Villain's plan

Breathe in.

I take a quick look around, dozens of people in colourful costumes stand around in groups. Some of them are staring straight at me, perhaps feeling a sense of familiarity with the few of my features not usually covered by a mask.

Breathe out.

I stride past them all through a bright room with a huge vaulted ceiling. Decorated banners hang down the many pillars, each embroidered with the icons of legendary Heroes. At the end of the room, in the direction I was heading, a long desk stretched from wall to wall with dozens of clerks seated or hurrying through the documents behind. I smile wryly at the spectacle of it all, built solely to awe and impress upon the populace the might of the organisation behind it. An organisation I nominally stood against.

There were three rules to the Villain Society; never work with the Heroes, never steal credit from other Villain’s plans and never target the family of other villains. Working against each other and betrayal were all a-okay apparently, just so long as you followed those rules. And over the course of the week I have been breaking every single one.

“Welcome to the Hero Association, how might I help you today?” Asked the receptionist, wearing her friendliest smile.

“Yes hello, might I be able to speak to management here a bit?” I asked, a slight grin now adorning my lips, “I have some information about a major Villain operation in less than a days time.”

The receptionist’s smile strained slightly at my words. “Sir, any information you have you can report to me. Might I take your name?”

I can feel my mouth stretch into a wide smile, I can’t help it knowing what’s about to happen. The receptionist grimaces at the sight of it. Rude. Though I suppose I have been told I have quite the sinister smile. Some of my peers even seem to think I’ve been practising it.

“Sorry, sorry, how rude of me. I’m the Villain, Legion.”

The receptionist’s face freezes, I see her eyes glaze as she desperately tries to process what I’ve said. The surrounding conversations all stop and I feel several gazes snap in my direction. Then, as suddenly as the silence had descended, the room exploded into chaos.

***

“Legion,” Said a gruff voice, belonging to a large man in an ill fitting suit. Massive muscles bulged against his shirt and trousers, threatening to burst free at any moment. He was reading off a clipboard in his hands. “Responsible for 12 major heists, 5 cases of substantial property damage, countless petty crime and prime suspect in last weeks Dorseyside incident. A handful of deaths but no Heroes. Has the power to create and remotely control clones of himself. Rated a C level threat, pending a decision on upgrade to B level.”

The man turned to the table I’m sat at, the only furniture in this small windowless room, and slams the clipboard down in front of me. Scary scary. This isn’t going to be a case of police brutality is it? I don’t want anything to happen to my winning smile.

Well, not that this man is police. The hulking brute in front of me is Gloryday, the fourth ranked Hero of the Association. I’m flattered that they think that much of me but it’s not great for my heart, there’s now a chunk of the table missing where the clipboard struck it. Interestingly the board itself seems fine-

“What are you after?!” Gloryday roared at me. It seems he’d noticed I’d gotten distracted and was none too pleased.

“I told that kind receptionist you know?” I said. Oh dear, I’m still smiling from that. It was like I’d kicked an ant-hive back there, super-powered drones positively leapt out of the woodwork. I should definitely do that again sometime.

Whoops, he’s starting to look pissed again. I quickly open my mouth again. “I’ve come to share information that I think you’ll have an interest in.”

The veteran Hero glanced back at the only other person in the room, a lanky woman lent in the corner behind him, before turning back to me after she nodded.

“We’ll hear you out.”

I feel my smile growing wider again, but I quickly restrain it. “It’s a simple story. Long ago, in  a time where The City’s underworld was in free for all, a society appeared with a simple set of rules that-”

“The rules you’re about to break?” Gloryday growled. Not one for dramatic build up I guess. Best just get on with it.

“Yes yes, the very same. Well someone’s broken the rules, and they’ve holed up their private bunker. The Society’s top brass have clubbed together and they’re planning to make an example of the poor chap. I can tell you exactly when and where they’re going to strike. These are some of the biggest Villains plaguing The City. I’m sure you people have something to gain from this.”

The table creaked as Gloryday leant his weight on it to stare me in the eyes. “And what do you get out of this?”

“My poor, dear Gloryday. It’s elementary is it no-” I stop at the sound of his cracking knuckles. Dude needs to learn to chill. “You go to catch the biggest baddies, and I suddenly have a lot of room to grow. Well a pardon for some of my other crimes would be nice on top of that. Just a few? Take some heat off my back?”

Ignoring my puppy dog eyes, Gloryday rubbed his jaw and looked back at the woman behind him. As she nodded again he turned back to me.

“I assume it would be pointless to try and hold you after we’re done? This is a clone right?”

“Gloryday, buddy, pal. Do you really think I would walk directly into the belly of the beast? The den of all, well most, of those who’d seek my downfall, without some kind of out?” I ask with a laugh.

“Alright. Give us the information and we’ll consider acting on it.” He said, glowering at me. “As for the pardons, well we’ll see after we’ve finished.”

