It was 4 o’clock in the evening and Isaak looked down at his watch swiftly as he pushed a patient to the operating room. He was supposed to be off in an hour but that wasn’t going to happen it seemed. Just as he was walking to the nurse’s room he was stopped by the head nurse and asked if he could stay and assist one of the doctors in a minor operation. Isaac had tried to reason with the lady, saying how he wasn’t qualified and that he was only a mere porter, but the merry woman wouldn’t hear a word. She said he was more qualified than some of the nurses and his patience and understanding personality was much appreciated by the patients as well as staff.
Knowing he couldn’t say no to people in need, Isaak agreed and here he was pushing an elderly man to have a minor cyst removed from his knee. The elderly man was telling him all about his daughters and how he would love to introduce one of them to Isaak. The latter could only smile and play along as he wheeled Mr. Gordon to Operating Room 6.
Once there he assisted the nurses in getting Mr. Gordon situated and comfortable. As he assisted Isaak took mental notes of everything to further his knowledge. He was pretty sure that once he joined a pack he would have to move and change jobs. Thinking about it, he wasn’t really sure what else he could do, or for that matter what else he wanted to do. In the past he had worked for blacksmiths, carpenters, merchants, fisheries, and he had also worked as an army medic when he was enlisted. The longest job he ever kept was working as a porter in a hospital.
Luckily though Isaak was smart enough to get a GED and get a college degree in psychology when he had the chance. He received his degree from Penn State back in the 1900s and also got minors in finance, economics, and communications. He also self-taught himself multiple languages including French, German, Russian, Spanish, Italian, some Chinese and Japanese.
Well he could go into secretary business, but he hated that kind of stuff. Interpreter, he could do that, but maybe for a part time or something…maybe he’ll just stick to the hospital. He didn’t mind the hours and all the staff loved him. He’d just transfer to another hospital closer to the pack if anything.
The two hour mini-surgery passed quickly with Isaak focused on assisting the doctor and nurses. Afterward they all praised his work, amazed at his skills and told him he was better than just a porter. He smiled and thanked them all and finally was off his shift for the day. Walking into the locker room he changed out of his scrubs, pulling on his jeans with ripped knees, slipped on the black belt, dons his brown leather duster over his grey wife-beater and then grabbing his backpack, left the hospital to his Harley.
It was 6:30pm by the time he pulled up to a bar. He walked in and asked for straight dark rum, paid for the two shots and then went off towards a small corner store to buy some supplies. Earlier he had gotten information about the location of the Venantium pack borders. He found out there were two packs in NY but after hearing stories figured Venantium suited him more. He also discovered that the borders were beneath the bridge and he knew many homeless made their ‘home’ there.
So he stocked up on some sandwiches and easy meals and then drove off towards the border, hoping he wasn’t making his visit too late. He parked his bike and then walked down to beneath the bridge. And sure enough many homeless people turned to see who was approaching. He saw homeless men, women, and even children. Pretty soon he was walking among them, handing them food and water and just giving them soft smiles as they thanked him for his kindness.
As he turned away from them to head closer to the border, he sniffed slightly and true enough the fresh markers of the border got stronger the closer he got. Now how was he supposed to attract the attention of a patroller if there were so many people around? He couldn’t very well shift and let it rip; he’d probably give the poor homeless heart attacks.
Bloody hell…what now?
Just then he saw a stray dog poking around the trash and got an idea. He whistled and the dog’s head shot up, ears perked as he looked straight at him. Isaak bent to his knees and held out a stick of beef jerky and the dog walked over to him, taking the morsel from his hand and crunching it up.
”Hey boy. Go across the border and get someone for me will ya? I’ll bet you know who to get,” he said to the dog and with a scratch behind the ears, sent the dog running off into the Venantium borders. He had always been a dog person, and hopefully he made the right decision by sending a messenger instead of announcing the existence of werewolves to the whole of New York.
Knowing he couldn’t say no to people in need, Isaak agreed and here he was pushing an elderly man to have a minor cyst removed from his knee. The elderly man was telling him all about his daughters and how he would love to introduce one of them to Isaak. The latter could only smile and play along as he wheeled Mr. Gordon to Operating Room 6.
Once there he assisted the nurses in getting Mr. Gordon situated and comfortable. As he assisted Isaak took mental notes of everything to further his knowledge. He was pretty sure that once he joined a pack he would have to move and change jobs. Thinking about it, he wasn’t really sure what else he could do, or for that matter what else he wanted to do. In the past he had worked for blacksmiths, carpenters, merchants, fisheries, and he had also worked as an army medic when he was enlisted. The longest job he ever kept was working as a porter in a hospital.
Luckily though Isaak was smart enough to get a GED and get a college degree in psychology when he had the chance. He received his degree from Penn State back in the 1900s and also got minors in finance, economics, and communications. He also self-taught himself multiple languages including French, German, Russian, Spanish, Italian, some Chinese and Japanese.
Well he could go into secretary business, but he hated that kind of stuff. Interpreter, he could do that, but maybe for a part time or something…maybe he’ll just stick to the hospital. He didn’t mind the hours and all the staff loved him. He’d just transfer to another hospital closer to the pack if anything.
The two hour mini-surgery passed quickly with Isaak focused on assisting the doctor and nurses. Afterward they all praised his work, amazed at his skills and told him he was better than just a porter. He smiled and thanked them all and finally was off his shift for the day. Walking into the locker room he changed out of his scrubs, pulling on his jeans with ripped knees, slipped on the black belt, dons his brown leather duster over his grey wife-beater and then grabbing his backpack, left the hospital to his Harley.
It was 6:30pm by the time he pulled up to a bar. He walked in and asked for straight dark rum, paid for the two shots and then went off towards a small corner store to buy some supplies. Earlier he had gotten information about the location of the Venantium pack borders. He found out there were two packs in NY but after hearing stories figured Venantium suited him more. He also discovered that the borders were beneath the bridge and he knew many homeless made their ‘home’ there.
So he stocked up on some sandwiches and easy meals and then drove off towards the border, hoping he wasn’t making his visit too late. He parked his bike and then walked down to beneath the bridge. And sure enough many homeless people turned to see who was approaching. He saw homeless men, women, and even children. Pretty soon he was walking among them, handing them food and water and just giving them soft smiles as they thanked him for his kindness.
As he turned away from them to head closer to the border, he sniffed slightly and true enough the fresh markers of the border got stronger the closer he got. Now how was he supposed to attract the attention of a patroller if there were so many people around? He couldn’t very well shift and let it rip; he’d probably give the poor homeless heart attacks.
Bloody hell…what now?
Just then he saw a stray dog poking around the trash and got an idea. He whistled and the dog’s head shot up, ears perked as he looked straight at him. Isaak bent to his knees and held out a stick of beef jerky and the dog walked over to him, taking the morsel from his hand and crunching it up.
”Hey boy. Go across the border and get someone for me will ya? I’ll bet you know who to get,” he said to the dog and with a scratch behind the ears, sent the dog running off into the Venantium borders. He had always been a dog person, and hopefully he made the right decision by sending a messenger instead of announcing the existence of werewolves to the whole of New York.