Sergeant Kramer jabbed his left index finger into his forehead. He circled it around forcefully, allowing the pressure to release out in ripples towards his temples. There was a fire behind his eyes, and he could feel his impatience growing. His anger rose higher as his mind wandered from Doctor Bayer’s scientific babbling and landed back in familiar territory – the same place it landed every time one of these cursed, bastard headaches hit him. Headaches he'd suffered from since he was a child, since before The Panic.

He looked down at the bayonet on his lap. His eyes followed the long wicked blade from its point towards the crossguard, adorned with a functional loop. This same loop design could be found on his father’s rifle, which he'd used during an age-old war in the east that he had brought home as a memento. Before Jacob had snuck it from the box in his father’s bedside table and used it to take his first life.

“Bayer!” Jacob snapped.

Doctor Bayer leapt from his skin, his glasses slipping down his nose and dropping towards the floor. He scrambled to catch them like a startled chicken, and Jacob almost forced a smile.

“No science, Bayer, my head won’t take much more. Speak plainly.”

“'No science, Bayer…fix my hand, Bayer…fix my head, Bayer...quickly, Bayer'…never 'how are you Bayer, what do you need Bayer…'”

Jacob threw back his head and delivered his most condescending sigh. “Apologies, Doctor Bayer. Please, can you explain so I can bastard understand how you can help with my bastard headaches?”

“Certainly, Sergeant,” he replied with a pompous bow. “The Croc-aine seems to be less and less effective in dulling them by the day, correct?”

“Correct.”

“You’re building a tolerance, that is all. The trauma of losing your hand and the accompanying stress of your hunt for the Grey Man are amplifying the pain.”

“So give me more or make it stronger,” Jacob snapped, head pulsing, his patience wearing thin.

“Not possible, Sergeant, I’m already giving you more than I dare to. I need the Croc-aine to make Nileodil as per the captain’s request.”

“What’s Nileodil?”

Doctor Bayer waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. “It’s Croc-aine, but infinitely stronger. All will become clear when Captain Brunner arrives.”

“So give me some of that, then! Damn, Bayer, you’re supposed to be the genius. If I'm tolerant to Croc-aine, and you have something infinitely stronger than Croc-aine, give me that shit instead.”

Doctor Bayer snorted, and his beady eyes lit up with genuine humour. He wiped his sweaty brow and sat on the chair next to Jacob. He leaned in, and in a heartbeat, his face descended into madness.

“You don’t want Nileodil, Jacob, oh no no no…Of course, it would cure your headaches. They’d be gone for a while. But the rest of you…would be gone for good. No, Jacob, you stick to the Croc-aine and, dare I say it, deal with the headaches like a man.”

He patted Jacob on the knee. “Now, about the hand, or lack thereof,” he said, as he snatched the bayonet and scurried out of the room.

Moments later, the door squeaked to a close as the doctor reappeared in the room. “As I was saying,” squawked Doctor Bayer, clattering a harness of metal and leather onto a cold silver table, “I can connect it to your arm with this. I had the mechanics fashion it”.

Jacob eyed the contraption, impressed with how light it looked. “Good. Show me,” he replied. He bumped some Croc-aine from the back of his hand, gave his forehead a final squeeze, and looked back up.

Doctor Bayer hurried across the room, pushing his thick spectacles up his large beak as he moved. Jacob saw the sweat on his furrowed brow and dreaded the stale smell of his white coat being in the vicinity of his nose again. Worse now, his headache was subsiding and wouldn’t act as a distraction.

“See these clasps?” Doctor Bayer stuck a bony finger at the sides of the harness. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “Fix it into position and clip them shut. The loops of leather at the elbow and wrist need tightening. It should be solid once it’s done. Might take practice. I’d seek help for a while until you get the knack.”

Jacob nodded as he twisted the bayonet into the connection on the end of the harness. He raised his arm and swung it above his head, enjoying the satisfying whip of the blade slicing through the air.

“Thank you, Doctor. Useful and intimidating.”

Doctor Bayer smiled. “A tad cliché, if you ask me. Tell me, Sergeant, why the bayonet?”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

“This bayonet has more significance to my life than I could ever explain. It was my father’s, and I took my first life with it,” he said, jabbing it towards the ceiling.

“Do tell, Sergeant, who did you dispose of?”

“My father,” he replied with a frown.

The door swung open, and the daunting figure of Captain Brunner stepped into the room. He looked agitated. He hadn’t shaved and his eyes looked bleary. Collar open, tie hanging at an angle, the man was clearly dishevelled.

“Ah Jacob, do not allow me to interrupt what is one of my favourite stories.”

“No, Captain, my apologies. I’ll spare Doctor Bayer the details.”