After a few minutes of me exposing all of the villains plans for the night Gloryday stood up and headed to the door, with the woman in tow. I’m so damn glad that the info that the Association had someone who’s power could distinguish truth and lies was real, it would have been a massive pain to prove to them I wasn’t feeding them bull. Though it was just as well they didn’t ask me about the Dorseyside incident. If I hadn’t stolen credit for that they wouldn’t have taken me seriously enough for this all to work.

***

My abilities allowed me to create countless copies of myself, however I could only control a handful with any degree of finesse. More copies than that would be very limited in what they could do so currently there were only four of me running around. One sat in the Hero Association, one sat securely in my secret base, one out getting some errands done and the last one was currently babysitting.

Of course my true body was in the safest of those places but currently I was looking out through the eyes of the me watching over a kid. His mum was there too but she was sat in the corner being lazy so I was doing all the work.

“No, this piece goes there.” Said the child, a blue eyed boy about 8 or 9. He was carefully following the instructions of his lego set whilst getting me to put it together for him. We were sat in a fairly large room with a table in between us almost covered in toys and models. There were a few windows along one wall looking out into a city street several floors below. The sole exit to the room sat behind me.

“But won’t it be cooler if we put these pieces here and here? It’ll be like it’s got wings!” I tell him. He’s been really cutting into my creative freedom for hours now.

The boy folds his arms seriously and stares at me. “We gotta build it up by the instructions first, then you can play with it.”

“My poor boy!” I cry, placing my hands upon his shoulders. “The damn institutionalists have already gotten to you!”

“STOP IT!”

The boy jumps at the scream from the corner of the room and turns to his mother.

“M-mommy? What’s wrong?” He asks whilst cautiously approaching her.

But the woman ignores him, rising to her feet and glaring murderously at me. Damn that’s actually pretty scary, I know she’s not armed but I’m positively shaking here.

“How long?” She says, trying to peer directly into my eyes, “How much longer are you going to keep us trapped up in here?!”

I sigh and place the lego model on the table. “It won’t be long now, things are coming together quite nicely. Hell, it shouldn’t even be another 30 minutes.”

Maintaining eye contact for a good dozen seconds more, the woman eventually begins to deflate. She collapses back into her chair in the corner and pulls her son into her arms. The poor kid’s mouth hangs open in bewilderment as she murmurs to me in a barely noticeable voice; “Why us?”

I smile back at her. “You know exactly what business your husbands into. Hell you’ve even called him Blacklist several times while making your rather impolite threats. I just needed a convenient mole.”

“But why,” She asks listlessly, “why are you doing this?”

I laugh to myself. She doesn’t care, she’s probably just trying to make sense of it all. Of when I turned up yesterday at her house, gun in hand, to take her and her son on a little trip out. The poor woman doesn’t actually care about why I’m doing this. But let’s tell her, I have a bit of time to kill.

“It all started… When I was born.”

The way she blanched at that made the false start totally worth it. Though I could have done without the immediate switch back to morose hatred when I burst into laughter at her.

When I was done laughing, I began. “No, sorry, it started long before that. It started when those with powers first started appearing in the City, and then immediately took over. They strutted around like peacocks until the next batch of even stronger freaks showed up. The cycle continued on and on as the circus in charge split into two factions, the Heroes and the villains and started battling in the streets. And yet what was the difference? The Heroes didn’t care diddly squat for your average joe in the street, they became a class of their own removed from the common man! And the Villains, they didn’t even pretend to hide their arrogance behind pretty words! Their fights escalated, dragging more and more common folk into their petty squabbles. Yet despite these deaths the masses adored them, children idolizing Heroes and everyone desperately scrambling to reach those heights. Those who didn’t have a chance, who had weak powers, were ridiculed and persecuted. Tales of tragedy all too common. A father who was caught in the middle of a super-powered slap fight. A widowed mother who was forced out onto the streets because she lacked power!”

I paused, though not because I thought she might answer. She was now completely cowed into a corner, holding her son so tightly I was actually worried he might get hurt. I was just surprised. There was no longer any humour in my voice.

I took a deep breath and put the familiar mocking, sinister grin back on my face. “This city worships those with power, be they a Hero or a Villain. But tonight-”

I stopped as I focused more attention to another body. Then I turned back to the shivering woman and her utterly shell shocked son.

“Well it’s been fun, but your husband really was right with his info. I gotta go, shit to do!” With that my connection to the room cut off, and my body probably disappeared or melted or something. I’ve never really bothered finding out what happens to my disconnected clones.

***

Back in my super secret hideout I was finally joined by the guest I’d been waiting for all night. In a dingy gray room somewhere underground a shadowy figure stole through the lone entryway that I’d been sat in front of all day.

“Good evening Nighteye, I suspected you’d get here first.” I said with a smile, which the intruder had to turn away from as the shadows dissolved around them. Now that’s really rude, she’s a villain too! She should be dying to get a smile like mine.

