Flea

Recovery Girl ducked into the room overlooking the operating theatre. It was empty as promised, so she quickly grabbed a can of sterilising solution and sprayed herself, body suit and all, down. Hopefully it wasn't the kind that irritated her scars. Maeve opened various compartments in the body suit, replacing the full puke pint with one she'd grabbed from her office. She pulled a hair net out and pulled it around her bun, which had been disintegrating in quality.

Only then did the grey-haired girl realise her hands were shaking. Interesting. Maeve didn't have time to analyse whether it was due to stress or her body being pushed past its limits. It didn't matter. She strode out without hesitation, gave the group of nurses a wide smile, and entered the chaotic operating theatre. Maeve's gloves receded to expose her hands and her visor replicated over her field of vision, instantly giving her a deluge of flashing information.

"It's just me and you, buddy," she whispered to the man struggling for life on the table.