It seemed a bold statement of a home, especially here in the haven of humility. The clinic for Dumont Pharmaceuticals was about as large on the over-side as a two-bedroom house like you'd find in any major town, dome-like, with a large black cross and sickle as its symbol in the center of its doorway. How many had died because of the man who lived here? How many more will die?
"Next."
An old man shuffled out from the office of the doctor, one Alexander Dumont. In his withered hands, distorted by the onset of hideously painful skin ruptures (caused at least in part by the good doctor's care), he carried a small brown bag, which as anyone might know held the medicine samples he'd been given, as well as a not-so-complimentary bill of services rendered. The younger man who had 'treated' him, Alexander Dumont, leaned back in his ornate chair, eyeing the pistol he had built himself, which lay in a display case on his office's wall.
Again he repeated himself: "Next." His nurse, Vash, peeked her head into the office, and with a sigh, answered, "No more. That guy was the last one, sir." Alex threw up his hands in disgust, muttering about the injustice of it all. "For God's sakes," he exclaimed, irritated, "we've been throwing duds for the past three months! Do these fools not realize my genius...? Or are they just afraid of their inevitable deaths? Pitiful insects..."
Nodding, Vash said, "Yes, sir. None recognize your contributions to society and especially to the medical field. I share your pain, as your..."
"As my what?"
"... as your assistant..."
"Bah." Alexander rose to his feet, pushing back his chair and placing both hands upon his desk. "If they won't come to me, then I'll come to them... Vash!!"
"Sir?"
"Prepare the locks and bolts, ready samples for every medicine, and order a carriage. We're going." Though she said nothing, Vash nodded, and with a quick spin, left Alex's sight.
The doctor stepped forward, glancing up to his weapon, and with a sharp word -- "Break." -- the glass case shattered, seemingly by magic. The pistol dropped neatly to the floor; Alexander watched it, as if it were going to move, and with a slight jab of his head, sharply declared, "Return Break." The glass broken by the eduction formula lifted off the ground, whirled about in a spiral, and rearranged itself into a fully-functional case. The edges were seared back onto the hinges, the principles of alchemy, magic, and the sort of twisted logic borne of this man fusing to become a perfect replica of what it was, sans the pistol.
This science of eduction he had created was really quite marvelous, to him. It could fulfill wishes -- within reason. It could destroy, or rebuild -- within reason. It could even animate the inanimate -- within reasonable bounds. Everything in eduction revolved around reasoning, willpower, and the 'drive' that personifies every good scientist. It had no faults, just as he did not. And, being a non-entity would allow him to control its forces with as much acuity as with Vash. Hah.
----
In the meantime, Vash had begun her chores: She assembled her own few possessions, took samples of the various herbs and pills that Dr. Dumont had created and used, and had started the processes for shutting the locks to prevent outsiders from trespassing. She thought nothing of her own feelings, that useless term that had long ago faded from her vocabulary, but instead only of how to please Sir Dumont. When she had meant to say that she, Vash, was the doctor's lover, his words silenced her, and, as was typical, she adjusted by throwing in a different term. He still wasn't pleased.
Vash sighed, fingering one of her senbon idly, reminiscing of the doctor's words: "You are mine, and mine alone. None can or will have you." ; "In this world, there are two types of people: The carnivores and their prey. Don't let yourself become prey, unless you'd rather die by the grasp of this world's cruel hand."
How... romantic. Ooh~.
"Vash."
Starting, the young woman turned, seeing Sir Dumont decked out and ready to go. Shame washed over her, as she knew that she had forgotten to call a carriage. "Well...?" asked Alexander, as he stepped into Vash's room. "Is the carriage waiting, or is it not ready yet?"
"... It... isn't ready yet. The tamer said it would be at least a few minutes..."
"Damned fool. Get him here within ten, or I'll have his head." With that, Alexander turned and left, uncaring as ever, but Vash swooned again at the handsomeness of her master and savior. Resolving to find a carriage-master and, if need be, 'persuade' him to give them service by force, Vash stepped from the building, glancing about the streets to find a carriage; there was none to be found.
This wasn't good. Vash stood helpless in the streets outside the clinic, frantically scanning to find some sort of transportation. The master wouldn't like it if he didn't get his carriage ride... Damn.
(( And that's where someone else will (hopefully) pick up. Anything you might want to try is fine with me. I'm just hoping to see some action... I still need to reply to DN's thread. ))
