<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/HI95dalm.jpg)</div><strong>Wednesday, March 13th, 1946. Sometime just before midnight.</strong><br/><br/>The room is small, and seems to double as a storage closet. Institutional yellow paint. Metal cabinets, including a map cabinet that is surely out of place in a medical examination room. A locked case with a frosted glass front full of chemicals. A sturdy metal examination table in that takes up most of the centre of the room that someone has draped a military issue wool blanket over. There is a single wooden chair by the desk beside the door.<br/><br/>Wallace Berthold-Campbell has been waiting for about ten minutes when the door opens and a woman in a long white lab-coat enters. High heels. A black skirt under the lab-coat. No, a dress. Blonde hair pinned up, shes's wearing pearls and make-up. You'd almost assume the woman was at the opera before coming in. A stethoscope hangs around her neck and she holds a metal clipboard in her hands. You would estimate her age at mid-thirties, or a very young forty.<br/><br/>She smiles and speaks with a strong German accent.<br/><br/>"Good evening. I am Professor-Doktor Spreillung. Friederika Spreillung. I understand there was something of an accident tonight?"<br/><br/>There is no smile in the tone of her voice.<br/><br/>"We are going to give you a thorough exam. Please understand this is both for your health, and to help us understand what happened. If you have questions, ask them, but I do not expect to have to repeat my requests. Is that understood?<br/><br/>"There are green gowns in that drawer over there. Get undressed, put on the gown. The floor is cold, you may keep your socks on for now."