//------------------------------// // Chapter Eight: Of Cutie Marks // Story: Trauma Center: Equestrian Opinion // by Legion222 //------------------------------// Trauma Center: Equestrian Opinion Chapter Eight: Of Cutie Marks Location: Ponyville Medical "-and ya've got ta touch all three bases an' make it back ta the start before somepony tags ya with the ball!" The little yellow filly reared up on her hind legs to show her excitement, but wound up overbalancing and falling flat on her back. "Ow." The filly's friends gave her strange looks. "That sounds dumb," the orange Pegasus filly responded from her perch in the hospital bed. "Scootaloo!" The white Unicorn filly standing on the other side of the bed scolded. "That was mean. Applebloom put a lot of work into that idea. I don't suppose you've got a better one?" "Err," Scootaloo rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, "what about a game where you make up the rules as you go?" At the Unicorn's blank stare, Scootaloo sighed in defeat. "Okay, okay. Sorry, Applebloom." The yellow Earth Pony picked herself up off the ground, "Ah, don't sweat it. It needs some work fer sure. What about you, Sweetie Belle? Ya got any ideas?" Direct smiled as he listened to the fillies' back-and-forth. The self-proclaimed 'Cutie Mark Crusaders' had shown up at the hospital about a half-hour earlier to see their friend. At first there had been many worried questions about what had happened and how she felt, but now the three girls were playing 'Cutie Mark Crusaders Sport Inventors YAY!' They'd nearly broken his eardrums with that shout, but it was nice to see his young patient recovering so well after what she’d faced; though the way she occasionally winced and clutched her chest was an unfortunate reminder that she wasn’t completely back to normal. Off in the corner of the small, private room sat an orange Earth Pony mare wearing a Stetson. She'd come with the two fillies and stayed to supervise them while they visited. The hat was pulled over her eyes, and at first glance she seemed to be asleep, but Direct had noticed her ears twitching and swiveling about, and realized she was keeping a silent watch. Against what, however, he wasn't sure. It's just a hospital. Not like anything odd goes on here. With that thought, however, he turned back to the paperwork he was working on. Then again... After the previous night's 'next to no medical staff on call' incident, the Guard had had everypony involved fill out a report. Or so he'd been told. He had still been asleep when everypony else had done theirs, and now that he was up it was his turn. Nurse Temperament trotted in as he completed a list of the ponies he knew had been in the building that night. She smiled at the fillies, who were now debating the fairness of wings and magic in sports, before turning to Direct. "Almost done?" she smiled somewhat awkwardly. After what had happened last night they'd both become more open and friendly with each other, but they were still testing the waters on just how much. "Just finished," he said, standing up and stretching out. "You know where that Guard Lieutenant is? I should get this to him before he blows another gasket." The officer had not reacted well when he'd been told one of the reports would have to wait. "He's in the break room, 'interviewing' everypony he can get his hooves on," she replied with a hint of sarcasm. Direct could imagine that his idea of an interview was more along the lines of interrogation. "Speaking of, I happened to overhear an interesting rumor or two. You know the Director's secretary?" "Oh, yeah, Mrs., uh, What's-her-name?" He grinned a bit stupidly. "Heh, now that I think about it I never did catch her name." Angel leaned a bit closer, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "That's just the thing. Apparently everypony is just now realizing that they have no idea who she was. What's more, apparently the Director found a letter of resignation on her desk this morning. She just up and quit; emptied her desk and everything, not a trace left behind. And that's not even mentioning that the whole building's been crawling with Guardsponies since last night, and nopony's seen hide or hair of her." Direct was a bit stunned at the news, but slowly began to nod. "You think maybe she had something to do with last night? The call schedule goes right through her hooves before it gets sent out." "That's the general consensus, yeah, but what nopony can figure out is why. Nopony really knew her well enough to think of any reason she might have done it." Angel shook her head. "But this is all just rumor and hearsay anyway. I guess we're all just freaked out that something like that could happen without us noticing until it was too late." Direct shivered involuntarily. It was definitely a scary thought. "Anyway, I'd better get these to Lieutenant Hardflank. Keep an eye on them for me?" He gestured to the conspiring fillies. Angel giggle-snorted at the nickname, and gave him an amused nod. "Sure, how hard could-" she was cut off by a loud bang coming from the bedside table, which had somehow been overturned in