A nice, relaxing afternoon in the park

As far as Emily was concerned, this island was just perfect. She could wander around the shops, she had a job, there was a beach, and she could even cuddle up with her boyfriend without having to worry about the cameras and the guards. There were drawbacks though, the camera in her dorm for example, and the early curfew, but they were far outweighed by the positives. Compared with the restrictions she'd been under at Hadley, this place was paradise. Who knew? Once she'd spoken to Doctor Bjorgen, maybe she'd even be free! She could get a little apartment on the island, take care of herself and finally live the way she wanted to. She didn't much like being the only person in a room designed for four, but in a one bedroom apartment, she'd be fine.

After school today, she'd headed for the park for a change. She would have gone to the beach, but that would have involved having the foresight to pack a towel today, which would have got annoying while she was in classes. Laying on grass didn't need that, and she'd get just as much sun in here as she would out on the shore. There wouldn't be any spray to worry about in the park either, which was nice. Smiling brightly, she dropped down onto the grass, pulling off her shoes and taking a book out of her bag. She was here to study, but sunbathing would be good too. Stretching out on the grass, she started to read, humming softly to herself.

It was so nice out here in the park, so peaceful, and so warm, that after a few hours, the girl drifted off to sleep. Having no idea what the time was, she slept right past curfew, oblivious to the trouble she'd got herself into. Hopefully if she handed herself in to the first guard she saw and explained the situation, she'd get away with just a slap on the wrist. It wasn't as if she was dangerous or trying to break the rules on purpose or anything, she'd just fallen asleep. Of course, as she was still dreaming, she wasn't going to be telling anyone anything yet, as it got later and later. She was ten minutes past curfew by now, as the first guard arrived at her location...

June had wanted to check out the park but hadn’t had the time to do so yet, so when she found out her patrol route included the park she couldn’t believe her luck. She decided that was her first location to search. Walking through the park June took in the sight of the leaves blowing gently in the wind and the sounds of the bird calls echoing through the air. She was so at peace here that at first she walked straight by the young girl and spun round as soon as she realised this.

June's first instinct was to reach for her gun but she crushed that when she noticed the person didn’t seem to be armed, though from this distance it was impossible to tell. June approached the girl slowly with her hand near to her gun just in case she needed it. Her other hand whipped out the restraints. As June crept closer and closer to the girl she began to think she was asleep and when she finally reached her she could see this was the case, sighing to herself June prodded the girl’s ribs with her foot to wake her up. “Hey kid” she said” this isn’t really the best place to be sleeping. That murderer could be anywhere”

As June looked over the girl in front of her she was sure that she was not the murderer that she and the other officers were hunting for...however that didn’t mean that she couldn’t have a little fun with this one June thought. “You going to come quietly kid. I really don’t want to have to chase you” June lied. She hoped that the girl was going to be stupid enough to run or even better to fight as she was looking for some entertainment anyway. She had hoped to find the murderer but this kid would do instead.

A kick in the ribs was far from the kind of wakeup Emily was used to, but it worked, Slowly, the girl opened her eyes, looking up at the guard. "Um...murderer?" she asked, her eyes locked on the woman's gun. Why was she reaching for a weapon? Emmy was no danger, she could see that, surely? Shuffling backwards a little, the girl slowly got to her feet, not taking her eyes off of the weapon. "What time is it? I must have dozed off, am I late home? I was just out here to study, I didn't mean to break any rules." she continued, taking another step backwards, leaving her shoes and her book laying on the grass between them. What was this woman playing at?

As she spoke again, Emily's eyes widened. Cuffs? What? Why did she need those? Taking another step backwards, Emily raised her hands, showing open palms to June. "Hey, what do you mean? I just want to go back to the dorms, you don't need those, or that gun. Please, just let me go back. Um, if you call up Doctor Bjorgen, I bet he'd tell you I'm harmless, you don't need any of that stuff." she added, her voice wavering as she backed off a little more. This was one of the scariest things she'd experienced at Hadley, second only to Braydon's attempt at raping her one night. He wasn't armed though, and nor was he in any sort of a position of power, while this woman was both.

"Please, don't hurt me." she begged, taking yet another step backwards. She didn't understand what was going on. She'd been asleep, and there was nowhere in her loose tshirt and shorts to conceal a weapon, so why was this guard reaching for a gun? Was this what island security was like these days? June had mentioned a murderer, but Emily had no idea what she was talking about, not having read the paper. Was she making things up as an excuse to shoot random patients for minuscule reasons, or was she a murderer herself, and Emily her next victim? Trembling, the girl turned, and started to run. She wouldn't get far, she knew, but she had to try. "Help me!" she screamed across the empty park, terror clear in her voice. She was going to die here, she knew it.

June smiled to herself when the prodding woke the girl up. The girl didn’t seem to know there was a murderer on the island which June was not expecting “Yes. You know? The entire reason for the curfew” she said with a surprised look on her face” they didn’t tell you?” June watched the girl get to her feet and moving away as she did so. ”Its ten past eight” June said as the girl had asked for the time”yeah you’re ten minutes late.” June noticed the girl take another step back and realised she was afraid of her. Good she thought and took a step forward but moved her hand away from her gun I can get some practice on her in case I’m the one to find the murderer.

