The Competition

As Chelsea had discovered, this hospital was a palace of sleek and alien design. Its wide and brightly lit halls circled a central atrium filled with a strange array of coloured plants. At any other time, she would have set up an easel and got her supplies out to paint the vibrant pink, purple, and orange hues of the trees, or the oddly bulbous blue flowers sprouting off the creeper vines. Or even perhaps the menagerie of multi-coloured fish-like creatures swimming in the central pool. But they had more pressing concerns, and, to be honest, she was a little unsettled by it all.

With Doctor Arzt leading the way, they quickly found room 289, the smooth metal door sliding open as they approached. Four beds lined the far wall inside, occupied by Emelia and her friends. Standing close by were another three figures.

Chelsea instantly recognised Moira Brighton, a second-year from Ashcroft. Chelsea didn’t know her personally, but her family apparently made regular financial contributions to the academy. Moreover, she had been seen frequently associating with John in the past month, and many at the academy had thought they were dating. Chelsea couldn’t well say she liked the girl, though, and her presence here simply made her all the more suspicious.

The other two, Chelsea didn’t recognise. One was a tall and pale man dressed in a black suit. At a guess, this was the ‘Michael’ that Doctor Arzt mentioned. He was busy talking with Moira. The last figure was a girl who, upon the door sliding open, turned to face the arriving group. She was a fair haired, blue eyed girl like Chelsea, wearing a bright red cloak over a white blouse and deep blue skirt. It was a little strange, but the cloak made sense when Chelsea accounted for the dress-up party the previous night.

“You must be Chelsea,” the unfamiliar blonde smiled cooly at her as she stepped forward and opened her arms to embrace Chelsea before giving her a light peck on the cheek. Her accent was distinctly British. Strangely, she also smelled a bit like a dog.

“Uh… hi?” Chelsea stepped back with a frown creasing her face. “Who are you?”

“Right, hullo, my name’s Charlene, though my friends call me ‘Red’ - like the fairy tale character,” the pretty blonde in the red cloak replied lightly as she reached over to grab John’s hand. “I’m John’s girlfriend.”

“John’s…” Chelsea faltered. ‘...girlfriend?’ Who was she kidding? Of course John had a girlfriend now. She glanced in his direction. John really was a far cry from the reserved nerd he’d been a month ago, looking more like his brother than himself. His posture was more upright, exuding an air of charm and confidence, and it was clear there was muscle developing underneath his clothes. It was easy to see why people were attracted to that… hell, Chelsea was too. But she had also liked the shy boy before the man. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she finished disingenuously. This must be what Sam meant when suggesting she should reevaluate her interest.

“Not really,” Red replied. “The circumstances are shite.” She gestured to the girls on life support behind her, prompting Chelsea to step up to their beds.

“They look so… blissful,” Chelsea frowned as she noticed the slight curl to Emelia’s lips underneath the oxygen mask.

“I take it you haven’t roused me from my work merely to tend to a succubus' kiss?” Doctor Arzt spoke behind her in deadpan, directing his question at the man in the suit.

“Of course not, old friend,” the man replied with no trace of emotion to be found in the familiar term. It was kind of like two robots talking to each other. “While the symptoms of a succubus are emulated here, it seems that the cause may lie in a new ****.”

“A ****?” Doctor Arzt’s face finally broke its neutral expression with a slightly raised brow. “Do you have it with you?”

“I unfortunately only have the empty container,” the man in the suit replied, producing an evidence bag from his briefcase and handing it to the doctor. “The contents were all consumed during a party yesterday night.”

“By just these four?” Doctor Arzt glanced at the four comatose girls.

“No,” John cleared his throat. “We’re pretty sure that Red, Sam, and I also took the ****, but with us being stronger than your average person, the effects were nowhere near as severe.”

“Meaning you’re not certain?” the doctor checked.

“There were several other girls involved,” the man in the suit clarified. “Though they exhibited less severe symptoms, they each had a substantial gap in their memory during the time the **** is speculated to have been taken. The same goes for those here. I have determined that magic was certainly at play and hypothesise it was infused into the ****.”

“Fascinating,” the doctor replied with apparent disinterest, reading the label on the canister. “This is useless to me, detective,” he continued, giving the canister back to the man in the suit.

‘So the man is a detective?’ Chelsea thought curiously. He dressed respectably, but his demeanour seemed far too unsettling. ‘Come to think of it, I think Sam may have said something about a ‘wizard cop’ during her ramblings.’

“So can you do anything?” Sam voiced, tapping her foot impatiently.

The doctor glanced in her direction with a blank expression. “Perhaps. I will need to run some tests,” he said as he tugged on the sleeve of his coat, revealing a device on his wrist. “Miss Sunday, find yourself a replacement for your station and come to room 289. I require your assistance.”

