I've always wanted to help others. It was ingrained in me from a young age- you should always do what you can and what is right, even if it's harder for you. My parents were the most generous, loving people I've ever known, and I told myself to always strive to meet their example.
I got my start in emergency medicine. You know, the things you see and do in the ER... they weigh on you. Having people die in your arms. Seeing victims of abuse and trauma, horrifically mangled injuries from accidents. It begins to be too much. So I moved to pediatric care. Let me tell you, when a child is sick, you cannot reason with parents. The last straw was a parent that refused to get their child the medical care they needed because of religious reasons. That child died. He was in my care, and I couldn't save him.
I left. Using my experience, I managed to earn a scholarship to a veterinary school. I enjoyed the work, don't get me wrong, but the parents of animals are about as bad as the parents of children. The work was challenging... it's harder to diagnose a patient when they can't talk to tell you what hurts. I found a niche and I worked well within it. Until... well. Sometimes you get a case that defies explanation. I did what I could to save my patient, even though I had no idea what it was. In the process, I started taking notes. The differences in anatomy, the reaction to anesthetics. Anything that might help me with its care, in figuring out what species it was.
Late that night, the sound of breaking glass woke me from the couch in my office. I crept down the hall and realized that someone was after my patient. I fought as hard as I could, with everything I had in me. It wasn't enough. I blacked out, woke up in some secret facility in Louisiana. Somehow that morphed into a job offer I couldn't refuse.
I now run the ICR, the Inhuman Creature Repository. We capture and catologue the creatures that walk among us, those that mean to do us harm. Containment and education are our primary goals... these things can do things no one else can do. They can kill us in ways we never thought existed. One IC at a time, we're finally fighting back.
I got my start in emergency medicine. You know, the things you see and do in the ER... they weigh on you. Having people die in your arms. Seeing victims of abuse and trauma, horrifically mangled injuries from accidents. It begins to be too much. So I moved to pediatric care. Let me tell you, when a child is sick, you cannot reason with parents. The last straw was a parent that refused to get their child the medical care they needed because of religious reasons. That child died. He was in my care, and I couldn't save him.
I left. Using my experience, I managed to earn a scholarship to a veterinary school. I enjoyed the work, don't get me wrong, but the parents of animals are about as bad as the parents of children. The work was challenging... it's harder to diagnose a patient when they can't talk to tell you what hurts. I found a niche and I worked well within it. Until... well. Sometimes you get a case that defies explanation. I did what I could to save my patient, even though I had no idea what it was. In the process, I started taking notes. The differences in anatomy, the reaction to anesthetics. Anything that might help me with its care, in figuring out what species it was.
Late that night, the sound of breaking glass woke me from the couch in my office. I crept down the hall and realized that someone was after my patient. I fought as hard as I could, with everything I had in me. It wasn't enough. I blacked out, woke up in some secret facility in Louisiana. Somehow that morphed into a job offer I couldn't refuse.
I now run the ICR, the Inhuman Creature Repository. We capture and catologue the creatures that walk among us, those that mean to do us harm. Containment and education are our primary goals... these things can do things no one else can do. They can kill us in ways we never thought existed. One IC at a time, we're finally fighting back.