The girl raised her hands in surrender, which disappointed June as the girl was showing signs of fleeing before. “Let you go back? Go back to where?”June questioned with a fake look of intense suspicion “Harmless? I don’t know about that. I mean for all I know you could be the very murderer we are looking for” June said and took another step towards the girl and savoured the look of fear on her face. “Dr. Bjorgen will be getting a call from me. That I guarantee” she added in the hope that veiled threat would be the tipping point and force the girl to run.

June had to hold back a laugh when she begged her not to hurt her. She was even more fun than she hoped. June moved her hand to her gun again and took a step forward to match the girls step back. “Don’t worry” she said with a cruel smile as she undid her holster “It won’t hurt a bit.” June smiled to herself as the girl finally snapped and ran while screaming for help. June watched her run away for a few seconds before taking off after her. As she ran June put away her restraints as she wasn’t going to need them for a while.

June chased the girl down but began to realise she had let the girl gain to much of a head start for even her to catch up. She knew only one option was left and frankly in her mind it was the most fun. June slowed down her run and pulled her gun from its holster. She then aimed her gun at the Girl’s lower legs and fired.

"What?" Emily asked. The curfew had been up since she'd moved to the island, it was a basic rule of the institute, and she'd broken it. Still, ten minutes wasn't so bad, was it? She'd get a slap on the wrist and a detention at most, right? After all, it wasn't as though ten minutes spent asleep in the park was going to do anyone any damage. Whatever murderer the guard was going on about though, Emily didn't want to meet her, but she was growing increasingly worried that that was exactly what she'd just done. Who but a murderer would be going for a gun over something as simple as a curfew violation? At most this was a slap on the wrist, it wasn't something to shoot a sixteen year old over!

"b...back to Saint Christina's. I'm in ward C there, I just fell asleep out here. I didn't mean to!" she replied, clearly terrified by now, still backing away. "I'm in ward C, I don't have anythign wrong with me. please, I'm harmless, I'm not going to do anything to hurt anyone." she continued, tears by now starting to roll down her face, smudging her makeup. "I don't know about any murderers. Please, just let me go home." she begged, absolutely terrified. Whatever threat the guard was trying to make about Doctor Bjorgen didn't work though, but it didn't have to. the doctor knew Emily, he was her favourite therapist. he agreed that she didn't belong in an institute, and she was planning to talk to him very soon about getting out, if she survived this encounter.

The gun came out, and Emily screamed louder than she'd ever screamed before. The sound was cut off by the sharp BANG of the weapon firing though, and for a moment, there was silence. It didn't last very long though. Soon, there was screaming again, louder and more desperate than ever before. The bullet had punched a hole through the girl's calf, exiting out the other side, and blood was pumping from the wound. Screaming desperately, Emily tried to crawl away. She didn't want to die here. Someone had to have heard the shot, and the screaming, someone would have to come. She wasn't going to be the island's second murder victim, was she?

Gunner Bjorgen had been under an immense amount of stress for the past few weeks. Blatantly, and frankly, this was mostly due to the arrival of a certain Italian contingent on the island. He was not certain yet what to expect from them, but their quietness had done nothing to settle his suspicions and had only reinforced that sense of danger in his head. it was times like these that he would have turned to a steady, alternating diet of cocaine, valium and scotch to get him through the days and nights in any sort of normalcy. But that was no longer a viable option for him, not morally. he couldn't afford to be off his game, be ruined again, not when there were three others depending on him to be a step ahead of the game. What had happened at Hadley could not be allowed to happen again. This life was too important to him now. And so to ward off the nagging voice of the drugs and the alcohol when it gripped him, he'd taken to resuming his morning runs, and spent much of the rest of his time walking the two Doberman dogs belonging to him and inherited from his mother and his late father. Carl (Jung) had come to join his brother Sigmund in Bjorgen's household, and the sight of Bjorgen traipsing all over the island with them in tow had become commonplace now. it also served to level his moods, kept the cruel impulses from completely taking over his work methods and thoughts.

He had sat down to dinner with his girls about an hour earlier. Gunner was a remarkably good cook, something he'd always prided himself on behind closed doors, and now those skills were being put to good use. Naturally, the ingredients he bought were typically top notch, and the types of meals he served were the sort that ought to be served with wine. He had promised the girls that when they turned sixteen they would be allowed a small glass of wine with dinners from time to time, but until then, he and Eleanor were the only ones to partake. Dinner was finished, and young girls were tasked with the clean-up operation of loading the dishwasher, then requested to do any homework they had remaining from school, and Bjorgen set out on his nightly walk through downtown and along the beach as he did every evening now. Sigmund and Carl followed along behind him, leashless and sniffing along hedgerows and pavements. They never strayed more than a few yards from his heels, and he was not worried in the least about them running off and getting into mischief.

