The white on the walls was a gift.
There were no distractions here. There were no flamboyant murals to draw attention, there was no sense of atmosphere to draw one away from their work. The white on the walls made it easy to focus, to completely immerse oneself in whatever delicate, fragile task that one may be doing at the time.
The white on the walls was a curse.
It makes sure to let you know where you are, and it makes sure to know you won't be leaving for a while. It seems to become more apparent when looking at the red blood of the various patients that were hauled in here. There was no excitement, nothing to look at. When ponies died here, they were not dying in a unique atmosphere, or a unique place; hundreds before them have perished here, and the white on the walls has seen them all.
Canterlot Hospital had seen everything, that much was for sure. Since the beginning of the city, history has waltzed into the waiting room with various ailments; the Cutie Pox outbreak during the first year of the sister's rule, the vicious shadow plague that infested the ponies from all over, and much, much more. The hospital had been improving for years on end, and now it was one of the tallest buildings in Equestria. Every floor hosted the same bland paint.
Occasionally, the white on the walls see something they haven't seen before. It doesn't happen much, but it happens; for example, no one was quite sure what to do when, for two months, every newborn was born a mare. That epidemic has yet to be solved, and still contributes to the ongoing gender ratio problem in Equestria. But that was an affliction; there was no pony ever really special that came through the halls of Canterlot Hospital. The patients, normal citizens of Equestria either lived or died; the surgeons either saved them or they did not. sure, there were good surgeons, but the very idea of a surgeon with a perfect record was unthinkable; it just couldn't be done.
Dr. Razor Sharp was the sole exception, and he knew it.
"Not One Shall Perish", he always said, and that statement has rang true from his first operation. No one has died on his operating table, and he's had many patients; Zebras, Gryphons, and even Changelings have unfortunately graced his operating table, and all of them have fortunately left. Always in tact and always alive, he's been called a miracle worker by too many for his liking; Celestia even offered him the highest non military Equestrian award available, a knighting, and he refused. Razor was content in his office, with only the white on the walls as company.
That's where he was on this particularly slow day. His thin, square glasses ran right under his moving grey eyes, which were the same color as the crossed scalpels that made up his cutie mark. His coat, the color of the walls, was messily wrinkled in various locations, and the sleeves were rolled up; that was normally against Canterlot Hospital protocol, but he was Razor Sharp, and he didn't ask for much. His navy blue fur was brushed to perfection, but his charcoal colored mane was not; it was cut short, but not styled, leaving it rather messy. He carried no facial hair, a rule the CH set that he didn't care to bend. It was a little odd, but no one seemed to want to question it, if they saw him at all.
If he wasn't in the operating room, he was in his office. He was constantly reading something, never went to hydrate or use the facilities, and the only beings he would talk to were his personal operating team and the head of the hospital, Coil Snake. This made Razor the subject of ongoing joke conspiracy theories circulating throughout the hospital; he was vampire who gave his patients the dark gift to survive, or he was so good because he was immortal and has had thousands of years of practice. Through his operating team, he was aware of these jokes; they were one of the only things any one of them could swear they saw him laugh at.
On this day, he was reading a book about Alicorn biology; the subject always fascinated him, as it was one of the only sentient species he had yet to operate on. The princesses typically used their doctors at their castles to tend to them, and they rarely ever had an injury so bad that they needed surgery as magic could heal all but the most dangerous cases. Sharp had been invited to the castle to work permanently, but he declined; there would be no action there. The book was useless, as no alicorn had ever walked into the Canterlot Hospital, and, as far as Sharp was concerned, no alicorn would ever do so.
However, as far as fate was concerned, that was about to change.
Lily Cross was a good surgeon. She didn't consider herself one, but she knew she had to be; she was the first one picked for Dr. Razor Sharp's operating team, and that was nothing to scoff at. While she was honored to be picked by Dr. Sharp, she would want nothing more than to leave the team; Sharp, brilliant as he was, was a bastard.
Sharp was in control in that operating room; every word he said was divine law, and that was the worst part; he knew it. He understood that anything he said was to be obeyed to the fullest extent; he was the general, and his team were the elite squadron of soldiers, ready to deploy on a moment's notice. He could be as rude, snide, sarcastic, and tyrannical as he wanted to be, and no one would raise an objection; he was Dr. Razor Sharp, after all. Dr. Lily Cross wasn't happy in her position of work, that went without question, but it wasn't just Dr. Razor Sharp; it was everything. In fact, she didn't even want to be a surgeon.
Children had been Lily Cross's soft spot ever since she hit adulthood. She loved to play with them, talk to them, and be in the environment they offered. Their innocence was a break from everything, and she loved every second of it. Thus, she wanted to work in the childbirth section in Canterlot Hospital, and feel the joy of bringing new life into the world. Two things prevented her from chasing such a goal; the first was the pay, which was almost three times smaller than the salary of a world class surgeon. Secondly, she couldn't bare to accept a failure in a job like that. She didn't think she'd be gifted with Dr. Sharp's ability to reanimate the dead, and she could never live with herself if an incident happened. And so, she was here, working under a miraculous despot. The white on the walls was not kind to Lily Cross, though she had gotten used to that by now.