The unnatural darkness had finally dissipated enough to reveal the slender figure dressed, perhaps a little predictably, in black trousers and a black jacket. The leather mask covering the top half of her face matched in colour. It’s an improvement on the bright, gaudy get up of the Heroes but I’d really appreciate some innovation from my peers.

“Legion.” The woman shortly responds. “I didn’t expect to find you so calm.”

She inspects the empty room as I recline back in my chair. Damn I wish I had a drink in hand to look real dapper.

“Where’s the rest of the guys?” I ask, “I expected at least Demon Fingers to be here by now…”

Nighteye finally turned to face me, looking triumphant. Well I assume it was triumph, it’s so hard to tell with all the masks all the time.

“They’re all upstairs with your new friends. But don’t worry, they won’t take long.” She laughed. “Did you really think we wouldn’t notice you waltz right up to the Hero Alliance’s front desk? We all knew you were kinda nuts but this is ridiculous.”

She started to circle the room all the while mocking me as I sat there, drinkless. “When we heard about your little visit we knew exactly what you were planning. We beefed up our attack force, you’re saviours aren’t coming.” She eventually finished gloating and rounded back to staring down at me.

“Any last words?”

Ah man. I can’t hold it in. I began to laugh. It started with a little giggle that looked like it really pissed off Nighteye, which triggered me into a burst of raucous laughter. Under her withering gaze I eventually sputtered out into sporadic cackling.

“Are you done?” She asked, forming a spear out of the surrounding shadows.

“You lot a so fucking arrogant.” I tell her. And while she pauses in mild surprise I continue. “Villains, Heroes, you are all so god damn full of yourselves. It’s all about who’s got the biggest fireball chucking, head exploding dick! You wouldn’t even deign to think that the crazy clone guy is pulling all your strings. And you don’t even pay attention to anyone who has an ability that can’t be used in one of your super-powered slap fights.”

“Alright you crazy bastard, time to die.” Nighteye says, lining up her shadow spear.

“Like poor old Greg. He can make explosives, but has no way to arm them or set them off without blowing himself to kingdom come. Useless in combat, but imagine the amount of firepower you can set up with about 3 years of having him work non-stop in your secret lair as you pack the walls, ceilings and floors with the stuff?”

For the first time since we started to chat, Nighteye looked something other than angry or condescending. I took a silent second to bask in her fear before everything went all explodey.

***

The last of my clones had donned a crappy disguise and been gathering as many citizens as I could possibly find and gather them as close as might be safe from my hideout-cum-deathtrap. It was a delightful get together as we watched a frantic melee between most of the most powerful Heroes and Villains in The City be engulfed by an enormous fireball beyond anything they’d ever seen.

So enraptured by the flames were the crowd that no one even noticed me disappearing as I confirmed the Hero response teams scrambling to try and control the situation.

***

My real body was in the safest place in The City, the stronghold of its so called protectors. I opened my eyes back in the cells of the Hero Association. Now that almost everyone available had been scrambled to deal with the situation outside, it was about time to make my exit.

I created 20 clones of myself who, while I could not control directly, would be able to follow simple commands to help my escape. After we got out they’d all split up and I should be able to make a clean getaway.

All in all I rated today as a success, and made sure to smile at everyone as I left.

The Doctor and the Lone Wolf

Piercing rain lashed down all around, carried forth by roiling black clouds. Water poured down the slightly rounded road, most spilling into the vast fields on either side while some puddled into the uneven indentures of the road’s surface. Amongst the cacophony of endless precipitation the more steady, even beat of a pair of boots could be heard walking down the highway.

The traveller wore a large coat over his black robes in an effort to stave off the water. His hood was pulled up over his head and his face was covered by a long beaked mask. The mask of a plague doctor.

The Doctor strode forward through the rain, his only concession to it’s incessant deluge was to slightly lower his head to avoid water running down in the inside of his mask. He’d heard about this season during his travels in these parts, the locals dubbed it aptly ‘God’s Weeping’, however he’d not quite believed the stories. It was supposed to keep up for weeks so the Doctor had no choice but to shoulder on through.

“This suites you,” Chimed a cheerful voice from upon his shoulder, “wet and bedraggled, thoroughly miserable. I can see why you chose to come this way.”

The Doctor didn’t reply, nor even turn to look at the speaker. He carried on walking past the rows of flooded fields filled with the strange grain that the people in the region lived off. It apparently needed huge amounts of space and water to grow properly, both of which available currently in huge quantities. The only thing breaking the sight of endless fields ahead was a single tree bowed wearily by the roadside.

The voice grumbled discontentedly, however the Doctor easily zoned it out. There was nothing on his shoulder. Out here, boots kicking up water as he advanced, he was completely alone.

A wet cough from underneath the tree snapped him from his thoughts.