Just past eight o'clock, Bjorgen and his two canine companions were making the usual rounds of the edge of town. The night was cool, damp and dark, quiet. Bjorgen really wasn't worried about the murder that had been publicised in the town papers, though he had requested that the girls stay indoors past curfew, for the next few nights at the very least. He, on the other hand, was more than adept at defending himself, not to mention the two Dobermans on his heels would undoubtedly eviscerate any individual who dared lay a hand on him. He walked with a casual ease and confidence that always seemed to carry him, and thought about the problems facing him, savouring the dark, desolate calm. At least until...

A scream from the adjacent town park made the heads and ears of Sigmund and Carl perk up in the air, standing to attention. It served much the same purpose for Bjorgen two, who stopped dead in his tracks and turned his face toward the park. His eyes were keen, his ears listening out for more sounds. He swore he recognised the voice, but he couldn't be sure. He debated investigation right up until the point a gunshot shattered the silence of the evening into a thousand pieces. Once that happened, Bjorgen was running toward the sound with ease and with two riled-up, adult Dobermans in tow. He couldn't know what he would be running into, what he would find. It could be another murder for all he knew. But he also knew that only island security carried guns -a fact to which he was highly opposed to say the least. It was possible that someone -like himself- had smuggled a weapon of their own onto the island. There were so many eventualities to this, so many possible explanations and scenarios, that he kept his mind as open as he could until, windswept and hawk-eyed, he arrived on the scene and flickered his eyes between the two involved parties. Emily, commonly known as Emmy, was on the ground, screaming, clearly wounded, and the unknown party was a young woman, armed, and clearly a member of island security.

Instinctively, and instantly, Bjorgen moved towards his fallen patient but kept his eyes trained on the imbecilic rookie with the firearm. Who the fuck ever thought that shooting a psychiatric patient was a viable option? He felt a sudden, suffocating wave of righteous rage was up over him, sliding up his throat from somewhere in the pit of his stomach, and when he spoke, his tone was caustic, icy cold, and instinctively dangerous. He stared the woman down, unflinching.

"Put the weapon on the ground, then put your hands on your head. Now." He had positioned himself between Emily and June. Sigmund and Carl bristled at his side, edging forward towards the target of Bjorgen's anger. A sharp call of "Down!" sent them to the floor, crouched on their bellies with sharp, predatory eyes fixed on the woman. Sigmund's jowls curled up in an impossibly quiet growl, baring a set of razor sharp teeth designed by nature to rend flesh from bone. Bjorgen needed to attend to Emily, but there was no room to do so until this threat had been eliminated. The first step was disarming the reprehensible idiot. So he waited for her response to his demand, with blue, glacial eyes locked on her face. He showed no fear or ideas of backing down from this.

“Oh that’s right it isn’t a new curfew, we are just getting stricter about the one in place” June said in response to the girl’s question. June knew that the rules stated that she should just take the girl back to the facility and issue a fine to her but she also knew no one else was nearby. With that in mind June figured that any situation that arose from this was just a matter of one person’s word against another’s

“Ward c huh?”June asked as a look of disappointment flashed across her face for a second before turning back to the false suspicion. “Well of course you didn’t. Doesn’t matter though because you still did it” June said while trying to keep the distance between them as short as she could by walking towards the girl as she backed away. ” No you will not hurt anyone” June said in response to the girl’s fearful attempt to convince her she is not a threat. Oh this is perfect June thought as she saw the girls face become wet with tears. ” I can't do that kid. Regardless of whether or not you knew the murder happened I have to take you in” she said in response to the girls terrified begging.

June watched the girl run. She had hoped the chase would be fun enough to keep her interest but it didn’t turn out that way. She scowled at that but soon remembered she had a different way to get fun out of the girl. This is going to be good she thought as she fired her gun at the girl. She smirked to herself when she saw the girl drop and began slowly moving towards her.

June smirked again once she was within 10 meters of the girl and raised her weapon again in order to fire a second shot. She smiled to herself as she aimed her weapon between the girl’s shoulder blades and was about to fire when a man showed up with two dogs.

The man moved between the girl and herself, staring at June as he did so. June stared back and turned her gun to aim at him instead. He then demanded that she put down her weapon and surrender. June nearly laughed but managed to hold it in. She gave him a look of disbelief that faded into a scowl when she saw that there was no fear in his eyes. “Sir this has nothing to do with you please move along” she said and made no move to lower her gun. She had no desire to surrender to a civilian and so she simply stared back and waited to see what he would do next

There were a number a of times in Gunner's life when something unexpected and potentially dangerous had happened to him. he could honestly say that having a gun pointed at him seriously was a first, however, and he felt the blood in his veins drop some degrees, crawling through the vessels like iced slush suddenly. Yes, this was certainly a first, and there would have been times in his life where he might honestly have been able to say he wasn't afraid and didn't care enough to consider the emotion. But he had a family to take care of now, and the Mafia on the island. He couldn't afford to have his brains painted all over Heron Park. However, for a long, long time it had been true that Gunner Bjorgen worked best under pressure. Emergencies and situations that ought to have called for panic made his brain feel like it was cooling down, slowing but becoming more directed. He'd been good at quick decision making with a level head before the house of cards had come down around him. But now he felt that cool veil of detachment wash over him again, as if he might watch this display from somewhere outside of his own body, an impartial observer. His eyes dropped to the barrel of the gun and then rose slowly back to the woman's face.

