"Fifteen dead. Twenty-seven injured. Sixteen unharmed. In total, fifty-eight of the Afflicted were taken off the streets, and it's all thanks to you and your squadron. Sometimes though, I worry you send yourself too far into danger just for some drugged up lowlives. Just be more careful, alright Detective?"
"I will do my best."
"I'm being serious. You keep this up, and you may be someone we need to cremate next. Don't wanna lose anyone I don't need to, you understand Celeste?"
"I will do my best."
"Sigh... You really are like a broken record..."
Celeste is used to it at this point. Just another day at the precinct, with the commissioner not wanting to lose his special weapon against the Plague. She swears she should feel like she's being used, just like before... but now? Now, it's satisfying to her. Now she can put monsters into their place.
After being released from her shift, she goes about her day like any other. Step outside, pull out a cig, and take a long drag, recollecting all that's come about from her occupation. The sky in New Baltin is just as relaxing as usual, despite the crime and pollution. A gentle breeze of rancid tobacco, the muddied puddles along the potholes in the street, but yet has the most well-maintained buildings she's ever seen. It may be hell, but to a Plague Doctor like her, it's home.
"Only fifty-eight Inflicted taken out" she thought to herself, exhaling out a cloud of smoke, "That's only a couple higher than my worst day. Can't afford to be worse with the Plague stirring around." She tucked her hands loosely into her jacket pockets, making her way down the sidewalk, wondering where the day will take her after a long shift.
It doesn't take long to find trouble in this town. It waits for no one. The sounds of gunshots, alley cats, and sirens are the usual. The aroma of ash, garbage, and the occasional coffee brews along the streets, with citizens just as downtrodden. On the clock, the police would go out and try to bring the peace, but they're severely understaffed for this nonsense, even moreso corrupt in their search for power over the oppressed. The worst of all are the Afflicted: those who take a lethal drug that promises eternal youth, power, and happiness to those who take it. After seeing it firsthand, such a disturbing sight can never be forgotten by even the most psychopathic eyes.
Celeste herself has seen it too often, how much it affects people. Turning their bodies into contorted flesh and distorted, fanged smiles... She's seen what it turns people into. Worse than monsters, it's easy to say they're as if denizens of Hell itself. It's why she fights so hard to rid of it all, one step at a time. Anything, anything at all, to put an end to the Plague forever. Thinking back at what caused her upbringing, or rather her obsession, the Plague Doctor Celeste looks up to the cloudy sky, getting lost in thought.
~•~
"You'll really do anything for a buck won't you, ya freak? God you're so pitiful." scoffed out a blowsy middle aged man, throwing cash and change right on a young girl's face, barely sitting up on the damp cobble floor,
"If that's really how ya roll, come back here tomorrow. The boy's will love ya."
As he left the alley they partaken upon, the girl picked the cash quickly from the floor before it got wet from the rain flowing down, holding it close to her chest with a soullessness surrounding her presence. Her clothes were tattered, barely hanging on to her figure, with just enough of a pocket left to put the paycheck away.
"Anything..." she mumbled to herself, shivering in the cold, "Anything to survive, Celeste... Just awhile longer... and I will be saved."
Her snow white hair and red eyes seemingly glowed in the darkness the building's walls cast down upon her, making the abused girl seem angelic despite her desperation. Shakily standing up, she propped herself against a dumpster, trying to walk with any strength she had left.
"I cannot keep doing this... I will... I will..."
As she stuttered and shook in the cold wet wind, she looked down into the inside of the bin to see a small brown baggie, the label stuck to it reminiscent of the skull of a rat, caked in blood. Grasping for anything to keep her alive, she reached into the dumpster, pulling the bag out and opening it up. It's contents, a thousand tiny red crystals; just as if bloody sugar.
Celeste stared into the bag for a good while, before quickly grabbing it and closing the folds up.
"If all else, and I am to die", she thought with tears forming in her scarlet eyes, "This should hopefully take the pain away..."
~•~
Celeste let out a sigh, placing her gloved hand over her heart; a heart somehow warm in this familiar chilly air.
"It's been six years since then", she thought, taking an extra long puff from the cigarette resting against the corner of her lips. "I wonder how I would be if I didn't take that risk. Probably dead; food for the Afflicted."
Her ruby eyes swirled with mysterious energy. Four pink rings around her white pupil, stretching out across her iris until one hugged against her sclera. They swirled and swirled, growing slightly distorted as she grew to have a pained expression.
