Ausente sin Culpa ni Presente sin Disculpa | Dificultad

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Cecilia, while administering medical care, runs into the people who destroyed her clinic.

Well before X-Corps had gone into mothballs, Cecilia had spent plenty of time in this neighborhood on the poorer side of Tegucigalpa. An epidemic of dengue fever had been spreading through the city when she first arrived however many years ago. MSF worked mostly out of medical centers here, but she and Carmen made sure to take the time to stray into the slums, where early diagnosis and fast treatment weren't as likely.

Hospitals could only get you so far.

A similar impulse had led her here today, a loaded bag of medical supplies on her shoulder. A few familiar faces had greeted her as she walked through the neighborhood, and it pleased her to be recognized. It wasn't long before a group of women approached, asking for help with cuts and wounds, for drugs for feverish children or advice on their husband's ailments.

She was stationed now in the front of a woman's home (shack would be a more accurate descriptor, but living conditions here no longer shocked her), treating a young mother's burns. As she listened to the lady chatter on, she looked up to see a line of potential patients growing in front of her.

It wasn't what she'd bargained for, but at least she'd get something concrete done while she was here.

"...I tell you, man, she wanted me! And she was hot. Like, like a model or something." The man boasting in loud Spanish as he walked along the muddy street with his companions could have stepped out of a bad drug cartel movie. Faded, dirty jeans and a stained wifebeater, combat boots and a bandanna tied around his head. His hair was lank and greasy and his face, under the stubble, sallow and unpleasant looking. All of which combined to make his story extremely unlikely. "And when I fucked her, she was so into it, begging me for more!"

"Uh huh," his taller co-thug replied with a skepticism as thick as the growing midday heat. He was the tallest of the three men, and the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants was displayed without any effort toward subtlety. He waved a hand dismissively, even though his attention was equally split between the aforementioned comradely boasting and giving glares to passing strangers as they prowled. "I have heard plenty of stories of you and begging, Manuel, but I am a gentleman and will leave your mother out of this."

Spoilers: this one was not a gentleman.

As if to underscore the point, he paused to focus his glare on the growing crowd of women centered around Cecilia. He squinted skeptically, moving one hand toward his gun and the other to make a broad, sweeping gesture toward the assembled group.

"Javier, see what the commotion is about."

Flicking some excess moisture away with one hand, Javier nodded upward once and headed over to see what was going on. He elbowed a few people out of the way, ignoring the reactions from those he cut in front of, as they quickly quieted when they saw his own firearm in plain view.

He squinted at the bag of medical supplies, unable to make out just what they were until he saw how they were being used. It took him a few more seconds to process things, as Javier wasn't the quickest on the uptake, but once he realized what was going on he snapped his fingers loudly.

"That chick is handing out medical supplies and shit, yo. I think she's treating people too or somethin'." Then he pointed to some of the people lined up waiting to be seen. "And look who she's givin' it to!" He spat on the ground to emphasize his disgust.

Even as she focused on finishing her stitches above a young man's eyebrow, Cecilia sensed some of the crowd starting to disperse. The chatter grew a little fainter, and she could hear the nervous tones of some of the women closer to her, even if she wasn't completely attuned to what they were saying. It didn't faze her, exactly, but she stopped working for long enough to look over her shoulder and see her line breaking up.

Cecilia sighed, then went back to work. The man in front of her said nothing but she could sense him urging her to finish. "¿Qué?" She gave him a reassuring smile as she tied off the last stitch. It wasn't like she needed to ask. She lived here for long enough to guess what it meant. People in Tegus had two things to fear. "¿La policia or los pandilleros?"

"Someone who's gonna make you wish you'd stayed home, bitch," replied Manuel, hawking back snot and spitting into the dust by Cecilia's feet. "Who told you that you could come here, doctoring our enemies?"

Well. There was her answer. Cecilia reached into her bag for a small tube of Neosporin. She handed it to the man, then clicked her tongue and nodded in the direction of the street. He got the message, joining most of the people who had been waiting for medical care in scattering. A handful stood by (including the woman whose home Cecilia had more or less commandeered), waiting to see whether the situation would escalate or defuse.

"Enemies?" She turned to face the three men. They were slight men, all of varying height. And they were younger than she'd thought they'd be. The braggadocio made her expect people a bit more seasoned. Although given how quickly gangs recruited in Honduras, age wasn't always commensurate with experience. "I'm doing my job," she said calmly and evenly, her quiet Spanish a stark contrast to their tones. "These people needed help. I gave it to them."

"Nah, nah, these people don't need any help," Javier said with a grin, turning his gaze on the people who'd been lined up, daring them to contradict him. "They don't look hurt to me. They look hurt to you guys?" he asked his comrades, the fingers of one hand idly tapping the handle of his gun for all to see.

"No, they just look stupid." The tall one answered with the tone of someone who wasn't here to play. In fact, it was almost clipped. He had advanced toward the meager house as his cohorts intimidated the patients. His eyes stayed locked on Cecilia. "Are you stupid, doctora?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, instead breaking eye contact to address the paltry crowd.

"You will donate your supplies so that those who are loyal get what they deserve."

Manuel snorted back a laugh — now they were going to have some fun. He clicked his fingers, gesturing to Cecilia to bring her supplies. "Now, doctora," he commanded. "You want to help? Charity is good for the soul."

Cecilia's eyes narrowed. "What, exactly, is the problem here? These are mostly women and children, who need help. How is this any business of yours?"

"Lady," Javier started with a snort, "anything and everything that happens in this neighborhood is our business, because this is our neighborhood." He gazed around at the crowd, continuing when no one dared contradict him. "Our neighborhood, our business, our supplies." He mirrored Manuel's gesture, snapping his fingers as he looked back to Cecilia expectantly.

Cecilia followed his gaze, looking at the on-looking crowd. She was at a decision point, she knew it. And, as she looked back at the men — boys, really — in front of her, she knew what she'd do, foolish as it was. "Fine. I'll leave your neighborhood. But I'm taking these with me." She didn't turn her back to collect her things - she knew it was a challenge more than anything.

"You deaf, lady? Javier said the supplies stay." Manuel took a step forward, hand dropping to the gun stuffed in his waistband. "Or do you want that we take down this place same as we did the clinic?"

"You..." Cecilia shook her head. Her face grew hot. "You destroyed my clinic? Are you f... " Her hands were shaking for a second, and her face was growing hot. "I mean, why? What kind of people are you that you'd..." She shook her head, still more angry than anything. "Monsters," she finally spat out, her rage getting the best of her. "Monsters."

The apparent ringleader, who had show to show any of the emotion his smelly and sweaty comrade had, sighed heavily at this remark like he was dealing with a child. A child that needed to be punished.

"That's Oscar, bitch," he replied flatly while leveling the gun toward Cecilia in a practice motion, "De Los Neo. You don't mess with us and live."

He punctuated that with a gunshot.