Sat before him, back rested up against the trunk, an armoured man watched him. Or more, he looked like a man. He wore a mixture of leather and iron armour, brown droplets running down from the rain and coating of dirt. A sword was dug into the ground beside him, an odd weapon with one side flat and blunt and the other gleaming with a vicious sharpness. Although the face was not visible from standing, tufts of wet, matted fur were poking out of the open helmet.

Fur. It was a demi-human.

The Doctor looked around to make sure there was no one else, then quickly strode over and lowered himself to his knees beside his new found patient. A swift inspection revealed a deep cut to the side of the metal breastplate and with a hum of concentration he reached into his robes for a knife to cut away the leather around the wound.

As he turned back to his patient a hand snatched at his wrist. The Doctor span back around to be confronted with the murderous eyes of the wounded soldier.

“Get away from me.” The would be patient growled.

The Doctor held the glare evenly, replying in a firm voice. “I’m a doctor, I’m going to help you.”

“I don’t need any help!” Roared the man, shoving the Doctor’s arm away with surprising force. “Especially from your wretched kind, human!”

Steadying himself from the push, the Doctor carefully rose to his feet. He was no stranger to this sort of reaction from Demi’s, so with a weary sigh he reached behind his head and unfastened the clasps of his mask.

“Will you let me help you now?” He asked as the beaked mask fell away to reveal yet another beak and a black feathered face.

Ignoring the surprised grunt he quickly knelt back down and brought his knife back to the leather. There were no further complaints so he quite happily worked in silence for a very welcome change. Well as silent as could be in the middle of a rainstorm.

The lull didn’t last long though as his taciturn companion’s curiosity eventually bested him.

“What,” He asked, “in the nine bloody gates is a Crow face doctor doing this far east?”

The Doctor stifled another sigh. It was a fair question, he was quite the oddity even amongst his people. Especially amongst his people. He shrugged.

“I’m looking for something.” He said.

“Oh come on cone face! That’s the biggest non-answer I’ve ever heard.” The wounded man complained, his growling voice now seemed just to be the default state rather than explicit anger. “What are you looking for?”

The Doctor didn’t react to the odd jibe sent his way, but paused his work to consider. His tribe were gone, he did not hold onto hope of finding any of them. Their enemies were half a continent away, he would not find them out here.

“Absolution?” Suggested the small voice from his shoulder. “However fruitless that may be.”

The Doctor snapped his attention back to his patient, glancing at the gray, canid face, then back to the wound he was carefully cleaning.

“How does a Wolf-man end up bleeding to death under a tree?” He shot back in an attempt to turn the conversation.
Yellow eyes regarded him for a moment, before the wounded man burst into barking laughter.

“Alright alright, I won’t pry. But I’ll be happy to share my story with you.” He said, “Might as well let someone hear it before I die”

“Your wounds are nowhere near deadly.” The Doctor protested.

The Wolf-man ignored him and launched into his story. “I’m a mercenary, if you hadn’t noticed. Left my pack years ago and struck out on my own. I eventually found my way to Lyrel, you must have gone through to get out here. Had a nice job with in the Mayor’s personal guard. He was a decent chap, for a human. He barely seemed to care I was a demi and I could ignore the other towns folk.”

He broke off to cough into his hand, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. The Doctor had moved to sewing the cut closed, and was absolutely confident his patient would survive this.

“Well the Mayor, he had a daughter see? A lovely young lady, so bright and curious.” The Wolf-man said, his snout twisting into an approximation of a smile. “As the best soldier in his guard I often was set watching over her, so I regaled the little lady with tales of far off lands and… exaggerated adventures. We grew quite close, heck I reckon the brat had a crush on this old wolf.”

The Wolf-man allowed himself a moment of reminiscence, then smile vanished and he continued. “Well she was apparently quite the looker, among humans at least. Eventually some local lordly big wig caught wind and decided he wanted her as a wife.”

The story stopped as the Doctor was tying a bandage across the shoulder. Despite his initial lack of interest he found himself asking; “So, what did you do?”

The Wolf-man laughed. A sadder, lonelier laugh. “I left. She will be happy with someone powerful like that, she’ll be able to leave this tiny town and see the larger world.”

The Doctor looked back up into those empty, yellow eyes. He could not judge the man for his choice. Instead he asked the last question; “The wounds?”

“Well,” The Wolf-man said with a grin, “looks like his lordship didn’t appreciate how friendly I had been with his new wife. I can understand, I’m quite the dashing fellow. Bastard didn’t have to send the troops to kill me though.”

The Doctor finished his work and stood slowly to allow his patient some room. The Wolf-man clambered to his feet and stretched his arm out. He said his thanks to the Doctor and tossed over a pouch of coins.

Feeling the weight the Doctor quickly looked up and exclaimed, “I can’t take all this! It’s far too much!”

“Keep the extra, for listening to my story. I’m not going to need it anyways.” The wolf-man declared, his ears twitching as he turned to look back down the road. “And put your mask back on.”

The Doctor hesitated, tempted to chuck the whole bag back regardless. But he heard it too. Barely audible above the constant rain he heard the approach of horse hooves from further up the road.

