Owen stretched his arms high in the air.
Sunday, despite being a weekend where he stayed home, was busy and full of activity. His muscles were aching in a good way. Somehow. Coming into work on a Monday, he was in a bit of a buzz. He warmed up fast and worked without complaint.
"You look fresh, Owen," Boss Mike noted. "Alright, boys, we won't be doing the usual stuff this morning. No complaining. Three of the guys on the other section got injured so it's up to us to pick up the slack, kapeesh?"
Owen and the seven men that worked under Mike were in a circle. Technically, their team was supposed to operate the cranes and machinery. Owen was the sole exception to that and rarely ever did as his original position detailed due to his youth and handy hands. There wasn't a tool in the box he couldn't use with maximum efficiency.
"Yes, sir." Thus, Owen and the others had no choice but to comply with Mike's order.
Their task involved relocating a set of heavy steel beams that had been delivered earlier in the day. The beams were stacked near the edge of the construction area, partially obstructing the path of the machinery.
A seasoned figure with a hard hat and clipboard in hand, Mike gestured toward the beams. "We need to clear this area for the crane to move freely. Owen, grab the lifting straps, and let's get these beams shifted."
Owen headed to the tool storage area, a temporary station with a variety of equipment neatly arranged. He quickly retrieved the necessary lifting straps, each designed to handle the substantial weight of the steel beams.
The seven men under Mike's supervision formed a makeshift assembly line, passing the straps to Owen, who expertly secured them around the beams. Owen and his colleagues worked in unison to hoist and carefully relocate the steel beams to their designated position.
That was when the cranes hummed to life.
"Who is operating the crane?" Owen asked.
"The other section—Walker, I believe," Boss Mike replied. "He's an idiot but he used to work cranes."
"Didn't you call him a liar?"
Owen's inquiry got a low chuckle out of Mike. "He probably didn't lie about having a crane licence, Owen—"
Suddenly, a jarring noise interrupted their conversation. The crane, initially hovering over the construction site, dropped abruptly, causing everyone on the ground to turn and look in astonishment. The steel beam was carefully dropped and Mike slowly approached the crane.
Owen remained still, however. He glanced between Mike and the fallen crane. "Uhhh…boss?"
As if possessed, the crane started moving horizontally, its metal arm swung right over the team. The team's shouts of "Get down!" and "Look out!" mixed with the panicked beeping of the crane's warning signals.
Physics reminded itself of its steep existence and the crane came swinging back. Most of the team was down, save Mike. With a quick glance, Owen noticed Mike had turned to gesture and yell at the crane operator—failing to notice the hook flying right at him.
Without a second thought, Owen sprinted towards Mike, pulling him out of harm's way just in the nick of time. They stayed on the ground, waiting for the crane to calm down.
The construction site fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the fading yells. Owen and Mike exchanged a glance, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
"Owen, you…" Boss Mike stared at him. "Your shoulder. It's bleeding."
"Huh?" Just in the nick of time was ironic. It seemed that the hook had nicked his shoulder, tearing through flesh and clothing like paper. "Oh."
That was how he ended up in the hospital on a Monday. Big whoop.
***
Alone in the sterile hospital room, Owen sighed, his gaze drifting idly across the bland white walls. His injury, though undoubtedly painful, didn't seem to be at the forefront of his thoughts. All he cared about was his paycheck, which he may or may not receive. Mike was super vague about it.
Patiently waiting, he glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until his meeting with…
'Dr. Belle? That was the name the receptionist mentioned, I think.'
The hospital was busy and normally it would have taken half an hour for him to get to someone. Seriously, it was huge, the room alone being larger than his own room and the hallways so wide that eight or seven people could fit shoulder-to-shoulder. Luckily, since it was a work accident and the hospital director and his construction company's Big Boss were one in the same, employees were given the benefit of precedent.
So Owen sat on a hospital bed, waiting.
The door creaked open, revealing a striking figure with long, dark brown hair and a beauty mark beneath her eye. She wore the classic doctor lab coat and stepped in with her hands in her coat and an air of confidence.
She didn't say a word. She took a seat and busied herself with a tablet. No smile, no frown, a set line that said nothing. She looked bored.
Talk about awkward. He waited a full minute. Nothing.
"Hi," Owen greeted.
Her dark eyes flicked up and assessed Owen and his shoulder with a clinical detachment. "Shoulder injury: rate it from one to ten."
"I have a terrible sense of pain, truth be told, so like…a five?"
"Can you take off your shirt?"
Heat crept through his body. She was way too blunt for a doctor. Owen smiled anyway. "Sure."
The green vest was already off when he left the construction site. All that remained was his blue plaid shirt. He unbuttoned it and slid it off.
The doctor's dull gaze went from her tablet, then to his shoulder and stopped. She slowly blinked. That was the first sign of life he got from her besides her voice.
"Oh, these?" Down the shoulder where he was injured was a full sleeve of tattoos.
The centerpiece was a black phoenix, its scales intricately shaded and its eyes ablaze with an otherworldly intensity. The phoenix's tail snaked its way down Owen's forearm, curling around a field of red roses in full bloom. Frankly, there was a lot to take in. He couldn't blame her for pausing to look.
"Must have been a long process," Dr. Belle said, dark eyes suddenly on him. The tablet was gone, her full concentration on Owen and Owen alone. The phoenix and roses were but one part of the tattoo sleeve.
"I had a talented tattoo artist. I pieced it together bit by bit, spending the whole year just getting flashes of inspiration and adding stuff."
Her gaze shifted from his face to his chest and everywhere else. He sensed mild interest. "You work out." Her tone of voice was as if it was a note to write down.
Owen really couldn't get a read on her. Still, he wore a smile and tried to talk to her whole-heartedly. "I'm a construction worker," he clarified. "It's with the job."
She stood up unprompted and he half-expected her to do something out of the ordinary. However, she actually started doing her job and examined his wound. It was admittedly pretty gory and he was impressed that she looked at it with such absent-minded focus. He had been tended by plenty of doctors and none were as unfazed as Dr. Belle was.
"How did you get injured again?" Dr. Belle asked.
"Crane."
"Interesting."
The only thought in Owen's mind was, 'Why does her breath smell like weed?'
*****
Main Character: Owen Hart (Username: Aloof_Heart)
Strength: 10/10
Dexterity: 10/10
Constitution: 10/10
Intelligence: 8/10
Wisdom: 9/10
Charisma: 8/10
Stubbornness: 11/10