<div class="floatleft">(http://static.desktopnexus.com/thumbnails/609779-bigthumbnail.jpg)</div><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Name:</strong> Natasha Evans<br/><strong>Title:</strong> <del>Snow Angel</del> None yet<br/><strong>Affiliation:</strong> Neutral<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Los Angeles, Art Museum at the corner of Wilshire Blvd and Fairfax Ave<br/><strong>Tags:</strong> Teletrix, Wreck<br/><br/></span></span><hr/><br/>Natasha gulped, and thought,<em>Give up my gun? What the hell does this guy think? That I'm an idiot? That gun is the only way I can defend myself! For all I know this is a trap and there is a bunch of rapists waiting for me.</em><br/><br/>Somewhat hesitant, she said, “I don't mind you checking my backpack, but I have no reason to trust any of you all and I'm the one outnumbered here. I promise I'll keep my gun holstered and won't make any sudden moves, but that gun stays on my side.”<br/><br/>Natasha took off her backpack and threw it to Aaron, who checked its contents. Without her conscious awareness, she also sent soothing feelings in the direction of Aaron and Marcus, her unconsciousness hoping to put their minds at ease.<br/><br/>“It's just as she said, Marcus. There is only some provision and various medical supplies inside. Some of this stuff looks pretty specialized, definitely not the kind of gear that somebody would carry around if she only knew how to apply first aid,” Aaron stated.<br/><br/>“Now do you believe me?” Natasha asked, before she said to Aaron, “Please show me your wounded. I sensed a great deal of distress coming from here and one woman in particular felt like she's in a world of pain.”<br/><br/>“Follow me,” Aaron replied, giving her the backpack back.<br/><br/>What Natasha saw when she entered the building, stunned her mind. Various refugees were hiding, huddled up together and looking in pretty bad shape. Several of them had sustained wounds and were patched up in an amateurish way. The person who had applied the bandages had done the best she could with the resources available, but it quickly became clear to Natasha that she'd run out of her supplies very fast.<br/><br/>“Aaron, please ask Marcus to send somebody out to scavenge for medical supplies. I can help the most critically wounded, but beyond that I won't be able to do much. I also need somebody else to boil linen, so I can apply sterile bandages. It won't be as good as the real deal, but we'll have to make do with what we have available. For that matter, I also need alcohol to sterilize my equipment, and whatever else you can get your hands on.”<br/><br/>With her orders given, Natasha took a critical look at all of the refugees, assessing their needs. She felt that most were just shaken up, afraid about what was going on, and curious about her appearance. One woman in particular, however, seemed to be in a great deal of pain, she must be the one she had sensed earlier. Actually, upon closer consideration, she wasn't even a woman, but just a teenage girl.<br/><br/><em>Poor thing, what have they done to her?</em>Natasha wondered, as she walked up to the teenager.<br/><br/>“Hey there,” Natasha said with a soft voice, as she knelt next the girl, “I'm Natasha Evans, and I'm a doctor. I'd like to take a look at you, is that okay? I also need to know where you hurt, so I can see about taking care of your injuries.”