The two women weren’t quite prepared for the group that approached them. It was an entire gaggle of nurses of both genders, but they were all keeping their distance. None of them dared to get too close to the man leading the charge. Or maybe it wasn’t their choice, because if any strayed from the pack, it looked like they were pulled back in—a group consensus of ‘look but don’t touch’. And they sure were looking, their eyes glued to the man.
He was a young doctor in a standard lab coat. His clothes were a basic dress-shirt and slacks—nothing really impressive and maybe even a little cheap looking for his profession. Perhaps the humble attire was supposed to be part of his charm. The most important part, though, were the few undone buttons at the top, giving a glimpse of collarbone and his discreet muscular figure.
The man himself was pretty handsome, not as handsome as the rumors made him out to be, but he certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes. His delightful smile and interested gaze likely did most of the heavy lifting for the impression he left on others. His hair was brown and slightly curly—fairly standard, though it was quite lush.
Most intriguing were his eyes. They were a heather color, gray with the slightest tinge of purple. An exceedingly rare eye shade, but it was overshadowed in the days of Fiends.
“Good morning, Shanice,” the doctor initially ignored them and greeted the attendant who’d made the call. “Thank you for always taking such good care of our patients. I know they feel reassured the moment they see your friendly face.” He reached out and gently lifted her hand. Then, he pulled it to his face and gave it the lightest kiss on her fingers.
“Oh, I see you’ve been following the treatment I suggested. Your complexion is already looking so much clearer.”
“Uhuh… yeah…” the woman could barely form a response. She was gone, in a dream, fully smitten and charmed. Shanice didn’t even seem to notice the horde of angry glares from the doctor's entourage.
“Hello there, little one.” The doctor wasted no further time and calmly strode his way over to Phon. “Don’t be afraid. My name is Dr. Farian Graf. I’m going to take care of you. Whatever ails you, I won’t rest until you’re healthy again.” He grabbed Phon’s hand and repeated a similar kiss on her hand.
“Oh my gosh,” one of the nurses cried out. “I know he gives a kiss to all of his patients, but seeing him kiss a small child is just so cute.” The group quickly devolved into nothing but swooning noises for the time being.
Dr. Graf didn’t share their same fluffy mood it seemed. It was something only Phon and Mallea could see from their angle, but for a split-second his eyes looked confused, and then the second after, they turned fierce and almost aggressive. It could be thought of as nothing but a trick of the light, because he was back to his usual charm-exuding self a moment later.
“Excuse me, everyone, but this patient will require further examination,” he declared to all those staring at him. “In private!” he made sure to hammer that part. The doctor quickly ushered the two women away, down another hallway in the opposite direction of his following. Yet they still followed.
“Wait doctor!” one of them called out after Dr. Graf opened the door to a room. “That room is occupied!”
“Don’t worry!” Dr. Graf called back. He slammed the door behind them after he’d basically shoved Mallea and Phon inside, locking the door behind them. After a sigh of relief while leaning against the door for a moment, his eyes turned harsh and suspicious. “So you must be Phon Drazah.”
Phon and Mallea looked at each other, then back to Dr. Graf, then over to the patient in the room. They were asleep, but were more likely in a coma. The beeping machines nearby that were barely keeping them alive seemed to confirm that.
“You’re mistaken if you think that change in appearance can fool me. Even if I didn’t recognize your butler, Mallea Dulip, that hair is a dead giveaway. Though, I had my own way of knowing. Regardless, you’re not sick, so why are you here?”
“What do you mean I’m not sick?!” Phon vehemently protested. “I’ve turned into a Cosdamn baby! How can you say there’s nothing wrong with me?”
“I said what I said. You’d do well not to question a diagnosis from me,” Dr. Graf looked positively offended by their doubt. The corners of his mouth twisted upwards, all semblance of his former charm lost as he bared his teeth in a wicked grin. “I couldn’t be wrong even if I tried, because I’m a Fiend too.”
“Hmm, don’t believe me?” he noticed their questioning stares. “Then how do you explain this?” He grabbed a scalpel nearby and sliced his arm. Heather colored blood that matched his eyes dribbled out for a moment until the wound healed shortly after. “I guess you could say I got lucky. These eyes are pretty boring compared to other Fiends. I didn’t have to alter them at all to keep blending in.”
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“Same with your hair then?” Phon was still suspicious of that part.
“If only I could be so lucky,” Dr. Graf was suddenly so distraught. “Those working here would be so disappointed if they found out. Hmm… maybe I should actually tell them then. But you see, I’m actually bald.” He grabbed his hair with a fist and yoinked it off his head, revealing a shiny, well-polished scalp.
