As badly as Anise wanted to know who that lady was and why she was there, she couldn't focus on anything but the Head Doctor. She stared up at the man, trying to burn his image into her memory. For almost three weeks she and her friends had been pushed around by some unseen bastard. She was going to make damn sure she never forgot his face.

Claude started asking questions, which was probably a good thing, since he got them out more intelligibly than Anise probably could. The Guardian was trembling with anger and fear, and she knew that if she talked to the Head Doctor instead, she wouldn't stop until she finished screaming every last one of her complaints to him.

The man gave a response that was fairly typical, going by the way he acted on the intercom. But when he swept his arm upward...

Anise felt a piercing pain in her left shoulder. Just below her collar bone, it felt like something sharp had dug its way deep below her skin. With a gasp, the girl stumbled backwards, her leg catching on one of the seats, making her fall down onto it in a sitting position. Her fingers brushed across the afflicted area, searching for the weapon that was hurting her - a knife, she thought - but there was nothing there. Just a deep wound, and a growing stain of dark red on the front of her shirt.

"What's happening!?" she cried, her voice strained with panic.