As the two crashed into the pub, they got a few displeased glances from the nighttime pub goers, who grumbled at the disturbed atmosphere. Ivorio didn’t give any of them a second glance, as they were too short on time.
Luckily, is was mere moments when the man named Marco showed up. He was a little shorter than Scarlet and Margaret, and wore an open brown shirt over his bare chest. A sash was wrapped around his waist, and a pistol was barely concealed within. His pale blue hair was cut very short, and on the side of his jaw was a tattoo of a stylized sun. His thin eyes glinting from the small amount of light at the three, he said, “Oh dear, let’s not waste any time.” Pushing past them, he led the way out, heading out into the walkways outside.
As they walked, he looked over to Ivor and Margaret, noting their prison garb and saying, “Well, that explains the ruckus up above. You’ve caused us a little trouble you know.”
Ivor grumbled, “Hey, I’m just doing what I need too.”
Marco shrugged, “I suppose there’s no fault in that...”
After what felt like ages, the group finally arrived at a fairly large building, the top built into the rocky ceiling above. There was another stylized sun mark like Marco’s tattoo above the door, but Ivor didn’t question it. Marco knocked on the door, and a small, sliding hatch opened on the portal, before closing, and the door opened. As they walked into the building, which had various people about, Marco called out, “Someone wake up Dara!”
Moving up a set of stairs and taking a turn, the group reached a door, opening it into a medical room, with a pair of beds and several shelves of supplies. Ivor wasted no time in getting Margaret onto one of the beds.
After a few minutes, the group was greeted by yet another face. It was a woman, who stood a little shorter than Margaret. She wore black pants underneath a large, brown poncho, which fluttered a bit as she staggered sleepily into the room. Her pale hands went to work on her long blonde hair, pinning it up into a bun. Her eyes were half lidded, but something seemed off about them. She also had visible surgical scars at the edges of her drool stained lips. Turning away from the others, she mumbled, “G-good morning.” Ivor blinked as the woman known as Dara headed over to one of the shelves, coating her hands in gloves and putting on a face mask, before waving her hands, “Please leave, I can take things from here...”
With a nod, Marco complied, taking Scarlet and Ivorio from the room, closing the door behind them. As it swung shut, there was a clattering as a fair number of metal implements, such as scalpels, hit the ground. With a bit of worry, Ivor asked, “Er, is she gonna be okay?”
Marco smiled, “She’ll wake herself up in no time. Er, you mean the wounded girl? Yeah, probably.” At the uncertain glances, Marco grinned wider, explaining, “Seriously though, Dara’s a genius.” Looking over Ivor, he said, “And brilliant surgeons require brilliant pay.”
Getting the implication, Ivor scratched his head, muttering, “Oh right, money.” Helpless in that department he looked over to Scarlet hopefully.