"Would I have been better off that way...?"
Celeste's inner dilemma was then interrupted by the feeling of a magical glyph along the top of her left glove, brimming with blue astral light. Looking down at it, she narrowed her eyes to focus, the red vibrancy her iris' were known for quickly glowing blue from the magical link.
"Celeste here." she simply answered.
"Lieutenant Luke calling. I'm sorry for calling you so shortly after your shift. I know how much you enjoy taking out Afflicted, so I reached out to you as fast as I could." a male voice said from the glyph, every word making the sigil glow brighter as it was spoken.
"How many are there? What is their location? How much progress has the Plague taken over their bodies?"
"At least three, five blocks down at the gas station. It seems like the drug has infected thirty-two percent of their bodies roundabout. Be careful, there's civilians in that location. Also... sorry again for having to call you."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Celeste finally had a grin creep from her lips, shaking her head slowly.
"No, not at all. I can take them down soon, and call you back when the mission is complete." she said with a smooth, low tone of voice, feeling excitement bubble in her core. "I expected more of a challenge, from the tone of your voice."
An audible gulp could be heard from the man's voice, followed by a shaken response.
"G-Good luck... White Reaper."
As the magic faded from her glove, Celeste took one last long puff of her cigarette, dropping it down and stomping on it with a sense of vindictive bloodlust.
"Time to purify the Afflicted." she hissed out, walking towards the direction of the gas station in the distance.
. . .
"Oi oi oi!!" shouted out what seemed to be a young man, his body covered in boils and calcitic growths showing even through his clothes. "I said to stop your yammerin'!! If you keep that up, I'll do you all in!!" Shortly after, he began to shoot the ceiling of the station with his handgun, causing an unbearable ringing across the room.
"AGHHH, DIPSHIT!!" cried out an older Afflicted man, covered head to toe with even more grotesque skin deformations than the shooter, gripping his lead pipe tighter from the sound. "Don't go dumping your mag so quickly, you damn kid!! You'll get the police over here!!"
The small handful of customers either hid behind stock shelves, or were sprawled across the ground in fear; one was even shot dead on the ground as an example to the others. The smell of iron was rich from the pool of blood, but not as plentiful as the stench of the Afflicted. A sulfuric aroma was as if biochemical torture just to be around them, causing those pure of the Plague to cry from the intolerable smell.
The third Afflicted man waited outside the front door, fitted in a baggy outfit and smoking a horribly wrapped cigarette.
"Keep watch my ass... There ain't shit out here." he said to himself, puffing out a pink cloud to the sky. "I better get a good cut of this. Too many cars come and go for there to be chump change."
As he glanced around the street, he turned his head to the left just as he began to hear the damp steps of leather boots on the wet concrete sidewalk. Squinting his eyes to get a better look, it's then that it hit him who exactly it was. The worst case scenario... A Plague Doctor.
In a shaken panic, it was hard for him to breathe, quickly scurrying his way towards the glass door and banging on it.
"HEY!!" he shouted out, slamming his hand on the thick glass, "HEY, GUYS!! WE GOT A SITUATION OUT HERE!!"
The older robber let out a growl, pointing the metal pipe he had on him towards the door.
"Go check out what's happening, kid." he demanded with a snarl.
"What?! Hell no, you go look!" the other man squeaked out, shaking his head, "I'm the one with the gun, I should take point here!!"
"Agh, don't back talk me, ya shit! Go out there!!"
A loud metal clang filled the room as the elder bashed it against the gunman, pushing him towards the door. As they looked over at their accomplise outside however, all that could be seen was a red flash of light, before a deafening crash of scarlet flames and shattering glass blinded everyone's senses. The Afflicted robbers flew back from the overwhelming pressure, slamming into the wall behind them, and slid down to the floor showered in glass.
Upon looking back up, all they could see was the screaming man they once had as a lookout, his silhouette breaking apart in what seemed to be pure hellfire, until all that was left was ashes fluttering to the sky. From the flames left behind however, was a new silhouette. One that could walk past the flames, and join those indoors with a sense similar to a hunter.
"So..." the Plague Doctor spoke out, holding her hand out with red fire coiling around her arm, "What are Afflicted like you doing out during the day time? Thought you could skip out on your due time if I'm off the clock?"
The old man finally got a look at her. A piercing chill accompanied his very soul, looking at that familiar face. That snow white hair. Those red eyes that seemed as though from hell itself. His lips curled in hesitancy, before uttering out what could only be defined as infamousy itself.
