22 NOVEMBER 1894 - ST. DENIS, LEMOYNE
It was meant to be someone else. He waited, patiently, biding his time, evading the law while playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. In the end though, he chose someone else.
He hadn't been able to operate in the field. An arrow through the lung -- just like the man in Van Horn -- the first test. Only unlike the man in Van Horn, Danielle had a fighting chance to survive this, if he could work fast enough.
Thanks to quick teamwork, they managed to makeshift a chest tube to drain out the air that had escaped into her chest cavity. The hole in the lung was too big to self heal, so there they were in the hospital, doing what they could to save her. She was conscious, but in enormous pain. Thank god he'd spirited away some morphine -- if the lawmen asked where he got it, he'd be honest, but hopefully they were too distracted by the attempted murder to read into it. Once some heavy pain meds were on board, she was much easier to operate on.
With Hoffman's help, it went as well as it could. Maybe it was good fortune to thank, maybe it was Kane's skill with a scalpel -- maybe both. It mattered not as long as she survived. They were going to need her for the trials ahead.
Sloth.
"Really, Ebony?" Kane asked aloud to the quiet office as he packed up some supplies for the road. "I mean... okay, you're right, it works, but only from a specific narrow perspective." He shrugged, standing up and pacing a bit. "A bit contrived, no? Though, now that you mention it actually, I do enjoy the idea of a languid apathetic god..."
He snapped his doctor's bag closed and threw a duffle over his shoulder. He chuckled to himself as realization hit, "Maybe you're right. After all, I have always said I hated being in the field. This is my domain." He motioned to the ornate city doctor's office. “Sloth. Me? I’m flattered.”
He locked up his valuables and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Despite it being Lemoyne, he could feel the bite of winter encroaching. There'd be snowfall soon, he could smell it. He lit a cigarette and held it to his lips. He inhaled as he imagined the killer coming for him. What would it be like? Would he try to surprise him? Appear from a darkened alleyway? Follow him through the woods? Take aim from atop a building and pierce his heart with one of his dreaded obsidian arrows?
Kane's heart rate increased, his breathing quickened. He felt the muscles in his legs and back tighten in preparation to run as he visualized the impending doom. He saw him... bare chested and glistening appear from the shadows, the glint of a knife in his hand. The cigarette burned abandoned in between his fingers as Galen was lost in reverie. The sound of padded feet on cobblestone, the resonant growl of his voice. The doctor stiffened at the thought of it, the thrill of it.
"Ow!" he dropped the stub of a cigarette. Realization set in and his cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment, "Bloody hell."
He crushed the ember under his boot as he turned down the road. It was time to disappear, at least until the police had some kind of plan.