<strong>Moussad ~ with Boneman</strong><br/><br/>Moussad had the doc by the lapels of his white coat. Goody was trying to put the clipboard between his vitals and Moussad’s knee. A learned behavior and possibly one learned while in the presence of Moussad recently.<br/><br/>“Don’t hurt me!”<br/><br/>“We are not to mug you. You fix broke bitches now!”  Moussad said forcefully.<br/><br/>Doctor Goody glanced over his shoulder to the on coming mountain and the two women in Vern‘s care. It was clear the two slave had been tortured and were in need of decent fixing. Although he had failed the boards three times, he did pass and was accredited. He was a doctor and he had come here to practice without fear of litigation.<br/><br/>It was a relief to know these two trainers weren’t out for a shake down for pocket change to put into the beverage machines in the trainers lounge.<br/><br/>“Right, medical then,” He pointed to the small room with the sign that read storage closet.<br/><br/>Moussad released the man. The doctor dropped like a rock, and was shorter by two inches when he felt solid ground under his feet. Goody turned on his heels and stepped briskly to the door. He left the door open as he stepped inside.<br/><br/>It was a 8 by 10. An exam table along one wall with restraints. One exam light. Over head fluorescents that blinked like a neon sign at a diner. A counter. Cabinets. A tray on rollers. A cart.<br/><br/>The cart had a box of latex gloves, K Y jelly, and instruments meant to open, prick, pinch, puncture and sew someone up or not.<br/><br/>Goody ripped the bloody portion of white paper covering the exam table. What waited for the next patient was white paper that had a remarkable resemblance to meat wrap with the same texture and crumply sound.<br/><br/>Goody gave the exam table a pat.<br/><br/>“Here.”<br/><br/>