The Day Marked Red

[Lindbeck]

Chapter 1

"Aaah... this new luxury appartment home office of mine sure has its advantages."

Dr. Kai-Otto Lindbeck, chief of staff surgery in the rebel clan organization of Forsaken, had just woken from a good nights sleep.

Moving from the old, wore-down appartment in Old Athens and into a brand new luxury appartment in the city of Jobe had been a tremendous success. The schedule had been packed with clients ever since he put the first announcement out. Dr. Lindbeck now had the privilege of choice... who to treat and who to put back on the street. This privilege had ensured that most of his clients came from the upper social classes of society. Clients with credits. On the waiting list of Dr. Lindbeck money was the cure.... for mostly anything.

A lifetime of education and experience as both a domestic doctor and battlefield medic, provided Lindbeck with a good reputation. A reputation that travelled all over Rubi-Ka and far into the waste Shadowlands. A well balanced mixture of devastating poison and life-giving elixirs had won many victories for the clans. Dr. Kai-Otto Lindbeck had become a token of health and well-being. A natural first-choice in any situation.

Lindbeck sat down in his big leather chair behind a huge oak office desk. A feeling of being at the starting point of a very good day came over him. He reached for his black book of appointments, while he enjoyed the warm smell of coffee and the sparkling of twilight.

"Ok, let's see what exciting health issues we have to deal with this morning."

Lindbeck wet his finger and flipped over to the next page. The day was tuesday, and it was marked with a big red circle. No names or additional info. The doctor raised an eyebrow. Normally the color red in the appointment book would be blood. A red fingerprint or a stain. Maybe even a whole page drenched in blood. Not like this. This was different. This was the artwork of a fat red marker.

"Hmm. Strange. Seems i should remember something about this day."

And there it was. Like a fly in the soup.

The ringing of the doorbell.

The day marked red had begun.

[Legrandchef]

The red was merely a symbol for the blood of his profession but the circle had not been written by him and his difficulty in remembering its purpose came from the fact that he had not written it himself. His memory had been fooled by the very human tendency to forget unpleasant past experiences and push them out of the way to the back of the mind. It is quite easy to see that no doctor likes to remember his failures and that dead patients are not good for one's reputation in the medical profession. The problem with dead patients is that they have families and friends who remember what happened to them. The red circle had been drawn by a brother of a patient who had died on the operating table under Lindbeck's knife. The circle was to remind Lindbeck that what goes around comes around. The brother came from a society where there is no time limit on honour and had chosen to wait a long time for his revenge, knowing that this is a dish best eaten cold. A dim and faint unrest stirred the depths of the good doctor's memory but was too weak for the moment to rise to the surface. The day went on its usual course with lucrative operations on the faces of rich patients and then breast enlargements for which the doctor had a different system of payments not usual to the medical profession. He would often say that he had to examine the results of his work closely to make sure the operation had been successful. He called this his aftercare service which he gave to his patients (but only the good-looking ones). Today was not going to finish on the same happy note. As he finished his work for the day he went to his car and saw it had a parking ticket on it. The parking ticket had a red circle on the back.....