“I can’t help you fight.” The Doctor warned.

His companion raised his blade. Ignoring the pouring rain the warrior moved out from the limited shelter of the tree and stood ready in the middle of the road.

“I know,” He replied, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But please, witness my last fight.”

***

The wait did not last long, within moments a group of riders emerged from the shroud of rain. There were six in total, kicking up clouts of water as they came. Five wore a simple iron breastplate and helmet, covering the rest of themselves with leather armour and clutching short spears in their hands. The last sat astride a great war-horse, clad head to toe in a full set of polished steel plate and a greatsword strapped to his back.

The Wolf-man glanced over them, realising that they’d easily ride him down on the road. Not that he’d have a chance taking all of them on at the same time. He fingered the knives tied to his left vambrace, keeping his sword in his off-hand.

Within a few more seconds the group was nearly upon them, stopping just short of their tree. No one moved to dismount, instead glaring warily at the lone figure on the road. The plated man urged his horse slightly closer, sparing a quick glance for the Doctor and then thankfully tuning out his existence.

“You did well, filth, to have me come out personally to hunt you down. It’s good you hadn’t gone far.” The man said, “I do not normally deal with refuse such as yourself. Be honoured that you might die in my presence.”

The Wolf-man looked up at the steel clad knight, then around at the other riders of the troop. He sagged slightly at the inevitability of it all, then forced himself straight and readied his sword.

“I do not fear death human. I will die fighting and join my ancestors in the great hunt.” He declared, “I just hope I won’t ruin your face further, for your wife’s sake.”

The plated man leered at him with confusion. “Wife? What are you- Ah! You’re talking about that bumpkin of a Mayor’s daughter? Oh good heavens no! A filthy animal has been at her, I could never stoop that low!”

“Wh-what?!” The Wolf-man cried, falling out of his ready stance as he stared wide eyed. “I’d never- Then you mean the Lady has been left back there all alone?”

“Left there?” The plated man said with an amused grin. “After insulting me? Of course not, I made sure to see her burn.”

All became still. Even the falling rain seemed to seemed to slow to a halt. The Doctor, stood forgotten beneath the tree, remained still as the pouch of coins slipped from his hands. It fell through water droplets and landed in a puddle with an inaudible splash.

The Wolf-man roared and the world began to spin back into motion. The rain crashed down all around him as he charged forwards, keeping close to the ground. Two knives had appeared in his hand as he rapidly approached the riders. One knife was sent hurtling towards the open face of the nearest soldier, the second flung at the neck of the lord’s horse.

As the knives flew towards their targets, as the guards reacted to the sudden charge, the Wolf-man pulled himself to one side, heading to the flooded fields. His free hand slammed into the slabs, using his claws to pivot. The guards had to die before he could kill the Lord. He leapt from the road as the knives connected. One guard fell screaming from his horse as the blade pierced his cheek. The other knife scored a shallow gash across the horses neck, almost making it throw its rider.

“After him!” Screamed the plated lord, struggling to regain control. The remaining guards rushed out into the fields.

The Wolf-man growled as he squelched into the fields, running through the mud and water as quickly as possible to get to more solid ground. Behind him the recently formed quagmire proved deadly to the charging horses, tripping them as riders went flying.

“Dismount!” The smartest among them yelled, “The horses can’t wade through this muck!”


Soon the four guardsmen, a couple coated completely in mud, were running up a small incline chasing their target. As they reached the top the Wolf-man span on his heels and charged them. His sword sliced through the rain as it cut into one surprised man’s throat, then he brought it back down to cut at another guards leg.

A spear head thrust out towards him and the Wolf-man fell backwards, rolling swiftly to his feet. He held his sword steady as three spears were levelled against him. Cursing could be heard further back as the lord struggled towards them in his heavy armour. Two of the guards subconsciously turned their heads to check on their leader. The Wolf-man charged the third.

He ducked under the poorly aimed thrust, gripping his sword in reverse as he swept it upwards. His blade sheared clean through a leg as he started to dart backwards. Slightly too slow. Two more spears were thrust at him, one he managed to deflect. The other sliced past his ankle, opening a new large cut.

Barely managing to prevent a fatal stumble he straightened himself and faced his foes. Looking behind them revealed the armoured lord slowly trudging up the hill, almost upon them. With another roar the Wolf-man leapt towards the final two guards, wildly flinging his final knife as he raised his sword for an overhead swing.

As one guard hastily swatted at the incoming knife the other raised the haft of his spear to block the approaching sword. With a mighty growl the Wolf-man twisted his entire body into the blow, slicing through wood and cutting into flesh and bone. He grinned as he saw he’d gone through the spear and buried his sword deep into the man’s chest. The grin vanished as he realised the sword was stuck.

A white pain exploded in his shoulder as he tried to free his blade. Turning he found the final guard had managed to pierce him while he was distracted. The man had just enough time to laugh in celebration before he found a set of wolf’s jaws tearing a chunk of flesh from his throat.

