The one person none of the heroes or villains fucks with is known as "The Mad Doctor". he treats anyone who seeks his help, in exchange everyone turns a blind eye when he shows up to underprivileged neighborhoods to deliver free and technically illegal care. the new guy learns the hard way.
Foreword: Another prompt from r/WritingPrompts. Again, I was struck by inspiration when I saw it, and decided to write another thing in the setting of the Allied Heroes Commission, in the same vein as Wildcard: Luck of the Draw.
I put in work at the Silk Street Clinic on a regular basis. I didn't get any pay or recompense out of it. In part because it was part of the terms of my status, but mostly because I felt an obligation. I'd ended up the way I was because of neglect of care. Best thing I could do was make sure someone else didn't fall into The Life.
The clinic had its roster of healthcare providers, some of whom were a permanent fixture, some of whom rotated out from other, more well-to-do parts of the city. I was mostly a dogsbody, serving as an orderly more than anything. Fetching supplies, helping restrain thrashing patients, occasionally forcibly discharging troublemakers. I sympathized with a lot of them, sure. Some genuinely needed prescriptions for the drugs they were seeking-- the ones who needed meta blockers especially-- but sometimes they were just chasing a high, and they had to be shown the door.
Every so often, though, someone decided they wanted to flex. Try to intimidate the staff into giving them their pills or whatever. Didn't usually work, because that brought attention. Sometimes, my being there got them to back down. Sometimes, it didn't, but I usually didn't have to do much. The Allied Heroes Commission took an interest in clinics like Silk Street's, and even if the Commission didn't, we were right on the border of Neo Kobe, and the Umbra liked to make sure that we were left in peace.
But, as I said, every so often, someone thinks they see a hole in the hierarchy and tries to fill it.
The thug was into The Life far enough that he'd already moved past the 'bargain bin cosplay' stage of presentation, but that just meant he'd put a little effort into looking more fearsome. I could still see the shaky lines in his craftsmanship on the crude claw-mark design he'd put on his face-mask and vest. One eye bulged grotesquely, but not as grotesque as his left arm, which had swollen twice its usual size, the skin cracked and oozing a dark purple sludge. Spines had sprouted from some of the cracks, and his thumb and a couple of his fingers had elongated into vicious claws that glimmered with violet fire.
I knew how dangerous those claws were. He'd just ripped open one of the waiting patients with a swipe. Damn near tore my leg off too. It was all I could do to sit up against the wall, and I've had my share of painful experiences. Whatever energy this guy used just cut straight through my mental blocks I'd developed while coping with pain.
"Right! Now I've made my point," the brute snapped his claws together, causing some purple sparks to fly off. His voice was a mangled growl, words slurring together. "Unless you want more people to get hurt, bring me the stuff!" This was addressed to two of the doctors, Dr. Bill Travers, one of the regulars and one of the rotating specialists, I think her name was Something Patreski.
Dr. Patreski was nervous. "Bill, get him what he wants!" I tried to remember what I'd heard about her. I think she did a lot of concierge care for the rich pricks up in Old Cove Town. This was only her second time on rotation at Silk Street, but the first time something like this had happened.
But Doc Bill was keeping his calm, his hands raised. "I know how this works," he said, not to her, but to the brute. "Let me get you what you're asking for." He gestured to the phone, and got an impatient gesture from the brute. Bill picked up the handset, dialed a code, then spoke into it, his voice echoing over the tannoy. "Doctor Alcomb, we have a Code Silver. Doctor Alcomb, Code Silver in the practice."
Hearing this, I started chuckling, clutching my leg above the injury. "Well, that'll do it," I muttered to myself.
The brute-- what'd he call himself? Culling or something?-- glared at me, eye nearly bulging out of its socket, swollen and oozing. "What'd you say, old man!?"
I just shook my head. "Won't be long now," I assured him, smiling. Or at least showing my teeth.
Culling raised his claw in my direction, but Doc Bill raised his voice. "No need for that, now! We," he gestured at himself and Patreski, "don't have the code to open the cabinet where the meta blockers and high-end stuff is kept."
"Just show me where the cabinet is," Culling growled. "I can just rip my way in--"
He stopped, because he noticed the strange woman that had entered and crouched near me and the eviscerated patient. Rail-thin, her skin was so pale as to be nearly translucent, her colorless hair cropped short but still drifting about her head, caught in the smallest of air currents. She wore a set of red scrubs, but a much-stained white coat hung open over these. Her eyes glimmered like a fire opal as she took in the sight of the bloody mess in the lobby of the clinic.
