Marcando: Listen up. We're the Apostles Brotherhood, not some worthless favela gang.
Marcando: So, we start off nice and easy. And if the doc doesn't play along, well, then we make her play along, clear?
The feverish girl looks to be doing much better than before. Doctor Dores is crouched beside the bed, gently wiping her face.
A few uninvited guests burst in.
Doctor Dores: Hello. How can I help you, gentlemen?
Marcando: Ay, is she really blind?
Doctor Dores: I'm afraid yes. But please don't worry. I'm more than able to treat all my patients. Are you feeling unwell, sir?
Marcando glances at the patient on the stretcher and signals to his men.
His "dogs" quickly surround the patient.
Doctor Dores: Sir?
Marcando: We heard that you're a good doctor. We got someone who needs your help.
Marcando: You're Dr. Dores from the Veterans' Residence, right?
Doctor Dores: Yes, and may I know who you are? I won't turn away a patient, but I'll also need some assurance that you can be trusted, sir.
Brotherhood Member: So, is she coming with us or not?
He kicks over a cabinet, causing the test tubes within to smash in a small explosion on the floor.
White Rum: Did you hear that?
Ms. Kimberly: Sounds like some kind of explosion near the clinic. Should we go back?
White Rum: It could be an accident, but she's got a way with her equipment. Doubtful she's the cause of this.
White Rum: Steady on then. Let's hurry back and see for ourselves.
White Rum: Ah-ah, that's not how you treat a doctor, lads!
The thugs instinctively draw their knives—a habit developed in their line of "work."
Ms. Kimberly: What are you doing to her?!
Marcando: Lord Santos would like to have a word with the doctor, that's all.
Ms. Kimberly: You're not taking her anywhere. Don't you see she's taking care of this girl?
She bares her claws, digging her heels into the ground.
Marcando: Yeah, I'm not asking for permission, sweetheart.
Marcando snaps his fingers.
Marcando: Grab the doctor. Ice the rest of them.
COMBAT
Kimberly clasps the head of a thug in her claws, poised to crush it, but she hesitates, glancing back at the doctor.
Doctor Dores: Stop! Enough! I won't have you fighting in my clinic!
Kimberly releases her grip.
Ms. Kimberly: Doctor?
White Rum: But they've got the girl, Doctor.
The feverish girl's unconscious body has been thrown over the shoulder of one of the thugs.
Marcando: This lady definitely isn't from the favela. So, what's she doing here?
Doctor Dores: She's ill. She needs my help. That is all I ever ask.
Marcando: Well, all we need is you, Doc. So, how's about we make a deal? You come with us, we let the rest of your friends go, understood?
Doctor Dores: So be it.
She doesn't hesitate to accept.
Ms. Kimberly: Please, Doctor! Stand aside. I'll happily take care of these rats.
Doctor Dores: I have no doubt about that, Miss. However, once violence starts and blood is spilled, there will be no end to it. For now, I would be happy to meet with this Mr. Santos, and seek out a peaceful resolution.
Doctor Dores: I'll come with you.
Marcando: See? We can all be friends.
The thug pushes the feverish girl toward Kimberly.
Ms. Kimberly: Vertin!
Kimberly catches her, holding her tightly in her arms.
Doctor Dores: If she doesn't wake up tonight, take her to the Veterans' Residence first thing in the morning.
Marcando: Alright, get the doctor straight to His Reverence.
...
A long sleep with no dreams.
No worries. No troubles. No thoughts.
Like being back in a warm, dark, damp room.
She awakes to an unfamiliar place. It's quiet and strange.
Vertin: cough
White Rum: Have a good rest, did you, sleeping beauty?
Ms. Kimberly: Vertin!
White Rum: You've missed quite a bit. All terrible, I'm afraid.
A talking ship inside a bottle.
A tiny floating fortress on the water, and beside her, a worried Ms. Kimberly.
Vertin: Where am I?
White Rum: You and this lass were drifting down the river after your ship went down.
White Rum: You'd have met Dr. Dores, had you woken up a little sooner.
Vertin: Doctor?
Ms. Kimberly: Dr. Dores, yes. She's a doctor from the Veterans' Residence. She saved you from the very claws of death.
Vertin: She ...
She can't walk. Her body is still too heavy.
White Rum: Aye, you were burning up, lass. But the good doctor pulled you through. She was right there by your bedside the whole time.
White Rum: The good news is, we think she's still alive.
Vertin: Still alive? What's the bad news, then?
White Rum: The bad news is she's been snatched up by the Apostles Brotherhood.
Vertin: What?
White Rum: Rest now, lass. They aren't likely to hurt her, for now. You'll need your strength for later.
White Rum: Some scallywag by the name of Santos wanted to "have a word with her," so they said.
...
Everything has gone to hell since that ship sank.
Vertin: But Lopera and Sotheby ... Where are they?
There's a shooting pain in her arm.
Vertin: I remember we all fell into the water.
Ms. Kimberly: I'm sorry. I didn't see them. I only—
Ms. Kimberly: We washed ashore together.
Vertin: My map—have you seen it? I have to get to the Veterans' Residence. They may very well be waiting for me there.
Come on. On your feet.
White Rum: Well, I may be just the ship to get you there, ladies.