Ann
Medical aid is being given to those affected by a battle between gods.
Jerri
Being outside of a hospital wasn't ideal for surgery, but Sasha didn't have much of a choice. The world was a battleground for the gods, and it didn't always mean a clean room or even a doctor was readily available. Sometimes it was just a piece of neutral territory carved out for temporary refugee camps where medical tents were erected. Sometimes it was the middle of a street with a screaming ambulance on the way. 

For Sasha, it was under the cover of an awning, surrounded by medical beds overflowing with screaming patients. Bloodstained curtains hung down to give off some semblance of privacy, but they were sheer which barely blurred the gruesome scene behind them. 

"Keep pressure," Sasha said. 

His hands worked fast, meticulously trying to rescue the girl on the table. There were shards of glass the length of Sasha's hand buried into her chest, and he was trying to work the first one out without causing any excess damage. Luckily, the girl had mercifully passed out after getting some anesthesia, but somehow that didn't loosen the pressure pushing down on his shoulders. They weren't out of the woods until the largest piece of glass released its hold on the girl's heart. 

The first shard was pulled free, and Sasha rushed to cover the wound as blood gushed. It was the most shallow entry, but the poor girl had already lost enough. He quickly set to work stitching the wound, fingers working fast as his eyes bounced between his work and the heart monitor only two feet away from him.

With one shard out of the way, Sasha had the space he needed to focus on the more life-threatening wound which was lodged straight into the girl's chest. He took a deep breath; there was a reason another doctor had marked her as low survival during triage. The surgery was too difficult for a field dressing.

But Sasha wasn't giving up that easily.
Conrad
Asklepios wandered the streets seeking solitude and a bit of quiet to think. He walked with a slight stoop, puffing away at his old wooden pipe and mumbling to himself. He had always found the ritual of smoking to be a gateway to deeper understanding, whether about himself or the chaotic world around him. This particular evening, as the smoke curled into the cooling air, he stumbled upon a chaotic scene that disrupted his pondering: a makeshift medical battlefield carved out beneath an awning. Medical beds lined the area, filled with patients whose cries pierced the evening air, their suffering barely concealed by bloodstained curtains that fluttered like ghosts in the breeze. He stopped to assessing the scene, and a young man caught his eye. Asklepios watched the young man work, admiring his refusal to succumb to the situation. Moved by Sasha's determination under such dire circumstances, Asklepios inspired to help. Setting aside his pipe, he approached the makeshift operating table, his presence calm and assured. "Need another set of hands?" He offered, his voice carrying the weight of experience.

Working side by side, the two formed an immediate and efficient partnership. Asklepios's experienced hands provided the precise support Sasha needed. He adjusted the heart monitor to keep it within view, ensuring they would be immediately alerted to any distressing changes in the patient's condition. As Sasha focused on the deeper, more life-threatening shard of glass, Asklepios prepared the necessary sutures, his movements swift and practiced. As they worked, the street seemed to fall away, the cries dimmed, and for a moment, their small corner under the awning was the entire world—two healers bent over a life they refused to give up on. When the last stitch was secured and the girl's breathing stabilized, Asklepios exchanged a look of weary relief with the young lad. Seeing that he was relief, Asklepios smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, saying, "It's what we do, a small, knowing smile touching his lips as he picked up his pipe once again. He had set out for a walk to clear his mind, but fate had other plans, intertwining his path with Sasha's.
Jerri
Sasha was so focused on the task at hand that he didn't hear the old man approach until he was addressing him directly. Eyes snapping up to meet the stranger's, Sasha's brow only furrowed for a second before relenting. While he didn't know the man's expertise, he was almost one hundred percent sure that no one would offer to help such a complex surgery unless they had experience in the field themselves. 

Had he known in that moment he was talking to *The* Asklepios, he might have sounded less demanding when he spoke. 

"Any help is appreciated. Sanitize and grab some gloves." He nodded to the table where the stranger could wash up and retrieved all the tools he needed to dive right in. The nurse helped direct him as Sasha didn't want to lift his hands from his patient to point things out. 

Then they were both hard at work, hands moving quickly to remove the shard of glass and staunch the flow of blood. Sasha worked fast and efficiently, but with the stranger's help, everything went a lot smoother and his chest swelled with hope. The young woman had a much stronger chance with two experienced doctors hunching over her to keep her alive. 

Despite their quick work, minutes still managed to turn into an hour before they stabilized her. With the heart monitor still beeping in a steady, rhythmic beat, they were able to sew her up and wrap her in bandages without incident. Sasha breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped back, bloody hands dropping to his side as he took a moment to relax. 

A smile caressed his lips when the man spoke afterward. "Heh. Yeah . . . And who do I have the honor of working with? I'm Doctor Baskov." He offered a bloody gloved hand to shake.
Conrad
The old man didn't say much. He watched with keen eyes as the young doctor worked, his hands steady as he removed shards of glass from a patient and stemmed the flow of blood. When the doctor spoke, requesting assistance, the stranger complied with a nod, his movements slow but sure. He washed his hands with the practiced ease of one familiar with the rituals of surgery, donned gloves, and joined the doctor at the operating table. As they worked side by side, the old man's guidance was subtle. His hands moved with a grace that belied his age, his motions weaving seamlessly with the young doctor's efforts. Together, they stabilized the patient. Once the immediate danger had passed and the patient was secured with bandages, the old man stepped back, observing the young doctor's relief. His gaze was warm, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken knowledge. 