“I actually lost all of my hair in med-school from the stress. It was something I was quite looking forward to when I became a Fiend, since I’d heard that their hair forcibly grew back if shaved. Yet, it never came. The other hair on my body, though, did change color. I’d be happy to show you, if you’d like.”
“Perhaps we should go,” Mallea suggested. “Dealing with someone who’d expose their body to children would be unbecoming for our current circumstances.”
“Oh, relax,” Dr. Graf’s mood swung once again. “It was a joke. I don’t get to make jokes in my normal life. It’d shatter the image they have of me.”
“Yes, hello, can we get back to the part where I’m a Cosdamn child?” Phon was starting to lose her patience. “Can you explain how I’m not sick…? Please, Dr. Graf?” she added a vain attempt at cute courtesy, mocking the squeals of those who stalked him.
“Just call me Farian,” the doctor insisted. “They call me Dr. Graf with cutesy screeches so often that it’s stopped sounding real to me. And it’s obvious. I said that because my Curse told me that you aren’t.”
Farian opened his mouth wide and then his tongue started slithering out. It kept going and going, like a hose unraveling until it was several feet long. “I can taste disease,” he was able to say quite eloquently despite his current oral composition. The tongue then reeled itself back in.
“I don’t kiss all my patients to be suave,” he insisted. “In fact, I find it quite revolting. Do you know how many germs are on the average hand? But, that is the easiest way to pass it off without suspicion. I just need to touch their skin with my tongue and I know everything about them.”
“Well… not quite everything, and sometimes a simple kiss isn’t enough. Some patients require a longer touch or for me to taste a specific area. It all depends what their issue is, but the casual touch will give me place to start. It will also give me a good overview of their current condition and medical history.”
“Take this dreg for example.” Farian walked next to the man and crouched down. He moved his face next to the man’s so that their cheeks were touching, side-to-side. The long tongue returned and it wiggled over to the unconscious man, lapping up his face and slathering it with drool. It was clear this allegedly miracle doctor was actually a freakshow, but that kind of person was usually easier to work with for the Fiends For Hire.
Farian sucked up his tongue once more and then spat on the floor in disgust. “Quite the uncomfortable display, I’m sure, but I can tell you it wasn’t a treat for me either. With that kind of exam, I know everything about this man’s body. I could tell you his blood type, blood pressure, heart rate, allergies, anything you wanted to know.”
“I also know exactly what’s wrong with him, which I’ve actually known for some time—minutes after he was admitted several weeks ago. You could call me bad at my job, but I’m actually the best. I could have treated him and had him as spry as a young man, even in his old age, and out of this hospital within an hour.”
“But if you ask me, any minute longer that this drazsucker of a human being can stay unconscious, the world will thank me for it. He’s a politician you see, one whose policies have hurt many. Always treat the sick and injured, no matter who they are, that was the oath we took. What a load of horsezjik.”
“However… he paid a lot of money to be treated by a genius doctor, so he will be healed. Normally, I don’t charge anything for my services, under the stipulation that it is a case I’m interested in. I only treat the rarest and most unique diseases because I want to learn and advance medicine as much as I can in my lifetime.”
“But, there’s some things that go over my head. Since he paid the right people, or rather his estate did, it’s no longer my choice to treat him. So, I will make him better, but he’ll pay dearly. With money, and with his life.” The sinister smirk returned from before. It had started raining outside the window, and would be the perfect time for an ominous lightning strike, but Cosmos wasn’t in the mood to add dramatic flare.
“Craziest thing about some of my patients. I have a perfect record of treatment. Every single one of my patients has walked out of this hospital in the picture of health. Yet, some don’t last very long. It could be a few days, or maybe a few months or years, but they’ll die of a sudden health issue. Not what they came to be treated for, mind you, since that would only draw undue suspicion and would be a blemish on my record.”
“No, my Curse tells me everything about someone’s body. Maybe they have bad kidneys, high blood pressure, a dormant heart issue, the very beginnings of a cellular disease—things that would be unrecognizable or glossed over during their time here.”
“In this bastard’s case, he has the start of a brain aneurysm. It’s too small currently to be picked up on any of our scans. At its expected rate, he’d probably live a few more decades before it killed him. But not on my watch.”
“His current disease is very treatable but still very unknown in the medical community. I won’t bore you with the details, but I’ve been slow-dripping his recovery instead of just healing him all at once. I lied about what it was, but as long as he shows steady recovery, no one will ask any questions. Speaking of. It’s time for his daily dose.” Farian took out a syringe from his lab coat and injected it directly into the man’s neck.