He had to analyse this, and quickly. Shot an unarmed, teenage civilian. For what? Doesn't matter. Shot an unarmed child. A psychiatric patient. Predisposition to irrational violence. No signs of remorse. Unstable. Was planning to shoot again. Was smiling. Lack of remorse, sadistic enjoyment. Sociopath? Delusional? What happens if she blows my brains out? No time for that. Bjorgen did not move from standing and shielding the screaming girl on the floor. It was more difficult to arrange his thoughts with the ruckus and with the pressing matter of the gun pointed his direction, but he forced the connections and forced his breath to remain stable. No time for panic. Act now, panic later. What are the chances she'll shoot me? High. She shot an unarmed child. I'm a larger target, bigger threat. But she can't shoot all three of us... A pair of critical blue eyes turned down to the two Dobermans, both of which were now growling quietly, in warning. They sensed the tension singing through the muscles of their owner like an electric charge on the air. Heckles rose along their backs, prickling the short fur upwards into the damp night air.

If she fired, she might only have time to fire once before the two dogs were upon her, rendering the gun useless. But if he sent the dogs forth, there was a chance she could take one of them out. Sigmund, who had saved his life, Carl, his brother, just as intuitive, just as beloved. Rage flared indignantly behind Gunner's eyes again, and they shot back to the face of the idiot with the gun. "This has everything to do with me. You just shot an unarmed child. A child who happens to be my patient." His tone was controlled, calm. It was a wrestle not to raise his voice and shout at the woman. The amount of self control he was exerting over himself was almost painful. "If you shoot me, the thin thread of control I have over these two dogs will snap, and you'll be lucky if security finds you before the crows are picking your bones clean. So Put. Down. The. Gun. and put your hands on your head."

If it was a choice between his life, Emmy's life, and the life of his dogs, there really was little choice, as much as the idea might genuinely pain him later. One word would send the two growling dogs barrelling in her direction, ready to rend her limbs from her torso if need be. "You seriously do not want to fuck with me. Stand down. You shoot me, and survive my dogs ripping you to shreds, and you'll be drooling into a cup for the rest of your life up on ward A. Do you understand? Stand down. NOW." With adrenaline thick in his throat, beating his heart against the inside of his rib cage, he inched a step forward, towards the woman. This was either a genuinely terrible idea, or a genius one, and time would tell. He stared hard at her face, unflinching, keeping the turmoil he was feeling inside of him from showing on his face. "My patient needs to go to a hospital before she bleeds to death. If you shoot me now, you'll be a murderer. And people will know. They'll come for you. Put the weapon on the ground and your hands on your head. I won't ask you again..."

Shock. Shock was a bad thing to be in, Emmy knew that, but she also knew full well that she was experiencing it right now. How else could she explain the way she felt, with a gaping hole in her calf and her foot at a horrendous angle? What had she done to deserve this? All she'd done was sleep, was a nap really worth her life? this guard certainly seemed to think so, but that couldn't be right, could it? With tears flowing from her face, she screamed again, still trying pitifully to crawl away, even as she heard the guard approaching. This was it, she was about to be finished off. Maybe a bullet in the head, at least that would be painless, laying here in the park and bleeding to death would be anything but.

The bullet she was waiting for never came. Instead, there was a familiar voice. Turning her head, and trying not to look at what she was terrified was the leg she was going to lose, she caught sight of him. Doctor Bjorgen, here to save her. How had he known? Had he heard the shot? The screams? It didn't matter. All that did was that he was here, shielding her. She couldn't see the sociopath who'd shot her anymore, and nor did she want to. Turning her head away from the two of them, and the two furious dogs, she listened to their exchange, lowering her head back to the cool grass. Doctor Bjorgen would save her, she was sure of it, and no-one would be stupid enough to shoot him.

tears still flowed as she listened to the doctor give orders, and a sob shook her body. That was...a mistake, and it was soon followed by another scream. Shock or not, this hurt, more than anything else she had ever experienced. She had to focus on the conversation though, had to stay conscious. Her half remembered first aid lessons taught her that. It soon became clear that she'd be dead already if it wasn't for the doctor though. Didn't concern him? Was there a single thing on this island that didn't concern him? A whimper escaped her lips as he spoke of her bleeding to death though, and she inched a little more away from the couple. Could she reach her ruined leg without injuring it more? Laying on her front like this, she doubted it. She'd probably black out if she tried anything like that, and there was no way she was ging to risk that. Whatever happened next, she was sure her life was on the line, and equally convinced the good doctor would save her. With any luck, his threat about ward A would come true whatever the psychopathic guard did too.

The man did not back down from having a gun in his face like most civilians would. He then stated that the very girl she was toying with is one of his patients. So this man is one of the staff at Saint Christina’s? June though after he had revealed why he was interfering with her game this game just got a whole lot more interesting. She was considering whether or not to fire at him when he threatened that if she did the dogs would attack and wouldn’t stop until they killed her.