the few seconds that neither of them had been looking. Two fillies stood and one lay nearby with identical looks of angelic innocence. "-it be." she finished lamely as a Guardspony, drawn by the noise, burst into the room. "What was that noise?" the guard demanded, looking every which way for trouble. "Relax, Sugarcube," the orange mare called from her place in the corner, shifting in her chair but never looking up. "They're just fillies bein' fillies." The guard calmed down on seeing the overturned table, nodding in acceptance. "Okay, then, uh, as you were," he saluted lamely, turning to leave. Seeing an opportunity to not let the troublesome fillies out of his sight, Direct seized it, passing his report to the guard and asking him to take it straight to the Lieutenant. "We'd hate to keep him waiting, after all, wouldn't we?" He grinned a bit evilly as the guard rushed out the door as if Cerberus himself were on his tail. His grin lasted until Angel lightly wing-slapped him on the back of the head. "That was mean," she said, barely containing a grin of her own. Direct bit back his retort as he heard the orange mare's voice from right beside him, jumping slightly as he turned his attention to her. "If ya'll are done chattin', I was hopin' I could talk to ya'll about Scootaloo." Nurse Temperament, a bit surprised as well, quickly composed herself. "Of course, what did you want to know, Miss..?" she prompted, realizing she didn't know the mare's name. "Applejack," the mare tilted her Stetson up at last, giving them a view of her green eyes. "I just need ta know how long until she's all ready ta go home is all." "Well," Doctor Styles answered, dropping his voice so the fillies couldn't overhear, "we can't really gauge that until we're able to perform a second operation. Her wing muscles still need to be reattached, and the only specialist we have who could do that is in the Brayhamas right now. And before that, we still need to meet with her parents first to get their permission to even perform that operation," he finished with a look at Nurse Temperament, who nodded to confirm he'd covered everything. "Well, shoot," Applejack said carefully, "that's kinda where things get complicated. Is there someplace else we could talk about this? I hate ta bring this up in front of Scootaloo. Celestia knows she gets enough of a reminder every day..." Nurse Temperament, looking both confused and worried, gestured to the door. The three of them started to leave the room, before Applejack stopped them. With a worried glance over her shoulder at the trio of fillies, she asked, "Uh, could one of ya stay here with them? They're good kids, but they have this habit of gettin' in trouble when nopony's watchin'." "I'll stay," Doctor Styles volunteered. "Nurse Temperament knows the specifics better than I do anyway." Nodding in thanks, Applejack allowed herself to be led out of the room. "Just make sure they stay outta trouble, as much as ya can, anyway," she added with a smirk. As the door closed behind the two mares, Direct turned to face the fillies, who he now noticed had gone silent. The three sat frozen in place, staring at him with wide, excited eyes. "Uh... Hi?" he tried. In a blink the two not confined to a bed were upon him. "What's yer Cutie Mark mean, Mr. Doctor? It's a star, so are ya really good at that astro-nima stuff?" Applebloom questioned, studying his Mark. "It's Astronomy, Applebloom." corrected Sweetie Belle exasperatedly. "And besides that, it's not a star, it's a pentagram." "Now I know you're just making things up," interjected Scootaloo from her place on the bed, pointing an accusing hoof at her friend. "That's totally a star. Remember when Miss Cheerilee had us draw a whole bunch of them?" The fillies' bickering faded out as Direct pondered the question. He'd never known just what his Mark was supposed to mean, but after what had happened... He stood staring at the rapidly spasming heart, watching in seeming slow-motion as it tore itself in half along his incision. He felt hopeless and lost. After all of that work, he couldn't save her. He'd promised, but he'd failed. Did he even deserve to be called a doctor if he couldn't help anypony? I won't let you die! The words flashed through his mind. The voice that spoke them was firm and confident, as though it was stating fact, not merely opinion. The voice spoke of trials and experience, of joys and hardships. And it sounded a lot like his own. The words burned within him, filling him with warm determination. He acted without hesitation, with no need for thought. His horn ignited, snatching up the suturing needle, but he didn't notice. All of his attention was focused solely on the heart before him, ever-so-slowly tearing itself apart. He knew he should be worried, panicked even, but he was not. He felt nothing but calm as he watched a light blue pentagram trace itself over his field of vision. The completed pentagram flashed, and he moved into action, suturing the incision closed as quickly as he dared. The pentagram shape faded away and the world around him rushed back in, deafening exclamations from the ponies around