Doomlazer calender wants your booty.
“Going for a nice walk through the old graveyard eh?” The assailant revealed his face to the doctor. It was the rough face of a hardened criminal. A scar ran down along his cheek, beginning near his left ear and ending just short of his upper lip. His teeth were crooked and his breath smelt faintly of alcohol.
“Who…?” Alger scarcely had time to begin his question before he received a vicious head butt from the heavily muscled man.
“I’ll be asking the questions. Mind telling me what you were doing in the graveyard?” Alger had started to open his mouth to answer, but a knee to the solar plexus left him unable to talk or breathe. “Never mind that question. I know full well what you were doing. As you watched the funeral, so I watched you. I knew you’d fall into your old rut sooner or later. Now go ahead, I’ll let you talk awhile.”
A Deal with the Devil
“Who are you, and why do you speak to me like you know who I am?” The doctor struggled a little in the criminals grasp.
“Does the name Watkins mean anything to you, doctor?” On hearing the name the doctor’s struggling intensified.
“You bastard! You followed me all the way here, did you?” A second blow from the brute’s knee, this time to the groin, silenced the doctor once more.
“Now, now, doctor. You must be quiet or you’ll wake the living. Now I’m going to let go of you and we’re going to have a proper conversation. You understand though, that if you try to fight me or try to run it’ll be the end of you.” He released his grip on the doctor.
“You followed me all this way. What do you want from me?”
“See, that’s where you’re mistaken.” The brute waved his index finger back and forth. “It’s not the father that followed you, it’s the son. My name, good sir, is Clyde Watkins. The Sam you mistook me for, my father, is still rotting in the dungeon thanks to you.”
“I did not send your father there, wretch. But if it’s revenge you want, then just finish this quickly.”
“You didn’t send him there? What nonsense! Your testimony against him, skillfully planned to save your own sorry skin, nearly got him hanged!”
“A partner?”
“Yes, my clever doctor. Robbing and swindling folks makes a decent bit of coin, but you doctors are the ones that make real money. My father knew this, so he found a way to get money from doctors. And I, ever the ambitious son, am seeking to follow in his footsteps.”
“Insane would seem a better word to describe it. What makes you think I will take your offer?”
“Oh, I know you’ll take my offer. I know your secret. I could ruin you, just like you ruined my father, just like you should’ve been ruined along with him! Or, if I’m not in the mood for subtle revenge….” He pulled a large knife from his belt. “I’ll just slit your fucking throat from ear to ear. So do we have a deal?”
“You give me no choice. I will accept your services, monster.”
“Monster.”
“We have not yet negotiated a price for these services.”
“And we never will. You’ll pay me what I ask. Do I need to remind you of why one more time?”
“No.” Dr. Alger got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his pants.
“Make haste, doctor. As the good book says, leave the dead to the dead.”
Yes, I am a bemani-style game crack addicted whore. I even sacrificed
lunch to go pick it up. *flies away on a helicopter as the planet
explodes* YOU WIN!
After agonizing deliberations, Dr. Alger decided to perform the grisly acts of theft himself. To some it may have seemed to be the most difficult of the three choices, but to one who understands the criminal mind this would be the most logical choice for one reason. In any crime, the likelihood of getting caught and punished increases dramatically as more people become involved with it. Accomplices, fences, safehouse owners, and getaway drivers can all turn against you for a price. Simply put, a criminal cannot trust another criminal.
There was another reason the doctor decided to do it on his own, a dark secret he carried with him from
So a despondent Alger arrived at
The doctor reached the grave and began his ugly work. No sooner had he done so then a hand grabbed him roughly on the shoulder. He wheeled around and tried to throw a punch at the unknown assailant, but found himself quickly overpowered and slammed into a large headstone, both hands pinned against the cold granite.
An hour later, and the gruesome business was finished. The doctor blew out his lamp, and the other man disappeared into the night. The college returned to its peaceful slumber. The only witnesses to the crime of this night were the moon and a solitary owl, which began its haunting cry a few minutes after the men parted ways.