June had to admit he had her on the dogs. She could easily shoot him but if she did there would be next to no chance of her being able to aim and fire at them before they reached her. To a sane mind this might have been the moment when she really considered giving up but there was no way he was going to spoil her fun with the girl. She kept the gun level with his face and continued to attempt to stare him down, though a small trace of doubt appeared in her mind


June simply stayed put with her gun still targeted at him. She scowled at him when he threatened her with a lobotomy if she survived his dogs attack. He was beginning to get to her and that she would not allow. She was adamant she was not going to lose the girl to him even if he was a doctor. She saw him take a step towards her. June didn’t know if he was either going to take her gun or possibly pull one on her. Because of this June allowed her training to take over. She shifted her aim to his right shoulder and fired

There was a lot of misconception in the world about what happened when a person got shot. Much of it was perpetrated by the media, of course, and motion pictures. People would fly backwards through the air at the impact of a bullet, amidst dramatic fires and explosion and flying glass. Gunner knew it was an implausible reality. A human body couldn't be moved that dramatically by the impact of a small piece of metal. But he couldn't honestly say he'd never planned for what to really expect either. The crazed woman with the gun didn't say anything at all in response to Gunner's words. He knew he could have been better at talking her down. He was familiar with negotiation techniques, and given more time he might even have wormed his way into her head and found the trigger to disarm her. But present circumstances were too pressing for that. She'd been aiming to shoot Emmy again, and so he had to remain the target, the biggest threat. Out of the two of them, it was a no-brainer to say who actually deserved to be shot. But it went beyond that. This was instinct, to protect. His patient, his work. He'd known Emmy for a long time now. In some ways, it might almost have been Fred or Galina laying in the grass screaming and crying. Emmy was one of his long-term patients. Did this mean he actually... cared about her?

The seasoned doctor of psychiatry knew, moments before the gun went off, that he was about to get shot. He read it from the look in the woman's eyes, and then the movement of the gun downwards. The thick, viscous adrenaline coating the back of his tongue seemed perhaps to cushion the blow. For a second he was dazed, not sure if he'd been shot, or what happened. Had she missed? He was certain he'd heard the gun go off, because the sound had caused his eyes to flinch closed despite his best efforts. But he didn't feel any pain yet, just the tension ripping through his every fibre, the clumsy galloping thunder of his own pulse. His eyes were locked on her face, but there was something almost vacant about them. Some part of his brain acknowledged the bullet lodged into the muscles and bones of his shoulder, but that part of his brain was not allowing the rest to feel it just yet. Yes. Gunner Bjorgen had been shot. He knew after some seconds that he had been shot, and he felt helpless as he watched his two canine companions spring up from the grass as if they'd been jettisoned from the earth.

The dogs were closer to June. Too close. They sprang and bounded at the small woman with jaws bared, and they let of only a couple of vicious barks before they had closed the distance between where they'd crouched and her location. Gunner was aware of the after-echoes of the gunshot, and of the barks of Sigmund and Carl slithering back to them on the night air, but there wasn't much silence any more. His ears were ringing almost deafeningly from the crack of the 9mm going off, and he knew that he had something to do. His brain struggled for a second to catch up to what that was. Why was he here? What had happened? Concentrate. Emmy. Go. With the dogs engaged elsewhere, he couldn't afford to waste any time, couldn't afford to watch and make sure that they weren't harmed in the process. He turned unsteadily on his feet and staggered to the fallen girl, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle. No pain yet. Only a matter of time... Wheezing a laboured breath of muted shock, he tugged his belt free of the belt loops and dropped none-to-gracefully to his knees beside Emmy, to loop the free end of the belt around her thigh. Medical training. Emergency training. Instinct. He just let that carry him, and didn't say anything yet, as the end of the strip of leather was pulled through the buckle, and the whole thing was tightened around Emmy's thigh. Distantly, he recalled some sort of training that told him he only had fifteen minutes before the tourniquet had to come off, and blank-faced, he turned his wrist over to look at his watch. Not yet half past eight.

He had to get Emmy to the hospital. Where was his phone? Did he know what number to call? had the thing fallen out of his pocket? Had he left it at home? He frowned, searching his pockets with his left hand. "Don't panic, Emmy. You're safe now. We're going to the hospital. You'll be fine." Finding nothing, he lifted his eyes to Emmy's face and put his left arm out toward her, to pull her close if she didn't fight him off. He wouldn't have blamed her. Some sociopath had just shot her for no reason he could really see yet. he knew Emmy, he knew she was harmless. Whatever was wrong with the security guard went beyond just what he could see with his eyes here. But now he had to figure out how to get her out of here and get to the hospital. Still no pain. Not yet.... Not yet... He wouldn't be able to carry her, he thought, acknowledging the sensation of a warm, sickly trickling down his right side. No pain. Not yet. Just hold off a few more minutes. His face was ashen, his brow moist, eye sockets hollowed. But his tone was calm. Had to be calm. He might have to go and get help if he couldn't move her himself, or if no-one came.

