Chapter 02

Donovan

I’ve never really been scared of many things in my life. In all actuality if my dad were to figure out that I was scared of something, he would give me a steady reminder of a back hand to the head with his ‘you need to grow up and be a real man’ bullshit. It’s a catchphrase he ever so used between my siblings, except for my sister of course. I found it rather stupid honestly. For him to really beat the fear out of us was just the most idiotic thing he ever did. Although now, I understand what he was trying to do. He was preparing us for the real world. The cold, merciless, and unforgiving reality everyone sadly has to take a hit from somewhere early in their lives. Well, whatever kind of world I just walked into…all of his teachings don’t mean shit.

I tried to scrounge up enough brain cells to speak to this towering monstrosity in front of me, but the garden gnome broke the silence for me.

“I think he pissed himself.” In all honesty, with the situation that I’m in, the little bastard wasn’t far off. Hearing this thing’s voice speak back to the gnome nearly did it. It was commanding, yet gentle; very off key, but politely spoken.

“Now, let’s not make this good man more nervous than he already is. Most of my patients are nervous first go around good sir. Now sir, let’s start your diagnoses.” Patients? So it’s clear many people have strolled by and endured the same horrors as I have. Now that doesn’t really explain what happens to them when they reach this point, and I could only image what was going on in their heads too. The thought of it only worsens the more I think about it.

“Wha-…what the hell is going on? Where am-“ Right there. The sudden motion of his lanky arms and the placement of its index finger on my forehead made it all the more unsettling. This clearly wasn’t the time to freeze again from the sheer shock and fear I’ve put myself in, but this person just seems to have this overwhelming commanding nature that could make any man get down on one knee. Although this couldn’t hold a candle to what the outcome was after. I felt an intense wave flow from the tip of the finger from my head, all the way down towards my feet. It’s like my body was physically being scanned from the inside. I could feel every nerve in my body rattled back and forth from slight pleasure to intense pain; a unifying cycle that lasted all in practically one second. He spoke.

“You have pancreatic cancer.” That was a sentence that completely churned my stomach beyond belief. How in the world could this thing know that I have an illness like that? I’m relatively healthy, aside from the occasional cigarette here and there but that shouldn’t be enough to outright give me cancer. Part of me wants to believe he’s bluffing, yet I know deep down inside this is legit. “Fret not good sir. You can step into my quarters. Oh yes, what was your name? I don’t believe I was told.”

I’m still in shock. “…Donovan. Donovan Pinkerton.” He gently lowers his hand from my head but damn did I keep my attention on it down the corner of my eye. I don’t know what kind of trick this guy will pull out next.

“Please, come in.”

The oddly polite tone is still there, but not enough for me to lower my guard. He slightly shifts his towering body for me to step into his cabin. My over powering curiosity and reluctance to stay in the foggy forest behind me steadily pushed my feet into the door. Once I made that first step in, I felt this tremendous force shower over me. It most certainly wasn’t a pleasant feeling but that all blew over once I saw what made up the inside of his cabin. There was a wooden table with test tubes and other scientific glassware filled with questionable liquids scattered all over. Some had light dense air eroding from the opening as if he just got done mixing whatever the hell he’s been working on. Over next to it was a somewhat smaller table that was clear of anything on top and a strangely well-kept and exquisite chair with a neatly stack pile of newspaper to the right side of the arm rest. It was dark maroon leather with plenty of gold spherical buttons aligned all over. I’ll give him that, he’s got taste.

“Quite an area you got here.” I said; a compliment or two to get on his good side. “Are you some kind of biologist or somethin’?”

“Oh heavens no. I don’t specialize in that kind of sort. I find pleasure in helping the unfortunate with their medical troubles.”

“So…you’re a doctor?”

“No.”

“Right…a person who helps with medical problems isn’t a doctor…makes sense.”

“I’m very aware of your sarcasm Mr. Pinkerton, but what I do far exceeds that of a doctor.” At this point, I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to get back home with all my limbs still attached. Sitting here and listening to this deranged person talking only makes me more anxious.

