A voice, soft and dry as old pages, spoke from the shadows. "Took you long enough, Vargas."
Her legs moved before her mind consented. The corridors of St. Jude’s Mercy were a quiet blue, the vinyl floors squeaking under her scuffed Danskos. The air grew colder, metallic, as she descended. At the vault door, the red light above the key slot was, impossibly, green. Searching for- grey anatomy in-
The man on the table opened his eyes. They were grey too, and printed on their irises, in tiny serif font, were the words Figure 1 , Figure 2 , Figure 3 . A voice, soft and dry as old pages, spoke from the shadows