"She won't hurt you again. But I may need to go and get help. I can't carry you." Torn, he turned his head to glance around the park, serenaded by the snarls of two full grown Dobermans who weren't being called off. Someone had to have heard, surely. Someone who lived near by. Someone walking back from the bar. Security. Anyone...

“Corsi, I get that you’re dedicated to the job and all that bullshit, but you need to go home and get some shut-eye. You don’t live here, man. It’s just a job. Go home.”

Standing in front of his assigned locker, Lorenzo nodded vaguely at the words that were being spoken to him by his superior officer. The motion was more automatic that a signal that he agreed with what was being said. Because, in all honesty, he didn’t. Some of it he agreed with, sure. He was very much dedicated to the job. Protecting those kids, and now the adult patients, was his prime directive. It was the reason that he’d taken the security job at Hadley, in the first place. He was a protector. It was in his nature. Always had been. Even when he’d failed to protect the most important person...the one person he should have never failed to protect...Isabel...he took a job that he hoped would help to redeem him. That’s what Hadley had been for him. A chance at redemption. Tired eyes stared at the wrinkled photo taped on the inside of the door of the locker. The smiling, happy face of his dead daughter stared back at him. Her eyes so much like his own; minus the guilt and the sadness. He hadn’t been there to protect her...to save her when she needed him the most. And no matter what anyone told him, he knew that things would have turned out differently if he had just been there that night.

“Corsi! You still here? Thought I told you to get outta here?”

“Yeah...yeah, I’m just...getting my personal effects. I’m leaving now.”

“Ok...hey, you want someone to drive you home? You look like shit.”

“No. I’m fine. Like you said...I just need some shut-eye. I’ll see you guys later.”

Reaching into the locker, Lorenzo carefully peeled off the tape from the corners of his daughter’s picture. He slid the picture into his back-pocket as the metallic clang of the slammed locker door followed him out of the building. ”It’s just a job.” Bullshit. For some of the other security officers this was just a job. For the ex-Marine it was more than that. Much more. It was a calling. A way of life. An obsession. A second chance.

As he drove away from St. Christina’s, he contemplated his next move. It was still kind of early. Too early to go home and stare at the walls until sleep overtook him at the ungodly hours of the morning. Where to go? What to do? He’d heard that the quirky little nurse that he’d befriend back at Hadley had made the move along with the rest. But he hadn’t come across her during his rounds at the facility. If she was on the island, she was probably stationed at the Medical Center. Maybe I should drop in for a visit? He glanced at the building as he drove past it. No. Even if Julie was there, he wasn’t the type to just show up unannounced. It was both rude and weird. Alternatively, there was the Black Creek Inn &Tavern. The promise of a cold beer and the possibility of non-patient company was very tempting. And still, he kept driving. Past the tavern and even past his apartment. When he finally stopped his Jeep, he found himself staring at the scenic view of the park. Heron Park. The name made him wonder if it was any way connected to a certain little hayshark that he’d met once. Poor kid... Turning off the engine, Lorenzo leaned forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. He was tired and just a little depressed. He needed a drink or a nap. Maybe even both. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of the jumbled mess of thoughts that threatened to consume his tired brain. He soon felt himself begin to drift off...

BANG!

Lorenzo’s eyes snapped open and he shot up from his near slumped over position in the driver’s seat of the car. The sound that he’d just heard was both loud and unmistakable. A fucking gunshot?! Moving swiftly from the car, the ex-Marine’s instincts took over and soon he was sprinting towards the sound. The average person didn’t run towards dangerous situations. But it seemed perfectly natural for him. As he ran, his mind ran through the possibilities. Was someone in trouble? Did someone get shot? Was some dumb-ass rookie playing with their gun? Because it was a required part of the uniform, Lorenzo carried his firearm. But to him it was a useless piece of equipment. When he found put that security was authorized and required to carry guns, he knew that something bad was going to happen. What of a patient grabbed an officer’s gun? What if some chicken-shit officer couldn’t handle a patient and used their gun? There were too many “what-ifs” when it came to the guns. But like any good soldier, he’d kept his mouth shut and did as he was told.

It didn’t take long for the security officer to arrive on the scene. Trained to take stock of a situation in a matter of seconds, quick eyes scanned and processed the information in front of him, quickly. Girl on ground. Gunshot wound to the leg. Man on ground next to girl. Gunshot wound to the shoulder. Crazy bitch with a gun. Pissed off dogs. It also didn’t take Lorenzo long to realize who the man with the bullet hole in his shoulder was. He dropped to one knee next to the bleeding doctor. He looked into the other man’s eyes to gauge his condition. “Dr. Bjorgen. We need to get you and the girl to the medical center. My jeep is just back there...keys in the ignition. Can you walk, sir? ” Lorenzo broke eye contact to look at the belt pulled tight around the clearly terrified girl’s leg. Obviously, the Doctor was lucid enough to set up a makeshift tourniquet. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to bite back the rage that had begun to build the moment he saw the girl on the ground. What kind of sick fucking idiot would shoot a child? Lorenzo couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but he recognized her. She was one of the harmless patients. A good kid, from what he could tell. He suddenly had a vision of himself standing to his feet and giving the trigger happy woman a taste of her own cruelty. Everything in Lorenzo’s very soul wanted to put a bullet in both of the woman’s kneecaps, just to make it easier for the dogs to get to her throat. But she wasn’t the priority. He needed to get Bjorgen and the girl some medical attention, quickly. However, he also needed to make sure that the woman was no longer a threat.

