Meet The Sister (Or, Alternatively, Meet Doctor Rosemary Livingston)Mature

"No, no, no, no..." A lab coat paced the stone floor. Inside it, there was a woman with blonde hair in disarray and the clean smell of bleach and crinkly sterile plastic.

She was a neurosurgeon. A neurosurgeon who worked with dead bodies. Unusual, sure, but not impossible. She also worked with living people, too, but only when forced, and only if the matter was urgent and pressing. She was rumoured to be the absolute best at what she did.

But right now she just wanted to know that her sister was alive.

"Rosemary!" A voice echoed through the small, cramped holding cell. She hated cramped spaces.

"Agent Carlson, do you have a pass to release the detainee?" A different tenor spoke up, and the rapid footsteps abruptly stopped. 

"Now, you listen here, Gunther. That 'detainee' is my sister. She is a prominent figure in the medical industry, and has done revolutionary work regarding the human brain. She also probably knows at least twenty pressure points that she could utilize to knock you out. By extension, that means I do too. Now let me in the damn holding cell and give me the f*cking key."

There was silence, and then a grunt and a very pissed off sounding voice saying, "Hand over the keys before you get kneed, you giant brute."

A quiet clink of metal was the only sound after that, and then there were faint footsteps rounding the corner, and Dr. Livingston, renowned neurosurgeon, sighed in relief, slumping against the brick wall.

It was her sister.

Andrea unlocked the holding cell quickly, moving in to explain why news of her departure hadn't reached the doctor.

She was cut off by a hug.

The End

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