The Wolf-man ignored the gurgled scream as he attempted to sort his newly acquired puncture. Realising he was losing enough blood already he decided not to try and pull it out. Instead he snapped the haft as short as possible to try and keep it out of the way. He finished just in time to see the armoured lord already behind him, greatsword already pulled back in preparation to swing.

There was no time to dodge. The Wolf-man’s only choice was to try and block with his vambrace and leap back to soften the blow. That wasn’t enough. As his enemies blade collided with his arm he was sent hurtling backwards, landing sprawled in the mud.

With a groan he tried to push himself back up, but found he had no strength in his arms. A cursory inspection revealed that one was not just broken, but also halfway cut off with blood streaming out of it. The other fared little better. He looked back up to the unwelcome sight of lord looming over him.

He tried to bite at the man, but the bastard just laughed as he punched the snapping snout then held it closed. Then he grasped his greatsword with one hand and slowly began to raise it.

The Wolf-man lay back, his muscles relaxing with the inevitability and his eyes close. He listened to the rain as it pooled on his face. As he waited an image formed in his mind. A young lady, curious, innocent and much too kind.

With a half screamed roar he found his remaining hand sweeping up to his shoulder, grasping at the remains of the spear. Howling in pain and fury he ripped it free from his flesh and slammed the point into a gap in the visor of his hateful foe. The armoured man spasmed as the point made its way into his skull, and then he collapsed to the ground.

The Wolf-man looked up silently into the grey sky and the never ending rain. He didn’t get up. He couldn’t get up. He waited as water, blood and tears were slowly sucked greedily into the ground below.

Eventually a figure appeared above him, clad in black and wearing that familiar, creepy mask. The figure didn’t help, didn’t try to treat any of the many wounds. They both knew that there wouldn’t be any point. He just sat silently to the side.

The Wolf-man wanted to say something. A piece of useful advice from an experienced traveller. A cautionary tale for the young doctor. Well he assumed the doctor was young, it was tricky to tell. He could even have asked about the hazy shape sat watching from the Bird-man’s shoulder.

In the end he didn’t. The two just sat in silence until eventually the Wolf-man could not help but close his eyes. He would be able to meet her now. Maybe there wouldn’t be a need to leave her in the next world. He went to sleep.

***

It was a long while after the Wolf-man had breathed his last when the Doctor finally climbed to his feet. He dragged the body under the tree and sat it upright facing back the town. Wolf-kin did not appreciate being buried and he had no desire to help any of the rest of them.

“He was bleeding out.” The Doctor stated, “I would never have been able to save him.”

Rain slammed into him as he pulled his coat up tighter.

“He didn’t even want to be saved.” The Doctor declared. “He’d just lost everything!”

Water splashed up around his feet as he turned away from the corpse.

“He died satisfied! He-” The Doctor stopped, and faced back to the town of Lyrell.

He’d won. The Wolf-man had won. And yet why. Why did he look so unfulfilled? Why did he look so damned familiar in those final moments?

Eventually the Doctor turned back and headed in the direction he’d been going. The wrong direction.

For the first time in a long while the voice was silent as the Doctor set back out on his journey.

The Doctor

The morning air of the town of Brodrem was thick with the thrum of crowds moving and pushing
against each other as they went about their daily business. The hot weather of late summer meant the
streets were saturated with farmers bringing their harvest in to sell at the markets, and large queues
formed at each of the town’s gates. Already many found themselves sweating in the morning heat,
most were hoping to escape into the city before the noon sun bore down upon them.

However, at Brodrem’s North gate, something different was occuring. The crowds of impatient farmers
were desperately parting, allowing a figure to stride through. Whispering amongst themselves they
glared warily at the individual, a tall man wrapped in a large black cloak. Most distinctively of all was
the long pointed beak protruding from the hood, part of the mask of a plague doctor.

Men of such a profession were treated with disgust and fear, forcing the peasants to distance
themselves as much as possible. The Doctor didn’t care. Their foolish superstition even allowed him a
straight path to the gate. If he could, he might have even smiled.

“What a miserable bunch.” Chimed a childish voice from his shoulder. “It’s not everyday they have a
free walking freakshow appear, and they’re just avoiding you!”

The Doctor ignored the voice knowing that no one else could hear it, and even if he turned his head to
to look there’d be nothing there. He moved towards the guards and pulled his identity papers from
under his cloak with a gloved hand. Just like the farmers, the guards wanted as little to do with the
plague doctor as possible. With barely a glance from a distance they quickly waved him through and
into the town of Brodrem. The Doctor was most grateful for their attitude.

His luck did not last long, however. The town's streets were so packed that the masses couldn’t avoid
him even if they wanted to. They still tried to back away from him, but occasionally someone might
brush against him before recoiling away. He wasn’t any more comfortable mixing with them either,
however his main goal today was to resupply his stock of herbs for his medicines. With his personal
bubble increasingly under threat the doctor hurried down the streets, lined with various stalls and
shops, quickly peering into each as he passed.