Emmy stayed where she was, prone and sobbing on the ground, even as the second shot rang out. She screamed again, but by now her throat was raw, the sound far quieter than the scream of pure terror that escaped her lips when she was shot first. She didn't feel the bullet hit her this time, but if anything, that just made it worse. What if she'd just been shot in the spine? What if she'd never walk again? or...what if the sociopath had shot Doctor Bjorgen? Emmy didn't understand why any of this was happening. What had the good doctor done to get himself shot? All he'd done was try to help her, but then, all she'd done was take a nap. This guard was obviously insane, and if Emmy was in any state, she'd be wondering who the hell hired her.

Emily could hear the noises the dogs were making, though she didn't want to, at all. It was sickening, there was no other way to describe it, and with another pitiful sob, she put her head on the ground and crossed her arms behind it. The dogs wouldn't hurt her, she hoped, but she didn't know what was going on behind her. She had to though. She had to know if Bjorgen was alive. Taking a few seconds to collect herself, she took a deep breath, and rolled over onto her back. A piercing scream escaped her raw throat as her shattered leg was moved, but keeping that side to the ground had stopped there being too much damage, she hoped.

Shaking with pain, she forced her eyes open, only to find herself looking straight at Bjorgen. He was alive! And he was...playing with his belt? What? Before she could say anythign though, the tourniquet was on. He'd probably just saved her life, but her eyes were locked on the wound to his shoulder. He spoke, and she gave no response, not until he made eye contact. "Thank you." she whispered tearfully, tearing her gaze away from his wound, and doing her best not to look at her own. "I'm sorry." she added, closing her eyes again as another sob shook her body. "I understand." she whispered again, opening her eyes and slipping an arm around his good side when he'd pulled her close enough. "I'm sorry." she repeated. if she hadn't overslept, they wouldn't both need major surgery. Did this place even have the facilities to handle them both at once?

"Please don't leave me. I'm scared." she whispered as Lorenzo approached, oblivious to the presence of the guard. If she'd known he was there and what he was, she'd be screaming again, not just sobbing like this. "I don't want to die out here. I don't want you to die either. I'm sorry doctor. Promise me we'll both live?" she added, sobbing again. She'd wanted to talk to him about being discharged from Saint Christina's, not begging him for promises like that. Why was life so cruel to people like them? She'd done nothing wrong, and the doctor was a good man, what was that guard thinking? What was the mayor thinking when he'd armed them?

The other man's voice snapped her out of it, and her head snapped around to Lorenzo with what she thought was impossible speed. he sounded like staff, he knew the doctor, and he was going to help them. She didn't need to say anything else, the staff would handle things. Closing her eyes again, she leaned her head against the doctor's chest. She was cold. Why was she cold? She wouldn't say anythign though, the other man was going to help them, both of them, somehow. Maybe, in six months, a year, or more, everythign would even get back to something that would be considered normal. One thing was for sure though, she'd never wear shorts again. not with scars like she was going to get from this.

June stared at the man for a second after shooting him with that same twisted smile on her face. She would have taken the time to enjoy the fact that she had two people’s lives in her hands had she not remembered the danger of the dogs. The second she had taken to gloat would now cost her as she had no time to aim at the dogs let alone fire. The first one slammed into her taking her off her feet without effort. June felt like she had ran straight into a brick wall however that was to be the least of her issues as the other dog joined the attack almost instantly after the first

June felt terrified as the dogs jaws began snapping at her while she desperately tried to hold off their attacks with wild and often off target punches and kicks. One thing that felt worse than the fear however was the knowledge that she had lost. She wasn’t going to get the wonderful feeling she gets whenever someone’s life or death depends on her actions. A wave of anger swept over June as she realised this only to be quickly overtaken by a wall of pain as one of the dogs managed to bite down on her right arm.

June could not hold back the agony of the bite and was forced to scream. Running on desperation and adrenaline only, June tried to swing a punch at the dog on her right arm but another bite to her left leg sent another wave of agony over her. It was then that June completely realised that the dogs were going to kill her unless they got called off. She stared into the nearest dogs open jaws as she awaited the next wave of agony.

