to ignore all this, but couldn't. The last time he had seen Vrach prepare for surgery, he had woken up to find his sister dead. Vrach's question jerked him out of this memory, though. "I-it should be near the heart...that's where they put it on the others."

"Size?"

"No bigger than a quarter..."

"A challenge. Accepted." Vrach made a face, handing his cigar to Malya.

Michael looked from Werr, to Quinn, to Vrach. "Okay, I know I'm not a doctor, but if you're going to cut her open, shouldn't we be somewhere... Sterile? I mean, it's not that this place isn't clean, but it's hardly germless." He frowned and looked around. "Unless all of this stuff has been recently boiled, but it doesn't look like it."

"You prefer where, exactly?" Vrach looked at Michael curiously. "Girl dies while we take time to sterilize things. You think this is so bad? At least it is cleaner than pit Werr had open-heart surgery at. I avoid infection. I have never lost patient before. I not start now." He pulled out a scalpel and a lighter, holding the blade over the flame for a moment.

"At least let me locate the precise spot," Werr sighed. "Where's Subject? Did we leave him in the car?"

Michael looked around, then grinned and nodded. "I think we did. I don't recall seeing him get out." He pulled Quinn's hands off his clothing and left the room. "I'll go get him. Hopefully he's still there. It would be so bothersome if he wasn't."

"Hurry, please," Werr said, frowning. He could only hold back Vrach for so long, no matter how little Werr wanted him to do exploratory surgery on poor Quinn.

Subject was indeed still in the car. He had woken up only a few minutes ago, and in his weary, dazed and groggy state, he was just sitting there quietly. His chest hurt anyways, might as well just not move too much.

Michael slammed the door the the car open and jumped in. "Hey! Subject, Werr wants you in the house. Now." He grabbed Subject's shoulders and shook him, attempting to wake him up so that Michael could get him into the house.

Subject yelped with pain and surprise as Michael started shaking him. Well now it definitely hurt. "Stop, stop!" He snapped, slapping at Michael's hands. "That hurts! I'l come inside, stop shaking me!"