the room cut off all at once as he nearly blacked out... "...and summon the legendary demon Colthulu!" Scootaloo proclaimed, throwing her hooves into the air. Direct stood in stunned silence as the orange filly finished what had obviously been a long-winded explanation, and he wasn’t the only one. Both of her friends stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “I think yah’ve read too many comic books, Scootaloo,” Applebloom finally replied, shaking her head. “No way!” Scootaloo huffed indignantly. “If he’s not a Tartaric cultist, then why isn’t he saying anything?” She cast a glare at the doctor. “It’s cuz he knows I’m right!” Well this conversation took an interesting turn, Direct mused, shaking his mind clear. “I’m not a cultist,” he said with what he hoped was a good-natured laugh. “Exactly what I’d expect a cultist to say!” Scootaloo shouted, jabbing an accusing hoof at him. She opened her mouth to say more, but a white hoof shoved itself into the open hole, silencing her. “I’m sorry about her,” Sweetie Belle apologized. “She can get a little… excited.” Scootaloo shot her a dirty look over the hoof that still covered her mouth, crossing her own hooves over her chest in anger at being cut off. Direct nodded with a bemused smile; those fillies might have been a bit crazy, but they were good kids in the end. Still, he had no clue how they’d gotten around to calling him a cultist. “So,” he tried, remembering that he had to keep them busy so they couldn’t get in trouble, “you’re trying to get your Cutie Marks?” The fillies nodded. “We’re the last ponies in our class not ta have ‘em,” Applebloom supplied. “Everypony keeps tellin’ us we’ll get ‘em when we get ‘em, but we still don’t have ‘em yet.” Her friends nodded in agreement; they were all anxious to find out what their special talents were. “Last ponies in your class, huh?” Doctor Styles mused, some not-so-pleasant memories of his own surfacing. “I was the last pony in my class to get my Mark, too.” The fillies stared at him, wide-eyed. Here was somepony who knew their plight first-hand; maybe he could finally teach them the secret to getting their Cutie Marks! “You’re all still in Primary School, right?” the doctor asked, thinking. Receiving three nods, he continued: “I was a Blank Flank until my first year of Secondary School.” Three jaws dropped in unison: the Cutie Mark Crusaders hadn’t known it was possible to get that old without finding your special talent! “So what happened?” questioned Scootaloo. “How’d you get your Cutie Mark?” Direct smiled as he sat down on the floor by her bed; who’d have thought that keeping three fillies out of trouble would be as simple as telling a story? “Well, it all started out as a pretty normal day…” Direct Styles walked down the hallway of his school in Canterlot, his muzzle buried in an old book. He let his hooves carry him around the campus, paying no mind to anything beyond the words on the page in front of him. Unlike physical foci, shape foci are most effective at focusing oneself and one’s power, allowing the caster to perform complicated spells with much greater ease. Examples of shape foci include circles, pentagrams, and ancient Roanan writing (expanded list on page 394). He kept walking as he read, his mind absorbed in the topic of magical foci. He’d found the old book in the back of the school library – not even the librarian had known anything about it, though she’d gone ahead and checked it out to him. Entitled “Assisted Magic - a Complete Reference,” the book detailed the different forms of magical aids and their applications. It was a fascinating topic, especially to him – since he still hadn’t found his special talent, he figured he should just study as much about magic as he could, and see if there was any area in particular he excelled at. As might be expected, his complete focus on the book left him unaware of his surroundings, right up until he ran straight into a large, furry red mass. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Blank Flank,” the bigger pony chuckled meanly. “Ready for your daily pounding?” A heavy Earth Pony hoof stomped the ground menacingly at the last word. “Hello, Brick Breaker,” Direct sighed in defeat, looking around and finding himself in a secluded corner of the campus, away from the main part of the school, and potential help. He should have been watching where he was going, but then again he knew he couldn’t avoid the bully forever. The daily beatings had been a sort of tradition for the last few years, and he knew that if the bully didn’t get it out of his system now he’d get much worse later. It was around twenty minutes later when a bruised and battered Direct picked himself up off the ground, wincing when he put pressure on his back right leg. He retrieved and straightened his newly-bent glasses, and began to limp his way back to the main part of campus, his tormentor having left for class long ago. No doubt he’d get chewed out by Mrs. Denominator for being late again, and he would nod and return to his day; it wasn’t like anypony had ever believed him when he’d told them the truth. Brick Breaker was