“Oh my,” the voice of that pink haired girl filtered through the device. “Y-yes, of course. Though I must say I’m surprised, you’ve never appeared to be interested in this sort of thing before. Though I suppose even a man like you has needs…”

“‘Assistance’ is not a euphemism, Miss Sunday,” the doctor replied. “You are being assigned to the new patients.”

“Oh!” the voice squeaked back. “Y-you mean I actually get to work as a nurse again?! Gosh, I’m so happy. Thank you, doctor! Thank-” her voice was cut off as Arzt severed the connection.

“‘Again’?” John questioned.

“There have been incidents in the past concerning Miss Sunday and the patients under her care,” Doctor Arzt explained. “But it is my belief that she will be of use in this matter.”

“Sure,” John agreed, apparently unconcerned that a problematic nurse would be involved in the care of Emelia and her friends.

“What do you mean ‘incidents’?” the Brighton girl voiced, apparently sharing Chelsea’s own doubts.

“He means that she fucked them, sweetheart,” John’s girlfriend responded bluntly.

‘Wow, this girl has no tact,’ Chelsea frowned, wondering what it was exactly John saw in her. Sure, she had a pretty face and lovely hair… Chelsea wished her own blonde locks had the same glimmer of gold to them, but she doubted there was anything of substance behind Red’s pretty frame. Judging by John’s apparent interest in debauchery, she was probably just a good fuck and that’s why he kept her around. ‘Still, her accent makes her stand out from your average American gal,’ Chelsea realised. ‘Maybe I should work on my own voice?’

“Oh…” Moira’s face turned as bright as her hair and she said nothing more.

Brighton was surprising Chelsea too. She appeared much more demure now than her stern and authoritative air at Ashcroft. Why? Chelsea gave the girl a scrutinising look. Her posture, the way her body was leaning, the way her eyes moved, they seemed to always follow John as he moved. Only ever occasionally breaking to look at the blonde that clung to his arm with a mix of admiration and jealousy.

‘Oh my god, she’s in love with him too,’ Chelsea realised with a pang of sympathy which was quickly overridden by her growing frustration. ‘This is ridiculous... and entirely unfair.’ All year he’d been a clueless dork, and suddenly some switch had flicked and it was like women just gravitated towards him. He was all charm and even had a girlfriend, and it wasn’t her.

Chelsea’s pouting was interrupted as the door opened behind her and the pink-haired nurse hurried inside, her cheeks flushed and clearly out of breath. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, doctor!” she bowed and nearly staggered into a bed frame. Poor thing must have sprinted upstairs to the room.

“Get yourself a cup of water, Miss Sunday,” the doctor sighed. “And locate the hypodermic needles,”

“Yes sir, right away,” Sunny nodded fervently before hurrying to the sink tucked into the corner of the room.

“Good,” Doctor Arzt nodded before turning to the expectant group. “You suspect you also consumed this ****, yes? I would like to collect blood samples from all of you to compare to the patients.”

“Sure,” John agreed quickly. “Anything to help.”

“It will also be a useful point of reference to have the blood of a person with little exposure to the Abyss,” the doctor continued, looking intently at Chelsea.

“Oh… sure,” she agreed. “If you think it’ll help…”

Doctor Arzt nodded before turning to Moira “The same goes for you, Warden.”

“Of course,” she agreed quickly.

‘Warden?’ Chelsea wondered, but lost the chance to ask as Sunday quickly ushered her to a seated position and prepared to take a blood sample. The process was over quickly and painlessly, and soon the nurse was ushering them all out of the room.

“We will need time to examine the patients and analyse your blood,” Doctor Arzt explained. “There is a waiting room down the hall or you can simply come back later, it is of no matter to me.”

“Why can’t we wait in here?” Sam questioned.

“Because I work best without distractions and your presence, let alone six of you, is a distraction,” the doctor replied swiftly.

“How long will you be, then?” Sam persisted.

“An optimistic guess would be 2-3 hours,” the doctor replied. “However, this is an unfamiliar **** and the scope of its effects are unknown. On that note, if any of you start displaying any more abnormal symptoms, report to the reception in the waiting room. Now, is there anything else before I get to work?” he glanced across the group.

“I will be taking my leave,” the detective announced with a tired expression. “Today has left me with a lot of work to do. I trust you’ll send me a report when you’re done - include similar cases.

“If I must,” the doctor replied despondently.

“And remember, you three…” the detective continued, looking between John, his girlfriend, and Moira. “Do not allow this incident to distract you from your other work. 8 o’clock sharp, dressed for work, not a halloween party.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John responded lazily. “I promise we won’t smell like bums either. We’re as serious about that case as we are this.”

“Good,” was all the detective said before curtly turning and making his departure.

‘Strange,’ Chelsea thought. ‘Are they working for the detective?’ She somehow doubted they had the qualifications of a proper officer, so they must be in some sort of training.

“Nothing else?” the doctor asked.