Her white fur, along with her red and blue striped mane an tail, were in a hideous mess this morning; she had woken up late today. Her bright blue eyes were awake as ever, though, and she paced down the white corridor with an alertness rivaled by many of the employees here. You were not impaired under Dr. Razor Sharp; you were his soldiers, and you needed to be ready to charge head on into the fray on a seconds notice. Your scalpel was as fine a weapon as any, and you needed to be able to handle it with utmost precision; for Lily Cross, coffee and willpower had given her the boost she needed.
Today, however, she didn't think she'd be needing it; it was noon, and not a soul had entered the building yet. There was probably going to be at least one, sure, but not nearly as much traffic as usual. As she was just about to turn the corner and head to the restrooms, she had heard the ding of the door go off violently a ways behind her; someone had entered, and they were hurrying. Sighing, Lily began to turn around when she heard the clerk scream at the top of her lungs.
"LILY! GET OVER HERE!" screamed Flower, the hospital receptionist at the surgical wing. Lily was shocked for a moment; she didn't think that Flower, with her sunflower colored coat and her violet mane and pick eyes, along with her sheepish smile, din't have it in her to yell that loud. Whatever it was, it was serious, and it needed attention now. Eyes widening, Cross began to make her way towards the reception area; the bathroom could wait.
Lily began to speak as she was running into the room. "I came as quickly as I could! Is it a pony, or-"
Once Lily looked at the subject, and those in her company, her mouth dropped in shock. On a makeshift stretcher was none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle, appearing to be unconscious. She was bleeding from a few spots, but not profusely; nevertheless, it looked bad. Carrying said makeshift strecher were the two crown princesses of Equestria, Celestia and Luna, with a terrified look on their faces. Lily took a moment to compose herself before looking over at Flower, who was cowered behind her reception desk.
"This is where Dr. Sharp works, correct? The surgeon?" asked Luna, with a hint of haste in her worried voice. Lily quickly nodded an affirmative, still trying to comprehend what was transpiring, and pointed to the corridor that she had just used to enter the reception area.
"I-I'll go get him!" she barely got out, before running down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her. This whole situation was overwhelming, but she had a comfort in the back of her mind knowing one thing.
Whatever is wrong with her, Dr. Sharp can fix it.
The mere thought of a punctoplasty would be enough to make anyone shiver, which was the precise reason that Razor Sharp was reading about it. While it was a casual surgery, and Sharp tended to work in the emergency areas, he had to be prepared for anything; when a punctoplasty came up in a dire surgery, he would be ready. It also took about thirty minutes as well, so Sharp thought that he might as well learn it. It was during a particularly intriguing paragraph on the nature of tear ducts when a hysterical Lily Cross barged into his office.
Dr. Sharp looked up, his eyebrows raised in an unamused countenance. "Lily, I've told you not to just roll in here like a freight train-" before he could finish, Lily began to point back down the hallway she came from, and began to explain herself while trying to catch her breath.
"Princess Twilight is in the reception area, and she needs an operation, badly!" explained Lily. At these words, Sharp's facial expression somehow became even more unamused.
"You know I have no time for jokes, Lily, so get back to your..." Sharp began to trail off when he fully took in the fearful expression on Lily's face. Slowly, his face began to match it.
"By Celestia," he began in a half whisper, "You're serious..."
Like a racer out of the gate, Dr. Sharp flew out of his chair and sped down the hallway as fast as he could run. Lily Cross kept pace, and it didn't take them long before they made it to the reception area. They both sped to a halt, and Dr. Sharp took a look at the prone figure that greeted him. Upon seeing him, both princesses noticeably showed relief, and Celestia began to feverishly speaking as Dr. Sharp began to inspect his potential patient.
"Dr. Sharp, you have to help! The incident wasn't long ago, and we got her here as fast as we could! Can you save her?"she asked, her voice a mixture of worry and pleading.
"Of course I can." came the Doctor's reply. He began to mutter to himself fervently as he looked all over Twilight.
"A cornucentisis in the middle of the horn and a thoracocentisis, both to removal shrapnel...a punctoplasty will also be needed. We need to act now, let's go!"
Those were the words.
That was a battle cry from the general, raising his weapon high in the field of battle. He yearned for victory, and the determination twinkled in his eyes. He did not intend to lose this fight, if he had to lose any, as this was going to be a battle in itself. With a battle, you will need your soldiers. It is they who will carry the general's name, and carry the general himself high above them when the battle is won. Lily Cross was a soldier, and Doctor Sharp her general. With this surgery, they were charging headfirst into the most important battle of their lives.
As she ran beside him, clutching onto the stretcher on which one Equestria's most important figureheads lay dying, she saw in him a determination and mettle that, to be truthful, was quite frightening. Lily was sure that, in that moment, he could easily break down a brick wall if it meant saving the very patient on the strecher.
Lily Cross was ready.