As he made his way back to his lodgings on the university grounds, a shiver ran through the doctor. It was partly from the unexpected cold, and partly from that man. He hated that man with an icy hatred that made the blood freeze in his veins. The doctor wished there was an alternative to dealing with him, and he cursed the fateful night they first met.
An Unfortunate Meeting
It was a little over 2 years ago, in 1814, when prominent English physician Dr. Ronald Alger immigrated to the
To teach and learn anatomy would seem to be a very easy thing. After all, like any other machine, one simply has to take the body apart to understand how it works. A simple task, really. One thing confounds this task immensely, and that is the deeply held belief by nearly every civilized society on the planet that the human body is sacred. This was the conflict that hindered the progress of anatomy as a science as the 19th century began. Some innovative solutions had been employed, such as using the bodies of condemned prisoners or willing donors. But simply put, there were not enough criminals and donors to fill the demand for specimens. This created a niche for a new breed of criminal: the ghoul.
This conflict is why Dr. Alger was so reluctant to teach his old specialty. He knew that if he was to successfully and faithfully educate students on the workings of the human body, he would have to make one of three choices: turn a blind eye to the ghouls, solicit their services directly, or become one himself.
It was a perfect night: perfectly quiet, perfectly dark. The medical college was perfectly free of activity. Shortly after midnight, an imperfection approached the college with a lantern in one hand, parcel in the other. It was a rather large parcel, slung over the shoulder of the imperfect figure and apparently carried with great difficulty. As this figure drew closer to the building, a second lantern light appeared in a ground floor window. The window light blinked twice. The figure’s lantern answered with three blinks, and its light then went out. Instead of approaching the main entrance, the figure made a circuitous route around the building to the service entrance. Waiting at this entrance was a second person, with a small lamp in one hand. The light revealed the first figure to be a man in his late thirties with a large, athletic build. Even in the dim lamplight one could notice his rough features almost immediately. The second person was a man of about twenty-six. His features were much fairer and nobler, and this combined with the look on his face gave a clear impression that he did not feel comfortable here at this hour. He addressed the first man with a slight shiver in his voice. It was a cold autumn night, and there would likely be a frost.
“So, you have it then, do you?”
“I do, do you have the payment?”
“Certainly. Five dollars, correct?”
“Yes, five it is.” The rough-looking man set down the parcel he had been carrying. It hit the ground with a dull thud. The parcel was about 6 feet long and covered in canvas which was in turn covered with dirt and grass stains. It looked as though it had been dragged as well as carried.
“Be careful..” Before he could finish his criticism he remembered where he was and what time it was, and lowered his voice. He looked at the parcel for a few moments. Then he grabbed one end of the canvas and began to tug at it. “This one’s a heavy one. Would you mind helping me bring it in?”
“For another dollar I will.” The rough-hewn man smiled. His smile was almost entirely evil, the smile of self-satisfaction that betrays the criminal mind.
“You’ll get nothing more from me.” The gentleman resumed his pulling at the canvas. The parcel did not move, but the canvas began to come loose. As it did it revealed the face of a male human corpse, recently deceased. The gentleman’s eyes met the glassy stare of the dead man, and took in the full horror of its contorted grimace. At this he quickly averted his gaze, and began fumbling in his pockets. The gentleman pulled out two coins and threw them onto the ground at the older man’s feet.
“Fine. Take your money, monster. Just get this over with quickly.” Upon seeing the coins and hearing the epithet, the rough-hewn man smiled his evil smile once more. He seemed to feel a perverse sense of pride in being called “monster.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, doctor.” He grabbed the other end of the canvas and began lifting it. The doctor did not join in. “Well aren’t you going to carry your end, doctor?”
“Please, just……just cover it back up first.”
“As you wish.” And the criminal pulled the canvas back over the face of the corpse.
I'm waiting in line for a rave. For shizzle. I expect a quick departure,
and incredible regrets. LETS DO THIS.
Yeah, I'm at acen. Like whoa. I don't fit in at all this is fucking
awesome. More to come!?
