Tales of the Parodyverse

Post By

Al B. Harper
Wed Mar 31, 2004 at 09:17:21 am EST
Subject
Adventures of Night Nurse #1
Originally
What would you like to call the nurse then?
In Reply To

HH
Wed Mar 31, 2004 at 08:17:54 am EST
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It had been a long shift for Nurse Grace, longer than usual, due in part to the lack of technology that had suddenly engulfed the city, resulting in a wave of victims of simple and then more critical accidents, and then a second wave of victims of the violence that had now engulfed the city. A wave that kept coming.

Yes, it had been a very long shift alright.

"CRASH"

Grace jumped with a start at the sound of a sledge-hammer slamming down on her nurses station.

"Oh shit" she thought, realising that her shift was about to get a whole lot longer. Being no fool, she took in the 20 of so thugs who had just barged into the main concourse of the Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital, and surmised the situation immediately, Recognising the colours of the Slumtown Bloods she figured they'd either be after the drugs…or the nurses. "Not on my shift" she muttered under her breath.

"Hey there!" shouted one of them. "We got a need for medication, sister."

"Thank God it's just the drugs." Grace thought, but as she turned to run, another of them grabbed her, and forced her close to him, she felt real fear. She almost gagged at his foul stench of stale beer and sweat, and when he licked her cheek it was all she could do to keep from screaming out in terror for the memory the action brought back to her.

Being a woman of some fortitude, she managed to focus again. You don’t get to be the main ER nurse for one of the regions premier hospitals without the ability to bury pain, and that was how she had survived so long with out cracking. The unwanted memory was shunted back to the recesses of her mind once again. It was then she noticed the man standing up from where he had been looking after an injured child, just a regular citizen, she had thought, but then she noticed his eyes, there was something about them, and she realised what it was, a complete lack of fear.

“You sick?” the man asked the thug who had smashed the nurses station. “I got the cure.”

It was then she realised where she’d seen him before, he was one of those Legionnaires, the Postman or something. Somewhat of a vigilante, who was probably wanted by the Police himself, or so Grace recalled. She felt the can of mace in her hip pocket, she knew she may have need of it now.

Suddenly, the pugly who was holding her pull her closer. “You won’t be doing jack.” He said to the man, and Grace felt the cold touch of a steel blade against her throat. “We got hostages.”

Again, with the touch of the blade on her skin, she almost lost it, and it took all of her strength to force the evil memory back down and focus on the matter at hand.

Then it seemed to happened so fast, the vigilante going through the leaders of the gang, pushing a wheelchair bound patient into one of them was something she didn’t condone, but she had to admit it certainly got the job done. Before she even had a chance to think, she felt the thug’s grip on her loosen, and then he was toppling over the nurses station onto the floor.

Before she knew it the rage and frustration of the day boiled to the surface, and she felt her hands clasping the mace in emptying its contents into the face of the thug. Then he was there, the vigilante, and she looked up into his eyes again and saw that lack of fear. “Could I ever look like that?” Grace found herself wondering. As the vigilante made sure that the thug wouldn’t be pulling knives on anyone for a while, he caught her eye and winked at her, and she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time, something she felt she would never feel again, and she stood there, stunned at the feeling.

Afterwards, when her colleagues would ask her who the vigilante was, and all she could answer was “he was a hero, he was my hero.” And she felt that even though it had been a very long shift, she’d do it over again in a heart-beat.


Al B.



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