"The White Reaper..." he gasped out, before gritting his teeth in a crooked smile. "The Whore of the North... The last of the Jotunn, doing whatever it took to survive. Am I right? Celeste?"
She narrowed her eyes, giving the criminal Afflicted a stare that could petrify anyone.
"I remember you from before as well, old man. This time, you're the one who is desperate."
The gunman shook in fear, panicking. All he could muster was "This isn't real!!", over, and over, and over again.
"Answer me." Celeste began, raising her hand towards them with resentment in her eyes. "What are you willing to sacrifice for your life?"
All the Afflicted senior could do is laugh, shakily stand up, and hold up his pipe towards the Plague Doctor.
"We both know you'll never let me live after what I did those years ago, White Reaper. The best I can do is hold on to my pride."
Celeste narrowed her eyes, making the flames fade away from her arm slowly. Instead, she raised them up in front of her, clenching her hands into fists hard enough to crack her knuckles as they folded.
"Then let me have fun ripping that away from you too."
The two of them stared each other down for a moment, before the elder Afflicted lunged toward Celeste, swinging down at her head with haste. The Plague Doctor weaved around the strike like paper in the wind, quickly dishing out a series of strikes across his decrepit torso, making him stagger back into the wall.
Seeing an opening, she lunged forward for a flying right hook, but he just barely ducked beneath it, swiping in retaliation towards her. Just as the pipe made contact however, it began to glow a hot white and red before slowly melting away to the ground.
"You took advantage of me." Celeste hissed out, grabbing a hold on his jacket and lifting him up. "Time and time again. Just because you knew I needed a way to survive. How many did you torture?"
The old man growled, trying to grab on to her arm, but just as he did, it too withered away into a molten glob of heat. The chilling scream sent the other Afflicted into a desperate shock, looking around for anything- anything at all to save himself from the White Reaper.
"It doesn't matter. It never mattered, didn't it? All you cared for was power. To strip those you pitied into nothing. You say you have pride in that?"
Celeste raised her hand, placing it over his chest, and began to squeeze against it. Her fingers dug into him, as if he were an melted cheese, reaching further and further towards the center. The sulfuric smell got more dense, as the Afflicted's body was slowly but surely setting ablaze from the inside out. Just as her hand had reached the core of his being, she clenched her hand into a fist once again, finally making the balloon of a man pop. The room was showered in a mist of ashen blood, as every atom of what made the old man's life was burnt into a crisp.
"To have pride in evil... is to have shame in humanity."
The metallic sounds of clicking finally rang after the explosion, followed by the horrified screams of the last Afflicted. He fired and fired, but no bullets escaped the barrel. Shocked, he slowly lowers the handgun, seeing that the slide was disengaged. Out of ammo.
Celeste looked down at him, pointing at him like a finger gun. Her eyes were cold and dead- emotionless. Seeing his life flash before his eyes, all that escaped him was a gulp, barely able to even mutter a single letter.
"You shouldn't have wasted your shots." is all she could say, before executing him right then and there, letting his body catch flame for all in the gas station to see. "Purification complete."
With that, she turned and made her way out of the station, pulling out a cigarette tries to light it. Click. Click. Click. Until finally, it ignites. Just as she takes a step forward, a voice calls out to her from behind the counter.
"W-Wait!!" the young man called out, being taken aback when Celeste actually looked back at him over her shoulder. Such a cold gaze sent shivers down his spine, making him audibly gulp in fear. Despite it all, he mustered the strength to speak up to her again. "I just wanted to say... T-Thank you! You saved our lives!"
Her eyes widened for just a moment, before she finally grinned silently, waving casually as she stepped out.
"Just live life until you die on your terms. Sorry for the mess."
With that, all that was left was the flames and paste of the once Afflicted, and the survivors of the robbery, whom were watching their savior with still tense eyes. A sense of melancholy filled the air as the stench of the criminal monsters dissipated.
Celeste took a long drag once again of her cigarette, staring up into the sky. One by one, raindrops began to progressively land on her, as one last grin crept upon her face.
"That was the first time..." she thought to herself, shakily sighing. "The first time... I've ever been thanked for anything."
The rain was just what she needed. To wash away the foul blood. To cast aside the atrocious violence, just for a moment. A long sigh escaped her, closing her eyes to bask in the clarity.
"There is a first time for everything, I guess."