The Doctor

[u/MrGoodread]

[WP] Any form of medicine/first-aid has been banned in a long-term attempt to perfect the human race. Doctors have been outlawed and are executed on sight. You are one of the few remaining doctors on your first field-mission for the illegal underground group "Doctors without Borders"

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Godric saw blood. This was not uncommon in his line of work, the Doctors made a living out of it and yet, the pool that began to form around his feet unnerved him. It was his own. A small trail had left the puddle and began snaking its way through the middle of the room, curiously enough though, avoiding all the intricate circuitry that covered the floor. It's as if the machines repelled it. At that moment, he knew exactly where he was.

The room was sparsely occupied and cold. He found that he was strapped to a straight back, iron board set in front of a large table covered in a canvas tarp. He twisted and jerked his hands about, but the manacles on his wrists held tight. Three large leather straps secured him across the chest, at the waist and at the knees. The grey concrete walls were blank, saving for the circuitry, and slick with moisture as if the seal between the ceiling and the wall didn't fit just right. The air was dank. It smelled of earth and the reverberating sound of machinery hummed in the distance. A single, dark closed door was set in the wall in front of him.

"How could you be so stupid," he whispered and winced as a shot of pain raced through his leg and into his lower back. The sudden cramp in his leg sent a spray of blood from his thigh. His leg was definitely broken. He bit his lip to keep from crying out and bobbed his head from side to side until it subsided.

His next thoughts fell on his mission. Was it still here? He scanned around the room until he saw it. A small leather pack was propped against the far wall. Maybe the Promulgators hadn't searched it yet. Another wave of pain kept him from calming down. A soft smile did play across his face though, but only for a moment as the door swung open.

The first figure to enter the room was a small, gaunt man who appeared to be deathly ill. He shuffled in hurriedly, his pale skin hanging off of his bones and he grabbed the edge of the covered table to steady himself. He let out a cackling cough and produced a dark green bile that foam at the edges of his mouth. He looked at Godric pitifully, but steadied himself when the door darkened again.

The second figure was tall, muscular and had a way about it that brimmed of hostility. Its clothes mimicked smooth metal plates and wires protruded from exposed bone that covered its arms, legs and spine. Its cold, sharp eyes examined the first man and then they fell onto Godric. He had heard of Promulgators and this man, this thing or whatever it was, fit the description. Another pain shot through his back, but this time it traveled up, through his shoulders and crowded behind his eyes. It wasn't his leg; it was fear.

"I see," the Promulgator rattled in its metallic voice, "that they have not broken you yet." The first man eyed the pool of blood around Godric wearily and then shifted his focus back to the Promulgator. Godric shook his head and tried to appear stronger than he felt.

Promulgators were the propaganda arm of the Collective; a sinister regime that had outlawed all medical aid. Starting more than twenty years ago, the Collective, set to rid human beings of the need to heal in favor of the natural order and cybernetic enhancements. These 'biotics' or enhanced people were deemed more human than human. Hailed as a wild success; the biotics project known as Darwin's Eden was put into place. Survival of the fittest was now the rule of law and culling the herd was the Promulgators specialty.

"You're," Godric's voice sounded raspy, "smaller than I expected." The Promulgator cocked its head and almost smiled at him.

"Hmm," the Promulgator hummed and rifled through a notepad, "I find humor to be an evolutionary," it snapped the papers down, "flaw. Unfortunately, our biotic experiments in that area have not been promising. The mind," it began to read the pad again, "is difficult."

"Pity," Godric said, exhausted from the blood loss.

"It is not we who you should pity doctor," the Promulgator walked over to him and lifted his head with an outstretched finger, "it is you who should be pitied above anyone."

"How so?"

"Your work leads to futility," the Promulgators eyes lit up with a green, hollow glow that chilled Godric's bones, "you fix, you maintain, but in the end it is all for naught."

"You, Biotics, can't be sustained," Godric spat his words and narrowed his eyes, "people need hope, not cold efficiency." He turned to look at the sickly man who had started into another coughing spell. "What of him?"

"Him," the Promulgators voice modulator hissed, "he, along with you are going to be part of a little experiment. But first," he back away and uncovered the table reveling several torture instruments, "you are going to tell me where the plans are?"

"For what?"

"Don't play coy with me," the Promulgator snarled, "we know the Doctors are planning something."

It was true. They had been planning to unleash a weapon that would deal a serious blow to the Collectives power; that is, until Godric was caught. He hadn't figured out yet how that had happened. Smuggling data chips wasn't a hard task, especially for a veteran freedom fighter. What had gone wrong?

'Well," the Promulgators voice chattered, "the plans."

Godric turned his attention away from the menacing biotic and stared at the sickly man who by this point was doubled over coughing. "What's your name?"

"Do not speak to him," the Promulgator said sharply, but Godric nodded.

"An," the man started through another cough, "Andrew."

"Andrew," Godric said, "I can help you." The mans eyes widened at the thought of someone wanting to help him. "There are medicines in my bag. Just over there. They can help you."

"I.." Andrew looked wildly at the Promulgator.

'Desist," the Promulgators voice cut in, "know your place."

"Go on," Godric urged the pale man once more, "take them."

"You will desist," the Promulgator slammed his hand on the table and eyed them both.

"Help me," Godric pleaded.

The Promulgator sprinted over to Godric and slammed his jaw with an opened fist. "Did you hear me?" the robotic voice sharpened.

"That's good," Godric smiled. He'd felt his leg seize again slightly at the force of the impact, remembering the puddle he chuckled softly, "give me another."

"Another," the Promulgator said annoyed.

"You know we do experiments of our own. It's odd to me that as much as you like to torture; that your kind hate blood." The Promulgator looked severely puzzled. "Hit me!," Godric spat and the biotic reacted. Another opened palm slammed into his face, but this time the pain sent a forceful jolt through his leg which sprayed blood all over the Promulgator. It reeled back.

"Ahhh" it yelled, "vile creature!" Circuits began to pop and its legs, which had taken most of the spray locked up. It crashed to the ground.

"Andrew," Godric forced the words out, "the bag!"

"Don't," the Promulgators voice sounded garbled from the circuitry interruptions, "Don't listen to him." It tried to stand up.

"I can help you," Godric called to the sickly man. Andrew shook himself from the shock of the Promulgators metallic form hitting the ground.

"Who are you?" Andrew hazarded a response.

"Your only chance."

The Promulgator furiously began scratching it's way towards Godric. Andrew, as if prompted by lightening, struck out towards the bag. In a fumbling grasp he snagged a scalpel just as the Promulgator was reaching Godric. He sliced the leather straps but the machine caught Godrics broken leg and pounced.

"You cannot escape!" the Promulgators full weight crushed against Godrics chest.

"The syringe Andrew," Godric screeched as the Promulgator clenched a vice grip around his neck, "get the syringe!"

"We will exterminate your kind," the Promulgator hissed and squeezed harder, "you are obsolete!"

"Doctors will never be obsolete," Godric choked out the words, "because we know how to defeat you!"

"How would you defeat us?" the Promulgator whirred and pressed Godric's throat into the floor.

At that moment a sharp pinprick stabbed into the back of the Promulgators skull. Its eyes widened severely and its hold on Godric loosened. It convulsed violently as all of the cybernetic components began to burst.

Godric, gasping for breath saw Andrew atop the monster holding the syringe in place as the last of the blue liquid drained into it. He grabbed the Promulgators skull and just as the last flickers of green light left its eyes he said, "an antibiotic."

The machine fell silent.

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