Before I could make a valiant effort to tell him I’m getting the fuck out of here, the topic of my illness is abruptly brought back up. He seems persistent enough after he walks towards the clearer table. He pulls out his the chair from the opposite side and gestures his hand towards the other chair for me to sit down with him. At this point, I knew if I were to comply it would mean that I’m surely in deep shit with this psycho. So I pulled the chair out and sat down without hesitation. I’m a dead man walking anyways right?

“You said I have pancreatic cancer, right?” Sizing this guy up won’t be easy. I can’t even see any part of his face. Actually, his entire body shows nothing but brown muted leather. It’s hard to tell what ethnicity he even is too. His voice doesn’t give anything away but a highly sophisticated gentleman. This is going be difficult.

“Yes. It’s imperative that you take action of this situation so it won’t grow into a bigger problem in the near future. I can help you.”

“To be honest…I think you’re full of shit.”

“Oh my.”

“How do I know all of this isn’t just a big façade? You talk with poise and ease but you hide your face behind a mask. Deceptive men do that. Deceptive men have ulterior motives.”

“You seem distraught Mr. Pinkerton. It’s understandable though, everything is coming at you all at once. These kinds of feelings erode from my past clients all of the time.” There he goes again with the past clients. It doesn’t make it more comforting that people were sucked into this kind of situation before me. “All of them also signed the contract that was given and was cured of any immediate problem. I am imploring you…to sign this contract and be rid of the hindrance that resides in you.”

When I sat down at this ridged table, I saw nothing on it at first. Now, out of nowhere, a lone piece of paper laid perfectly in front of me. What got me wasn’t the fact that it was just one paper for a contract, but that it suddenly appeared. I didn’t see this guy put his hands on the table to place it…it just showed up. That was my cue.

“You want me to sign a single piece of paper for a contract? Now that seems sketchy.”

“Yes, it certainly raises an eyebrow but it is for your wellbeing.”

“I’m not signing this fucking sheet. Who the hell are you to come out and say I have an illness and to make me sign a random contract? I don’t know anything about you and frankly, you must think I’m some sort of dumbass to even think I would think of doing it. You see, I’m a detective for the CPD and all this shit here fits a certain description of what’s happening all around the city. I don’t know what the hell you’re about, but I’ll be damned if I were to not report all of this.” In a swift motion I push off the table and swung my back towards him. I hastily, but cautiously, stormed for the entrance. It was a moment like this where it was necessary to reach for my gun incase this guy were to make any sudden move. Yet…I didn’t have it. I always leave with it on me just in case for any sudden off-duty task were to emerge, with this is most certainly one of them, but it wasn’t there.

I steadily reached for the door handle while hoping this guy wouldn’t throw a scalpel at the back of my head, until I suddenly froze in place. My body was shaking uncontrollably, and it wasn’t some sort of mystical spell he could have up his sleeve, or sudden collapsing fear…it was pain. Straight raw, piercing and unnerving pain located in my stomach. To grasp the exact feeling of it would be difficult. But judging how fast I fell to my knees while clutching my stomach, it could be a huge indicator.

“Mr. Pinkerton? Is something the matter?”

“Gaaah…wha-the hell!? My stomach…”

“It is exactly how I feared. You’re illness is suddenly accelerating at an alarming rate. You need to sign the paper in order for me to help you.” I only heard so much of what he said because of this tremendous pain, but I could deduct that he wants me to sign that damn paper. At this point, I am. This is beyond the worst feeling I ever had to endure. So writing my name to get rid of this seems like an obvious move.

“Pen! Gimme a damn pen!” At this moment I’m leaning over the table with my chin on the splintered wood, reaching out for anything he can give me. His mask still makes it hard for me to read his intentions. I couldn’t tell if he had the slightest speck of empathy for me, or if it was disgust at how I withered so low to beg for help after degrading and threatening him. My money is on the latter.