Perusing through the market, the various details of life in Brodrem began to reveal themselves to him.
Grates along the roadside led down to an ancient sewer system, though with how most these grates
seemed backed up with filth it was obvious it was poorly maintained. At every street corner several
beggars reached out crying for alms. Rats were often chased out from underneath food stalls, though
were otherwise largely left alone as they scurried the streets. None of this escaped the Doctor’s
experienced eyes as he slowly pieced together a picture of the town. Although it was the voice from
his shoulder that put it to words.

“Well, this place is a bit of a shit-hole.” It said with a snigger.

The Doctor frowned at it’s vulgarity, but otherwise ignored the voice again. It wasn’t wrong however.
While it might be average by the standards of this particular kingdom, for a man such as himself there
was a lot to be desired of Brodrem. He shrugged to himself, it didn’t particularly matter to him how the
town was faring.

Eventually the Doctor spotted an apothecary down an almost empty side road, which he happily
headed towards. Even if they weren’t selling the raw herbs at least they might be able to direct him to
a source. He hadn’t even reached the door when it burst open and a man came tumbling out.

“Please!” The man shouted, scrambling madly to his feet. He was fairly tall, but thin as a rail and
dressed in little more than rags. “I’ll- I’ll pay ya back! I’ll pay ya back double!”

Two more men walked out of the doorway onto the street, one a large and muscular individual with
light leather armour, most likely a hired guard. The other was a slight man, dressed in a colourful robe,
probably the owner of the store. Deciding that getting in the middle of this dispute would be of no help
to him at all, the Doctor turned around to avoid it.

“For the last time, get the hell away from my shop,” The smaller man snarled, “You’re driving away
potential customers!”

“Pl-please Sir, I’ll get the money. Jus’ one bottle of medicine, please Sir!” Cried the first man, falling
back to his knees to beg.

“Good gods man, I have no medicine for your made up disease. You street rats are as bad as demis.
Now get lost, I have paying customers waiting! Go on, off with you before I have Gruno teach you
some manners.” With that said the store owner spun around to head back into his shop.

“No Sir, please!” The poor man screamed, flinging himself to his belly and clutching at the hem of the
store owner’s robe. “Me lad is only five sir! Please ya must help him!”

The Doctor had been walking back to the main street, hopeful he might find a herb stall nearby, yet at
the poor man’s shouted words he found himself spinning around.

“Hohoho,” The voice from his shoulder laughed, “You still won’t let it go? How pathetic...”

“Shut it,” The Doctor growled, finally acknowledging his non-existent companion with a slightly unusual,
high-pitched voice. He began striding back towards the commotion.

Not noticing the approaching observer, the store owner knocked away the poor man’s hands in disgust
while the bodyguard kicked him in the gut. Leaving him lying there, they both returned to the
apothecary.

“Dammit…” The man moaned, clutching his stomach with tears in his eyes. He rolled onto his back to
stare at the sky, only to lay eyes on a masked, beaked face peering down at him.

Stifling a cry of terror, he bolted up into a sitting position and stammered at the stranger, “W-w-what do
y-ya want!?”

The Doctor stared at him for a second, before calmly commanding, “Take me to your son.”

***

Searching through the markets had already taken most the day, so it was late in the afternoon by the
time the man led the Doctor to his house. Not that it could really be called such. Even the word ‘shack’
would slightly glorify the unstable structure before them. The patchwork wooden door barely covered
the entry way and only a single window adorned the small building. The window of course having no
shutters, just a ragged sheet of cloth to be hung up when the days light vanished.

The insides were no better, the entire home consisting of merely two rooms. A large communal area
took up most of the space, with an low empty doorway to one side that presumably led to a sleeping
area. The main room was fairly sparse; a few mats lay scattered upon the bare earthen floor around
the central fire, upon which sat a small bubbling pot. A few crates sat at the sides of the room filled
with various items.

“It-It’s no’much Sir, but please make yerself comfortable.” The poor man said, dusting off a mat.

“Just take me to the patient.” The Doctor replied, barely sparing a glance at the accommodation, “And
don’t call me sir.”

“Of course Si- Um, what would ya like me to call ya?”

“‘Doctor’ will do.”

As the two men quickly moved to the sleeping quarters, ducking under the door-frame, a feminine
voice called out to them.

“Mikhail, are you back? Did you get the medicine?” Asked the woman. She was knelt down beside a
straw bed upon which rested a sleeping child. She turned her head to her husband and fell back onto
her rear in fright as she caught sight of the black cloaked stranger behind him.

The poor man rushed to his wife as she collapsed. “Don’t worry dear, it’s a doctor! He’s come to help
us!”