"Just a wanderer of sorts, Dr. Baskov," He replied. He discarded his gloves, his gaze never wavering from the young doctor's. "You handled yourself well. It's not every day you see such skill." When he saw that the man was not satisfied with his answer, he added, "Let's just say I like to be where I'm needed," He said. "Sometimes, a little help from an unexpected source can make all the difference, wouldn't you agree?" With a knowing look, the old man took his old wooden pipe back out and lit it with a match, puffing away contentedly. The chaos around them didn't seem to bother him. It was all a matter of perspective born from time. After blowing a smoke ring into the air, he said, "Tell me, Dr. Baskov, what got you into medicine in the first place? You seem awfully young to be a surgeon. Do you come from a family of doctors? Oh, forgive me, I haven't given you my name yet, have I? You may call me Lepos." He took another puff, a mischievous little smile playing on his lips.

||
Linda
Working together with the stranger, Sasha noticed how practiced his movements were, how he seemed to know things that only actual surgeons knew. He was too skilled with his hands to be some random passer-by. Sasha wondered if it was really a coincidence that he showed up that day, or if he was just being humble. It didn't matter either way to him; he was just happy that the patient was saved. 

"Heh. Right," He said in response to the man's explanation. Wanderer was putting it lightly. He was an angel. "You weren't so bad yourself." It was a humble version of a bigger compliment. The stranger was *Amazing.*

Sasha removed his gloves and washed his hands, a smile still on his face. His mood improved substantially since they were able to save the one patient everyone thought wouldn't be able to be saved. He finally got a good look at the stranger since he was no longer so focused on his patient. He wasn't sure why, but the older man seemed familiar somehow, though Sasha couldn't figure out where he might have seen him before. 

"Yeah . . . I'm very grateful for your help. I'm not sure I could have saved her on my own." It's something he didn't like to admit, but the whole incident had been very humbling. 

He finished cleaning himself up and then turned to face Lepos - what a strange name - to give him his full attention. "My father inspired me to go into medicine," He said, referring of course to his adopted father rather than the *Other* One. "He was a surgeon." He paused, realizing he might be revealing too much about himself if he talked about his age. "I'm a lot older than I look, though. Just have a baby face." 

He offered his hand to shake now that it was clean. "It's nice to meet you, Lepos."
Conrad
"Mmmhmm? Oh, yes, yes, I have my moments, indeed, though they seem to come fewer and farther between than they did when I was younger," He said wistfully, puffing away. "Don't sell yourself short—I'm sure you would've been just fine without some old man bumbling into your surgery and getting in the way." He smiled and then reached into his pocket to take out a golden watch, the old-fashioned kind you have to wind up by hand. It dangled from a gold chain with intricate designs carved into the soft metal. Checking the time, he muttered to himself, shook it, winded it up a few times and then puffed contentedly. 

"Your father, you say? Mm. And just who is your father, if you don't mind me asking? As for the baby face, yes, I see that, though I am far too gentlemanly to ask your age. I will take your word for it, my lad." Asklepios took another puff and looked out over the horizon absent-mindedly, as though he had forgotten he was right in the middle of an interaction. Things almost got awkward, but then he noticed the extended hand and gave it an earnest shake. "Well met, Doctor Baskov. Always nice to meet another good fellow with an interest in medicine. Important stuff, this medical profession of yours. Can't have enough doctors on speed dial these days, no, mmmm... Especially at my age."

Asklepios suddenly reached into his pocket and took out a small, white card. It was blank, save for a string of digits printed on the center of it. "I'm absolutely certain I have something I must attend to, somewhere, around this time," He paused, brows furrowing, "But take this. If you ever need help, or just some advice from an old fool who has lived too long and smokes too much, this is how to find me." He handed Sasha the card and checked his watch again, muttering to himself about seedlings or morphine or the concentration of noxious gas on Saturn—it was hard to say really—before he gave Sasha a friendly pat on the shoulder and then meandered down the road, leaving behind only a trail of rich oaken smoke.
Linda
"Well you had more than just a moment here. You helped me save this woman's life and that deserves all the praise in the world." Lepos's humble attitude reminded Sasha of his father - his adopted father, anyway. The way he had very obvious skill but didn't act cocky about it. The way he seemed to do it all so effortlessly whereas Sasha had been struggling on his own. "Heh. If you call *That* Getting in the way, then you can get in my way anytime." 

When it became clear that Lepos wasn't paying attention well enough to notice his offered hand, Sasha nearly let his arm drop back to his side. Just in time, though, Lepos caught on and they were formally introduced. 

Smiling, Sasha finally pulled back. "His name was Terrence Baskov. He was a well-renowned surgeon at NewYork-Presbyterian Brooklyn Methodist Hospital. It was a long time ago, though." Remembering his parents used to bring him to tears more often than not. Now he spoke of them with pride, and his smile only grew when he shared their memory with others. He missed them so much, but the pain had long settled. 

 "Heh! I wouldn't find it rude if you did," Sasha said, but still didn't divulge his age since he wasn't asked. "Honestly, I wish there were more out there, especially with all that's going on. It feels like we're shorthanded more often than not."

Accepting the card when it was handed to him, Sasha looked over it with a confused brow. He expected a full name and a picture along with contact information, but all he got was a number. Somewhat of a surprise given the man's skill; he assumed a doctor of his caliber would have fancy business cards to hand out as needed. 

"Thank you," He said, maintaining his smile throughout the whole interaction. It was hard to get his mood down when they had done something so good together. "I will take you up on that." There was still something so familiar about the old man, but he couldn't place it and it was bothering him. "It was nice to meet you, Lepos." 

Even as he said it, the old man was already wandering off and mumbling to himself. Sasha wasn't even sure he was heard. Shaking his head, he turned back to his work, moving on to the next patient that was in need of his services.