FicWad

Late night at the Borealis Gig House 2018

The smoke machine kicked out a fair amount around the crowd as the band got into mid swing, a heavy drone of drums, base and a singer who sounded like a wire garrotte had been permanently strung into his throat called out to the crowd for the last song. The Miskatonics weren't a bad band but then again they could hardly put themselves against the greats like Nine-Inch Nails or Godsmack.
The lead singer was dressed in a black leather outfit with buckles and strange silver chains, which had all been covered by a rather flash looking leather trench coat. The drummer was wearing an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt that sported he would rather be spanking the monkey. The lead and rhythm guitarists both sported older rubber tops and leather trouser and the bassist wore a leather suit of red and black.
The bassist was usually found wearing this at night and then during the day, when it came to his main job he would be found wearing a suit and doctors overalls. Doc Bart was a youngish doctor at only 28 and he was still finding his way through life. He had on numerous occasions been called in about long hair but he tied it back and refused to see how it affected his work. He was a class A: organ transplant surgeon and the people surviving would not care about something like that.
Borealis Gig House was a regular haunt for the Miskatonics and Bartholomew was quite well known. They finished the set and began to pack up. Bartholomew was already plastered but not too bothered as he had a three-day break. He planned to enjoy the break and then sober up and go back to work refreshed. One day, he mused; he would be able to afford to take a real break.
The screech of the car tyres woke everyone up straight away and Bartholomew looked out of the window. It was late night and it happened quite often so most people took a cursory glance and returned to their drinks. He spotted what had caused it and made his excuses to escape and investigate. A car had come to a stand still in the middle of the road and two men had got out.
It looked as though they wanted something specific so everyone, including the doctor kept out of it. When he left an hour later, still rather intoxicated, he had already forgotten the incident. He wandered back towards his apartment quite blindly and wasn't even aware of the man from the car behind him as the other kept the engine running. Bartholomew only realised that he was in trouble when he fell to the floor half paralysed.
The doctor felt rather sick and then he heard something like metal on metal before he realised that the anaesthetic gun hadn't fully worked. Rolling over he looked up to see that the man above him in a black suit was pulling out a scalpel and his friend was dragging over an icebox.
It was at that moment he realised what was going on. There was a huge market in organ trading at the moment and some of the doctors who had failed their qualifications were taking a chance and stealing them from living patients. He was partially paralysed but he realised that if he didn't run he wouldn't be seeing another day anyway. Being intoxicated it was likely that he wouldn't get far but the survival instinct is always present and he suddenly understood what they talked about in his lectures and on the streets. The large man in the black coat spotted that it wasn't working with the drugs.
"He's not under! Get him, kill him if you have too." He shouted and the other one pushed the box along the floor before pinning him down.
There was a flash of pain as something hit his side and he felt a warm pool around his stomach. It was shortly after that he felt them pull him to the ground and he began to scream with pain as a barbaric hand reached to his side and the other pulled at him trying to wrench free a kidney. At the same time they were trying to keep him from making any more noise.
It was his death, he knew it, and there was no way he could survive but if he could escape and tell the police before he went maybe he could help others? He heard something in the distance, another screeching of tyres and the grip loosened. He was suddenly able to flail his arms free. There was no sense of pain, just a numb white pain that had filled his senses and rendered him a void.
Somehow, he would never explain it, it was not possible to do; he managed to climb up from the floor and started running towards the road. Instantly sober he stumbled and fell into the road. He prayed, he had never done that before, that God would let him live long enough to tell them his message. He wasn't even aware that he'd ran into the car coming along the road until he hit it.
"Get him awake now or we'll loose him." He could hear something and then he felt another shot to his neck. More painkillers were administered.
"Lucian, please he's dying and he cannot even speak. Look at him." Begged the ghoul beside the large powerful kindred.
Lucian was something that the Doc would never had known about and probably never believed in as a scientist. Lucian was a vampire and had been for nearly 200 years. He had made it his mission in life to eradicate the fiendish exploits of the ripper docs and other black market health trades. If Lucian lost this mangled excuse for a human he would loose the best lead he had for the current target.
"Get him awake. If he can speak I can help him to live." He told him and Lucian looked around. The car was a large black land rover designed for his needs and he was sure no one would see them inside. He slit his wrist with a scalpel ready to ghoul him to stabilise him.
"Lucian, I think they've burst something. It stinks in here." He grumbled and looked at his boss. "Really, he's gone I have to admit it's not favourable but he stinks like he's already shit himself and I am sure that leg won't do anything either. It needs removing."
"You know the leg is the least of the problem." Lucian took a deep breath and tried to smell the already considered corpse. "It smells like they've ruptured his intestines. I agree he's dying but can we get him to tell us anything before he goes?" He shoved his wrist to Bartholomew's throat and the doctor felt a tinny iron taste. He was delirious enough to have to take it.
"Search his pockets my pet." Lucian told the ghoul.
The ghoul was a large man trained as a paramedic in life and perfect for the Tzimisce's needs. He could tell Lucian what he needed to do and fast and Lucian would act on it. Lucian was a stranger looking man, with white hair and brown eyes he had refused to use vicissitude on any living being apart from himself or to heal the afflicted. He had a vision in mind for a real ripper doc, one that could understand him without being too humane about matters. One that could make money from it.
"He's known as Bartholomew Ryans. An organ transplant doctor and he's..." He stopped.
"Two men. Black suits and an icebox. Driving a blue or black car." Bart spluttered through a mouthful of blood. "Left handed and the other is muscle." He gritted his teeth as he fought to stay awake. "Kill me now damn it."
"Lucian!" He tried to stop his master as Lucian lifted him up and forced his wrist to Bart's mouth. He then worked rapidly to knot the stomach back together knowing that the embrace would carry its curse with him as he was now. "Master Lucian, please he's a mess!"
"He's our lead and he can probably do what I need him too. We will arrange what we can now." He said pulling the doctor closer. "Forgive me for what must be done." He told him and bit into his neck to fully drain him and then forced blood to Bart's mouth.
Thirst. Hunger. Rage...
These were the things he remembered most as he awoke to a new existence. Bart looked around and could see that he was in a wheelchair. He was also rather naked and aware of it. The room was black and lonely and a single light in the ceiling gave him the light to look around just enough. He wished it hadn't.
His leg was completely crushed and his side had been sewn up or something but it had strange marks across it. He felt like every muscle was on fire and then he tried to breathe. He panicked then as he realised that he was not breathing and tried to find a pulse.
"Please don't anger or frustrate yourself." Lucian said stepping into the room. He leant towards Bartholomew and rested his hand on his new childes. "It can no longer be found..."