Keeping Tabs - Kong: Skull Island

Part 1

If I have to choose between one evil and another, I'd prefer not to choose at all.

-Geralt of Rivia, Witcher

They found her working in Pakistan. They'd tracked her through India, Fiji, Russia, New Zealand, Vietnam and now Pakistan. She'd been through over six countries in less than two years. Dr. Theodosia Tran.

A makeshift building set up in the back alley of nowhere, it was a chaotic mess, people running in and out constantly, yelling at each other in several different languages. Inside, a dark-haired woman worked swiftly, seemingly unaffected by the thrumming stress of those around her. Her hands moved with precision, cleaning blood off with rags, stitching up flesh, brushing her fingers across the foreheads of patients lying in beds, wrapping and unwrapping bandages. It was barely even a building, let alone a hospital, but it worked. Barely. Scraping by with minimal supplies, even less sleep, and still making the six block trek to the morgue most days. Too many days. She was an army medic, then doctor, then leader and agent, served her way up the ranks in the military before she realised she was doing more harm than good, quit and chose to live where no one even knew her name. To help others fight for second chances, to serve penance for the lives lost on her watch.

That's where the two men found her, one short and white, looking every bit the tourist in this part of the country, the other taller and black. Bill Randa and Houston Brookes. Her various sources throughout the city had let her know who they were as soon as their plane had landed, she had a lot of contacts, particularly for situations like this when American government members came looking for her.

The two men awkwardly shouldered their way into the crowded room, it was early in the day, nearly half past four in the morning, a narrow time slot where it was just her and any patients staying the night. The woman looked up as they entered, bent over an unconscious young boy lying on a thin mat on the floor. She said something in Hindu, confusion written across her face at the two strange men in her workspace. Randa shook his head at her, "We know you speak English, Miss Tran."

The young woman stood up, dusting her hands off on her grimy clothes, brows furrowing at them. She was slight, dark skinned and with even darker eyes that were currently scrutinising them. Tattered clothes draped her frame and dark brown hair was tied tightly back in a bun. Brookes glanced at her hands, they were scarred, rippled with tissue. She noticed and scowled at him, tucked them into her pockets. "It's Doctor." She said thinly, in clear English, her voice rough. "What do you want?"

"You're a hard woman to find, Dr. Tran. Six different countries in less than two years. We've had tabs on you for a while, but now we're in need of your particular skillset." Brookes held up a briefcase and went to open it but she halted him with a hand movement. "Just tell me what it is."

So he did.

She raised an eyebrow judgmentally, crossing her arms. "Seriously? You've got to be kidding. Has someone already told you all the ways you're going to die or do I have to?"

The two men remained serious, although Brookes was nervously tapping his leg and scanning the room every two seconds. "It's just a surveying mission. But the island is completely uncharted, there's a chance someone might get hurt and your skills in different environments would be invaluable."

Her brows stayed furrowed, "You're going to need more than just me to survive that hell-trap. Who else you got?"

Randa and Brookes exchanged glances, Randa answered. "Our next stop is a tracker in Saigon."

She looked surprised. "Conrad."

Randa looked confused. "You know him?"

She grinned, showing them for the first time a little bit of humanity that Randa knew was the reason she did what she did. "Yep. Let me give you a tip, he's going to want money,and whatever you offer him, he's going to want at least four times that. Specially for this type of bullshit job." She paused. Shook her head and muttered something to herself in Vietnamese.

"I'll go. You pay for flights and whatever gear I need, and you send a replacement to work here while I'm gone." She sent a glance around the room and then at the boy next to her feet, sweat shining on his forehead. "I want them capable, adaptable and here before I leave."

Randa agreed. "You can come with us to the boat. Our flight leaves the airport at 7:30, bay 17."

She nodded. "See you there then."

She sat up late into the morning, watched the sun rise as she scrubbed crimson flecks off her hands and waited. 

This is crazy. 

Half of her hoped Conrad wouldn't sign on. The other half knew that wouldn't happen. She'd met him once, in '72. She had been working in a remote village in Danang, helping some of the locals when a haggard group of men had staggered in, led by a certain James Conrad. 12 pilots and one former SAS agent turned tracker. He had left the morning, slipping out unseen, whereas she had stayed for the next few weeks, helping the soldiers recover from various wounds and burns. She never got to speak with him, and he had never even gotten a glance at her, their paths seeming to slide parallel but not touch each other. But she'd kept tabs on him ever since, intrigued by this mysterious hero.

She looked down at her hands again, at the invisible blood coating it that only she could see and she knew she could never wash off. 

Just a surveying mission. 

She'd been lied to enough in her life to know when she was hearing them.

- song of the day - here we go again

21 guns - green day

there we go, first chapter down :)