She held a hand-carved wooden cane in one hand as she gently probed at my leg. I couldn't stop a hiss of pain from coming out. She raised her thin brows. "Greg Williams," she sighed. "If this is causing you actual pain, then it's more serious than it looks."
"Looks worse than it is," I grunted. "Think there's something in the claws. Not poison, just--"
She clicked her tongue and tapped the wound with the head of her cane. "Hush, now. I'll make sure you're taken care of." Without standing, she turned her eyes to the clinic staff. "Anyone else hurt?"
"No, Doctor Alcomb. Just Greg and--" Doc Bill paused, and looked to Petreski. "The other man was your patient." There was a note of reproach in his voice when she momentarily looked blank.
"Ned Michelson," Petreski supplied after a moment's thought. She hadn't had to refer to a chart or anything, which earned her a note of grudging respect from Bill.
The pale woman in the stained coat nodded. Then she finally turned her opalescent gaze to Culling. "And you?" She looked over his swollen arm, his eye. "Are you in pain?"
"I don't feel pain," the brute snarled, spittle flying as he loomed over her. "I cause it!"
She nodded once. "Hm. Quite." And with one fluid movement, she flipped her cane around, jabbing the head of it into the thug's thigh. I felt a sudden surge of energy in my leg, and my body lurched slightly as the nasty cut across my leg suddenly pulled itself shut, sinew and skin sealing back together without a scar.
At the same moment, Culling howled in agony as his leg suddenly burst open, spilling blood and purple ooze as he collapsed. And the grotesque transformation reverted itself, his arm dwindling back down to normal, his claws receding. Even his eye stopped bulging, though it still wept ooze. He clutched at his leg, bellowing in pain as she stood over him.
"I expect my clinics to be safe places," Dr. Alcomb's voice was cold, flat. "I don't ask questions about why or how someone got hurt or sick. I simply heal them. Everyone who comes to my clinics is expected to treat everyone in them with dignity and respect."
By this point, I'd gotten up and was quickly rifling through Culling's pockets. He tried to muster a protest, but I just slapped him on his injured leg to get him to shut up. Eventually, I stood up and addressed the albino woman. "Nope, no sign that he's with the Umbra. Or any of the other gangs. That means he's a rogue factor."
Dr. Alcomb nodded to me, then glanced toward a corner of the room. I followed her gaze, where a surprisingly nondescript man in a gray coat and hood stood, hands clasped behind his back. When he saw us, he gave a little bow of the head. "Doctor. I understand your clinic has had some trouble?"
She raised a finger, holding off a response, just as the door to the street opened, as a woman in a dark green hero's uniform alit on the sidewalk. A tech-tiara glittered on her forehead as she did a cursory sweep of the room. She clocked the body of the patient first, then myself, then the gray man in the corner, before she gave Culling and then Dr. Alcomb a look. "Doctor Alcomb. Do you require assistance?"
The doctor shook her head. "I believe the fight's gone out of this one," she lightly poked Culling in the chest with her cane. She bowed her head to both of them. "But I appreciate that the Umbra is so willing to step in to assist, Obscurus. Likewise, the Commission, Neura. Though both of your organizations were slow to respond."
"Deepest regrets, Doctor," Obscurus said with another bow. "We may have eyes everywhere, but word still only travels so quickly."
"As, indeed, with us," Neura agreed. "So many demands on our attention, only a few of us in the capacity to respond."
She paused. "May I ask as to what you intend to do with Sean Finney here?" This was evidently Culling's name.
Dr. Alcomb considered the wretched man. There was a disquieting gleam in her eye as she smiled at him. "I've wondered if I can transfer the pain and the wounds of a terminal patient-- indeed, a POST-terminal patient-- to someone." She looked from the thug to the body on the floor, then nodded her head. She tucked her cane under her arm and clapped her hands. "Prep the tables! I need two minimum, one for our patient and one for our subject here."
Still smiling, she turned to the other patients, who had been cringing back in the lobby, trying to avoid the brute's gaze and claw. "Ladies and gentlemen and other assorted gender assignations, I apologize for the trouble. Rest assured, I will be seeing to your care personally. But I understand if you feel this place is not safe. I can only apologize again, and promise this will not happen again."
Dr. Alcomb turned to the Umbra agent and the Commission hero. "I thank you for your offers of assistance, but I don't think I shall need it at this time. But I may require some assistance later. If only for..." She glanced at Culling. "...disposal."
Obscurus smiled. "I think that we can arrange to help there."
Neura made a face. "We'd prefer that he see the inside of a cell, at least for a little while." She gave Dr. Alcomb a look. "Please don't kill him."
Again, that mad smile. "You have my promise that he will not die while in my care. No matter how much he may wish for it."
No comments:
Post a Comment