“I insist, Jacob. Tell Doctor Bayer all about little Jacob’s headache origin story.”

Doctor Bayer wiped his brow with his mucky white sleeve. He took his glasses into his hand and fiddled with the arms. Jacob eyed him, seeking help.

“No need, Captain. I’m sure I can catch up with the sergeant after we’ve discussed –”

“I said fucking tell him, now!” screamed Captain Brunner as he slammed his fist on a workbench. Scalpels and glass vials shuddered and jumped. When he removed his hand, a trickle of blood crept along his wrist and stained the cuff of his shirt.

Jacob swallowed hard. His throat stung and his head twinged. His good hand idly fingered a vial of Croc-aine in his pocket. He felt the flush in his cheeks. The flush of shame.

“When I was a boy, my father would…my father made me do things.”

Captain Brunner smiled. “His daddy fiddled him, Bayer.”

Doctor Bayer looked everywhere in the room, except at Jacob.

“Every time he would, you know…I’d get these headaches. I brought them on myself. The pain distracted me. When I turned sixteen, I snapped.”

“Then what happened to poor Daddy Kramer?” said Captain Brunner.

“He kept souvenirs from his tours in Afghan. Medals, dog tags, empty shell casings, this bayonet. I took it from his safe. When he came to my room that night, I stuck him through the neck.”

Captain Brunner clapped his hands. Blood flicked across his face. Jacob’s eyes locked to the floor. The clapping continued for what felt like an age.

Doctor Bayer’s head glistened under the spotlights. He’d run out of dry sleeve to mop his brow. He moved to speak but changed his mind, wincing as Captain Brunner directed more overzealous clapping at him. It finally subsided, replaced by unbearable tension.

“Captain, if I may, I am ready to explain my new weapon.”

“You may not,” Captain Brunner growled. “Sergeant Kramer. Almost three weeks you’ve been searching for Robin Hood and the Merry Grey Bastard and, correct me if I’m wrong, you have nothing to show for it!”

He slammed the head of his cane onto the metal table. The clang made Doctor Bayer wince as he dove to prevent a glass vial rolling to the floor.

Jacob’s head twinged as he replied, “You are correct, Captain. The surveillance on Town Hall has led to nothing. After two days, I had to pull them off to deal with the riots, which have impeded my progress massively.”

“Oh yes, the riots,” Brunner scoffed. “It seems the city has a hero. Pockets of rebels fight to take hold of the Town Hall district, attacking my guards in the name of the Grey Man. Made a hero out of the murderer of my brother. We’re being overrun!” He spat the words, his face a deep red, looking as though it could burst.

Jacob felt like reminding Captain Brunner that he had publicly executed twelve women at Town Hall, and it was likely that which had sparked the increased rioting. He decided against it.

“Doctor Bayer,” Captain Brunner announced with venom as he swung to the slender man, who almost toppled off his stool.

“Y-y-yes, Captain.”

“Update me on the Nileodil. Bring the sergeant up to speed.”

“Yes, Captain, the Nileodil. Right…Sergeant, Nileodil is a new drug I have manufactured. It's derived from Croc. I’ve added a stimulant during the cooking process…,” he trailed off as he felt Captain Brunner’s eyes burning a hole in his head. “Sorry, simply it’s crack Croc-aine but fused with the most potent Croc. It causes the user to enter violent delirium rather than the pacified state we’re used to seeing with Croc on its own.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Are you mad?”

“There’s a question I've had before,” Doctor Bayer replied with a chuckle. He quickly stifled it into a cough under the hard stare of Captain Brunner. “No, but on a serious note, the effects last an hour. The scum will tear each other apart through the night.”

Jacob felt Captain Brunner’s glare shift across to him as realisation dawned on him. “It’ll speed up the population cull. They’ll kill each other off during the night, and we’ll resume control in the morning. Bayer, you’re not mad. You’re a genius!”

“Very good, Sergeant,” Captain Brunner interjected. “You will oversee the first public trial of the new drug. Doctor Bayer, the weapon, if you will.”

Doctor Bayer jumped up, positively beaming. He scurried over to his desk and clicked open a safe from under it. When his face reappeared, he barely contained his excited grin as he raised a silver canister to the light.

“This is Nileodil, in tear gas form. If used correctly, it should get a large number hooked fast.”

Jacob almost laughed, such was the juvenile excitement and pompous pride inhabiting the doctor’s face.

“You pull the ring out and toss it into a crowd. Everyone affected by the gas will rip each other to shreds, so have a retreat primed and ready.”

Captain Brunner interjected once again. “You will declare Town Hall a rebel base and lead a full assault. The tear gas is to be used on them. This is your final chance, Sergeant. You will see this goes smoothly, or you are done. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” replied Jacob, the ache in his head thundering into life once again.