Anyone walking in upon the scene of two Dobermans attacking a small young woman probably would have been horrified by what they saw. Hell, anyone who had been there the whole time probably should have been too, but Gunner felt no pangs of remorse or empathy for the bitch who had shot an unarmed child, and then shot HIM for trying to intervene and protect his patient. Emily's fear was a tangible taste upon the air to the trained psychiatrist. He'd experienced this many times before, sometimes at his own hand. but he felt, or he hoped, that times had changed now, that he really could be a better man than he had been for so many years. And yet, at the same time as he felt this overwhelming protective urge, he heard that angry voice in the back of his head insisting that the next wave of tangible fear should be that of the security officer who had shot Emily and then shot him. He still didn't feel the pain yet, not that he was aware of, and he gathered the fallen girl to him as she let him, and glanced over his shoulder towards the dogs and the woman. A rational mind, a normal mind, might have cringed, but Gunner felt nothing. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe his mind wasn't letting him feel anything. Not yet.

In one sense, he was in a state of hyper-awareness. He knew what needed to be done, and that he had to be the one to do it. But on the other hand, his head was muddled, and he completely missed the quiet approach of another security officer, this time from the facility. He recognised the man, knew that they had passed each other in the hallways too many times to count, but he couldn't seem to dredge up his name through the fog of quietly humming nerves, and the cold sweat slicking his back. Alarmingly, he also knew that he knew the man's name. He knew the names of all of the Hadley staff that had moved, and all of the patients. He'd made it his job to know these things, and frequently names and files came to him without much effort at all. Now he was simply glad that the man had shown up and lacked much more capacity to worry about his own mental state. Perhaps it was shock that was carrying him through the ordeal, or perhaps just the buzz of adrenaline keeping his muscles all working in their usual unison. Whatever it was, it wasn't as kind on his mind as time wore on. He seemed in some capacity to stare through Lorenzo as the guard peered into his face, but he was certainly acknowledging his presence, which was something. He managed a nod at the question of whether he could walk, and skirted his eyes back to the woman and the dogs for a second.

He had to walk. He had to walk or risk bleeding to death out here were no-one could do anything about it, least of all himself. "Yes, I can walk," he assured the guard, an addition to his nod or maybe an assurance to himself. He would walk, but he would not be able to carry Emmy. She wouldn't be left alone now, but the psychiatrist had to extract himself from her, and he did so as gently as he could manage, leaving her free for the security officer to carry. A silly, whimsical thought considered that they would make a terrible mess of the Jeep the man claimed to have, and another part of his mind told it to shut up while Sigmund and Carl made unpleasant noises in the background. Dazed, Bjorgen managed with effort to push himself back to his feet. How far away was the Jeep? Was anyone else coming? It seemed to Gunner as if it might as well be miles away, but the grass felt fluid under his feet. Like taffy. As if it could stretch and contort under his weight. The sensation wasn't wholly unfamiliar, reminding him of drug-fuelled nights wandering the hallways of old Hadley, before the grand old house had been torn down and replaced by the modern, soulless buildings that followed. The good days. The simple days. How far away that all felt now. About as far away as the Jeep felt, anyway, but he forced his feet to keep moving just as he'd force another lap of the track, or another exercise rep.

With each step away from the scene of the crime, and with the snarls of Sigmund and Carl growing fainter through the heavy, darkened air of the park, the jangling buzz of adrenaline seeped out of his pores like precious air escaping his lungs. At some point, his left arm had folded over his right, cradling its weight. Not yet. No pain yet. Just a little further to go. He was ashen by the time the street lights illuminated the parked vehicle, and damp with sweat that prickled his skin like pins and needles. Disconnected blue eyes seemed to burn almost feverishly in his face, all the more striking for the lack of colour in his complexion. Just a few more steps. Where are the dogs? What if she...

"Call my dogs back..." He murmured with an edge of urgency about the tone that was lacking in the volume of his voice. Sigmund and Carl would surely kill the woman if left out there, and then what would happen to them? Would they be destroyed? Might she shoot one of them? And perhaps more pressingly... He didn't want the woman to die because it would deprive him the satisfaction of watching her break under his very specific training. He turned on his feet once they were by the vehicle, and squinted through the darkness in the direction they had come from. He didn't trust his voice enough to carry over that distance, and he leaned against the front wheel-well of the vehicle tiredly as he murmured again. "Call them back. Get someone down here. She can't die. She doesn't deserve that mercy." A coherent Gunner wouldn't have admitted that out loud. But a coherent Gunner was not standing there, starting to feel the blazing agony begin on his right side. He wheezed a breath out in a low rush, and mustered his nerve through the pain. It was sobering, in a way, like a slap to the face or a cold glass of water. This was a brief window of time between dazed and senseless, and incapacitated with pain. He felt sick, shaky like he'd had too much cocaine, and his eyes sought out Lorenzo in the sickly cast of the orange sulphur lights. He had to take advantage of this snippet of coherency.

"Sigmund and Carl. They should listen if you call their names." His tone was crackly, corroded and breathy around the edges in a tone reminiscent of a man who'd perhaps just caught a glancing blow to the groin. That unpleasant space between either no pain, or being incapable of speech or noise at all. Chilly sweat slid down inside the back of his collar. He looked rather like he was either going to up-chuck, or take a face dive. He managed to do neither for now, and sucked in hasty, deep gulps of air to ward off the unwelcome sparkles around the edges of his vision.