Horror being quickly vanquished by hope for her child, the woman shot back up, “Thank you so much
your-”

“Enough, just tell me how the boy is.” The Doctor interrupted, his high voice at odds with his
commandeering tone.

“He’s- He’s bin’ like this for days doctor.” Mikhail said. “He jus’ wouldn’t wake up one mornin’. No
temperature or nuffin’. The other docs’ just said I’m lyin’, but it’s true!”

The Doctor pushed passed the man and his wife, kneeling down beside the bed to examine his
sleeping patient. The boy was small for his age, and bone thin like his parents. Despite the many
differences, another image from the Doctor’s memory covered that of the boy’s. Another young child
lying in bed. Motionless.

Banishing the thought from his mind, the Doctor focused his attention on the task at hand. The boy’s
parents weren’t mistaken; there was no temperature, the pulse was steady, the pupils were normal,
there were no odd swellings or any other physical symptoms. After continuing his checks for another
few minutes he’d come to the sure conclusion that there was nothing wrong with the child. Medically.

“Tell me, what had your son been doing the day before he fell into this state?” The doctor inquired.

“We-well it was jus’ like any other day; he’d gone out on his own to play and came back in the evenin’
for dinner.” The father nervously replied.

“Did he speak about anything, or perhaps anyone unusual?”

“Nah doctor, t-there’s always odd folk out.”

The Doctor leant back, giving the child one last once over, before turning his neck for the parents to
see. Upon the back of the neck two small, dark semi-moon shaped marks could just barely be seen.  
“He’s not ill. He’s cursed.”

“C-cursed?!” The father spluttered, “Who’d do a thing like tha’ ta me lad?!”

“I would presume he’s just unlucky.”

While put off by the dull tone with which the diagnosis was given, the father quickly moved to the main
question. “Can ya heal him?!”

“Of course,” The Doctor replied, standing up. “A man of my position must be able to heal all afflictions.”

Ignoring the excess of praise and pleading of the parents, the Doctor reached into his cloak and began
to rifle through the bags beneath. Eventually he pulled out a handful of small candles and a piece of
chalk, along with what appeared to be a tooth. Without a word to his confused audience he walked
straight past them back into the main room, and began outlining a shape on the floor.

“Wha- What are ya doing doctor?” The father asked as he followed him in.

“Preparing to dispel the curse.” The Doctor replied, not sparing another word of explanation. Leaving
the bewildered man to one side he carefully arranged the candles around a circle drawn on the floor,
complex patterns and runes running through it. Lighting each of the candles the Doctor finally turned
to the father. “Bring your son, quickly.”

The voice from his shoulder chuckled as the father hurried back to the other room. “You seem
confident, are you sure it’s going to go so fantastically? Seeing as you failed with me? It was a pretty
similar curse as well…”

The Doctor clenched his hands into fists, and silently bowed his head. The image of the child once
again invaded the front of his mind, along with other images of his great failure. But they were all
quickly banished. Replacing them was the determination to save this boy.

He did not have to wait long, the father soon carried the motionless boy into the room with the mother
following behind. Under his instructions the boy was placed in the center of the circle.

“Stay back, and stay silent.” The Doctor ordered. When the parents sat cowed in a corner of the room
he took the tooth and placed in upon the flame of one of the candles. Despite the low intensity of the
flame, the tooth quickly caught fire and burnt up immediately. The chalk circle began to glow a pale
blue and the Doctor placed his hands on a line, closing his eyes in concentration.

After only a brief minute had passed, the blue light faded and the doctor opened his eyes.

“It’s done.”

“W-what, already?” The father timidly asked.

“Yes,” The Doctor calmly replied as he stood, “He will wake up on his own in a few hours.”

“Th-thank you doctor!” The man cried, flinging himself at his cloaked saviour’s feet. As the Doctor
retreated backward his head collided with the low doorway to the other room, knocking his pointed
plague mask loose and sending his hands scrambling to catch it. To his horror it began to fall to the
ground. Yet even as the mask fell, a beak remained attached to his face.

The man fell back in shock, staring up at the doctor. A black feathered face with a pointed yellow beak
looked back down upon him in trepidation. “De- Demi-Human.” He muttered with horror.

“Monster!” Screeched his wife, “How dare you disguise yourself to sneak into our home!”

Completely forgotten, their son continued to sleep in the dying light of the candles.

The Doctor crouched down to pick up his mask and wordlessly walked towards the door as he
refastened it to his face. Without a glance backwards he sped out onto the street.

Recovering at the same time the man and his wife both leapt to their feet and hurried after. The Doctor
finally turned to them as they exited the house. The mother’s face was dyed red in rage and disgust,
while the father’s was still white from shock and confusion. Yet despite this he had enough sense of
self to toss a handful of copper coins over, then pull his wife back into their home.

“Well,” The voice from the Doctors shoulder chirped. “That went better than usual.”

This is a piece I wrote for a critique group I recently joined, special thanks to Diggpen, Errorwrites and
CatastrophicReEntry