He pulled one hand from under the table, still with an elegant posture of one leg over the other, and handed me a very obscure looking pen. The inside of where the ink should be was see-through and hollow. It didn’t look too promising. It makes me wondered how many people before me came here and used up all the ink. Symbolic, yet very unsettling if you put too much thought into it. But right now I don’t have to wonder what happened then, I just need to focus. The pain was so unbearable I clicked the switch on the pen and barely noticed the sharp stinging sensation in the center of my thumb. My eyes quickly locked on to it. Red in-no…blood started to fill in the empty cache. Everything within this damn cabin screams at my senses to get out, yet I stay for some ungodly reason. I glanced back at the psycho with suspicion but he just stared right back at me with confusion. That was an emotion I could definitely read from the slight tilt of his head.

“Is something wrong detective?” Yeah a lot of things were wrong but nothing could sway me away from the pain that persisted in me. I quickly, and sloppily, signed the paper. DONOVAN JAE PINKERTON in big lettering that clearly emphasized my desperation for a cure. He slowly grabbed the paper and stood out from his chair. My gut only sunk more when I saw him hold the paper higher into the air as if he was checking if the signature was fake or real. “Thank you Donovan. Let us get started with your procedure.”

He raised his hands and clapped three times in a very unusual pace. From what I could gather, it was clearly a signal. I’ve worked too long in the field to not pick up on slight attention to detail like that. After a couple seconds, one of the doors opened up. What walked out from it actually surprised me more than I would imagine. It was a woman. Her hair was long and wavy with a very pronounced shade of crimson red that could catch anyone’s eye. The outfit was just as attention grabbing too. It was a tight leathery dress that started low on her chest and ended soon around her legs. It definitely complemented her extreme curvaceous figure, especially with the red and black triangular designs. At first glance, you could mistake her for Harley Quinn from Batman.

Now out of everything I could gather from her in a two second time frame, the most noticeable aspect was her face. She also wore a mask. It was and opaque white with one sharp designed eye on her left and half of a grinning smile that took up the lower right side of the mask. Everything about her seemed more mysterious than the deranged psycho in front of me. Yet, with her steady gaze, she had me in a trance. I couldn’t break my attention from her, so he had to break it for me.

“She is quite the eye catcher isn’t she Donovan? Now, I need you to lay on the stretcher to your right.”

“Stretcher? Has that been there…?” No, it hadn’t. But what I grasped from that sentence wasn’t the short call of demand or the stretcher itself; it was the fact that that he didn’t call me by my surname or a detective. He called me by my first name as if he knows me personally now. That is definitely something I definitely don’t want for him to get so comfortable with. “What happened to the respectable modesty you show so much? Calling me by my first name now?”

“As of now, I may call you whatever I so please.”

Definitely not the response I expected from him. The entire mood of the room shifted gears faster than it needed to, but I’ll worry about that later. Right now the pain is doing a number on me and I need to resolve it fast. I mustered up enough strength to pull myself up the sidebars and plopped myself on the stretcher. The woman grabbed the end of where my head laid and stared down at me. It somehow gave me a slight since of comfort but it still worried me as to what will happen in the room she is pushing into. I looked around the dingy cabin one more time and noticed someone else lingering in here. It was a middle aged Caucasian looking man that appeared to be glued to a wall. It was the most out-of-nowhere and bizarre thing to just pop up around me. The lower half of his body was non-existent while the upper half was facing upwards towards the ceiling. He turned his head in my direction and looked at me with these hollow and vacant eyes. The term ‘dead man walking’ doesn’t do him justice with eyes like that. But what finally broke my spirit was that he moved. That means the poor bastard was unfortunately alive and is clearly stuck in that position for god knows how long. My vision was eventually cut off from the door as I make it into the room. The inside of it was so dimly lit that I couldn’t tell what was what. My anxiety is going into hyper drive now.

“Now Donovan…let us begin.”

Shit.