a shoe-in for the hoofball team once tryouts started, and, famous parents aside, Direct was just another nopony student. Worse than that, he grimaced with a glance at his flank, he was the nopony student. Thoughts like these plagued his mind as he returned to the school’s main building. Both teachers and his fellow students had largely overlooked him for the past few years, and those who did notice him were in the same vein as Brick; they did so only to harass him over his lack of Cutie Mark. He rounded a corner and pushed open the door leading to the large courtyard in the middle of the campus. His class was right on the other side, so he opted to cut through rather than go around. The cool fall air stung at his recent wounds and a bright yellow leaf fell from one of the trees planted around the yard and smacked him in the face. As he wiped the leaf from his face, a yell shattered the quiet. “AAAAAHHH!” A grey blur came crashing through the trees, breaking through a number of large branches before impacting the ground with an almighty THUD. Direct stood stunned for a few moments as he tried to process what had just occurred. A blonde-maned, grey-coated Pegasus mare lay unmoving on the ground not far from him, surrounded by the branches she had broken on her way down. She looked to be a few years older than he was, and worked for the post office if the uniform she was wearing and the mailbag lying next to her were any indication. Hesitantly he took a few steps closer, and flinched when he saw that some of the branches carried a dark red sheen. Direct’s breath caught when he saw the pool of red liquid slowly spreading away from the Pegasus. She was bleeding, and pretty badly at that. She needs help. That much was plainly obvious, but there was nopony around. Everyone else would be in their classes right now, and the school nurse was on the other side of the building! There was no help. I’m here. I can help. Direct’s brow creased. Where in Equestria had that thought come from? He didn’t know the first thing about treating injuries, and it certainly wasn’t like him to offer help like that. After all, everypony else just wanted to hurt him; why should he help them? Because I can. He’d briefly entertained the thought that these strange thoughts were coming from something else – maybe a ghost had taken up residence in his skull – but there was no mistaking it. The “voice” that spoke in his mind was his own, but stronger. It was a successful, confident, and kinder Direct Styles, calling him to action. Just as soon as he recognized the voice, he realized it was right. In his fervent study of all things magic, he’d studied a good bit about medical magic a month or so ago. He tried to remember something that could help him, but at first nothing came to mind. Suddenly, a blue, five-pointed shape straight out of his book appeared in his vision, and the information flooded in. First aid for deep lacerations: He recalled the chapter heading from “Medical Methods: Mundane and Magical” with a strange ease. The proper treatment came to mind almost of its own accord, and he quickly got to work. A flare of red light shot into the air and hovered just above him as he tore the mare’s already-ruined uniform into strips and magically pressed them into the largest wounds to slow the blood loss. It felt like forever before a Pegasus-pulled chariot landed in the courtyard, Emergency Technicians hopping out and coming to his aid. With no materials available to clean the wounds he’d been stuck at the ‘apply pressure’ stage, but the arrivals quickly saw to fixing that before applying clean bandages. Direct spoke to one of the Pegasi as her fellows got their new patient set up. He explained what had happened as well as he could – omitting the part about the voice in his head – and she thanked him for helping before she took off with the others back towards the hospital. It wasn’t until he finished washing the blood off his hooves and coat that he noticed a new, five-pointed addition to his flank. Three wide-eyed fillies stared unblinkingly at him as he told his tale, skimming over the details of his bullying and the voice in his head. They gasped in fear when he spoke of the injured pony, and burst into cheers as help arrived. At last, ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ accompanied his description of his brand-new Cutie Mark. The three girls chatted appreciatively about his story while he stood and stretched. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting but his back hooves had fallen asleep. When the feeling finally returned to his legs, he noticed that the Unicorn filly was staring at him again. “Uhh, yes? What is it?” She seemed a bit surprised at being called out, but finally got her nerve. “Well, you see, I was just wondering… You told us how you got your Cutie Mark, but you never said what it means.” Direct frowned at that; he still had no idea himself. Taking a moment to think over the question, Direct came to a conclusion that, he supposed, at least made sense, even if it wasn’t the real answer. Smiling, he replied: “It means I’m really good at focusing.”