#which one of you was a competent and may I say excelling doctor at fifteen?

[mike-milkyway]

The day people start treating Chopper his age the world will become a better place.

[timeagainreviews]

Those are excellent nose hairs

Hello friends! It's been a long weekend for yours truly, as I was in Nottingham for a convention. My hooves are very tired. This review is going up a bit later than I would like as the hotel I was staying at's TV's volume only went up to fifteen, which made it hard for me to watch the episode properly. Now that I'm home and have watched the episode with the sound full blast, I can give it a proper review.

When we last left the Doctor and her crew, they were suspended in space. Of course, none of us were actually worried, after all, they showed the shot of them being picked up in the series trailer! Also, come on, they're not gonna kill our friends. In true Doctor Who fashion, the cliffhanger was resolved in seconds. Graham and Ryan find themselves aboard a spaceship with a standoffish captain named Angstrom. She doesn't trust them, despite saving their lives. Yaz awakens aboard a different ship in a sort of stasis capsule to the sound of the Doctor and the ship's captain Epzo bickering. Neither one of them can agree on the best way to crash-land Epzo's ship- "Cerebos."

Upon landing on the planet, Ryan, Graham, and Angstrom begin walking toward a still unknown destination. From above comes Cerebos, like a comet falling from the sky, directly at them. Having never seen a science fiction movie, the three of them run in the direction of the ship's trajectory, as opposed to, you know, left or right. The ship skids through a ravine and it's not until the Doctor yells "Brakes!" does the ship stop, due to previously unseen wheels.

Happy to see each other alive, the Doctor and her new friends take a moment to appreciate the fact that they're on their first alien planet. They also learn that Epzo and Angstrom are familiar with one another as competitors. Suddenly, an alarm sounds, beckoning them toward a mysterious destination, which turns out to be a tent in the middle of a desert where the hologram of a callous wealthy man named Ilin sits like a king. Opulence drips from him despite his shabby digs.

We learn that Ilin is the facilitator of the last "Rally of the 12 Galaxies," or as the Doctor put it, "Paris-Dakar in space.” The prize is an exorbitant amount of money, enough to set the winner for life. Out of 4,000 entrants, Epzo and Angstrom are the only two left. The name of the planet on which everyone has found themselves is most closely translated to "Desolation," and it's the final leg of the race.

The racers final task is to navigate Desolation, a planet "made cruel," toward the titular "Ghost Monument." The Doctor being who she is, asks to know the appearance of the Ghost Monument. Ilin, annoyed by the request, reluctantly presents a holographic image of the monument. The Ghost Monument, much to the Doctor's delight, is none other than her TARDIS, which has been phasing into existence every 1000 cycles. Due to the nature of the time machine, it appears to have been doing so for a very long time. It's a moment in the episode that feels genuinely gratifying, as the pieces for our new Doctor are beginning to fall into place.

Ilin and his tent disappear instantly, leaving everyone at the mercy of this cruel planet. Strewn about are what looks like the remnants of a society. Structures are tangled with strange gauzy strips of fabric. Buildings are in ruin. The Doctor can't make heads or tails what happened to this civilisation. The water is full of carnivorous bacteria, the air is poison, and there are sniper robots. In a scene that evoked strong "Keys of Marinus," vibes, they must travel across a deadly body of water, aboard an abandoned boat.

In these moments, we're given a further glimpse into the motivations of both Epzo and Angstrom. Angstrom wants to win the race so she can save what's left of her family from tyranny, while Epzo is simply a very lonely man with a painful past ripped straight out of the movie Wetlands (of all places). On the other hand, we don't get much more of a glimpse into the Doctor's new companions. We learn that Yaz's family is a bit irritating, and incomplete, as she doesn't mention a mother. Ryan and Graham are still basically where we left off- Ryan won't call Graham granddad, and Graham still doesn't know how to reach him. Ryan still struggles with ladder-related dyspraxia, but it seems to disappear when he takes out a group of sniper bots with one of their own weapons. There seems to be a sort of fluctuation in characterisation present in this, and last week's scripts.

The Doctor is presented in a way that is meant to illustrate not only her competence but also her philosophy. This is where Chris Chibnall's writing has continually stuck in my craw. As with last week, where the Doctor denounced knives, despite having travelled with two knife-wielding companions in the past, she goes on about guns once more. We all know the Doctor is against guns, but why is it not okay to kill lifeless sniper robots with a gun, but okay to kill all of them with an electromagnetic pulse? The Doctor does these kinds of things all the time, but Chibnall has brought our attention to it.

The Doctor helps the racers and her friends through what looks like a dilapidated parking garage filled with sniper bots into an underground network of tunnels and chambers. While underground, the Doctor learns that our baddies from last week, the Stenza, had forced the scientists of the world above to create weapons of death to the point that it killed their planet. We also learn that both Graham in Angstrom lost their wives to the Stenza.

After the race is over, only the Doctor and her new friends remain, stuck on the surface of Desolation. The Doctor is at one of her lowest points, as even she is beginning to doubt herself. In a very sweet show of camaraderie, Yaz, Ryan, and Graham reinforce their belief in the Doctor. It is at this moment when a glimmer of hope is heard in a familiar sound. Last week I voiced my concern that the Doctor might have to "earn," her TARDIS back. Much to my relief, this was not the case. Evidently, it was a case that the TARDIS saw the Doctor was now a woman, and her whole “bachelor pad,” with candle wax dribble and books on the stairs was suddenly unsuitable. “Out you go, while I spruce up!” And I’m glad for it. Not only would a Doctor without her TARDIS story have been tedious, it would have also been a rather incomplete feeling series. With a new Doctor, it's good to have a bit of the familiar around, even if it looks a bit different!

In a line that is probably now my new sexuality, the Doctor pleads with the TARDIS and says "Come to daddy... er mummy." Our trusty blue box finally manages to materialise, and like something out of a Lassie movie, or even a love story, the Doctor runs to it. It's a truly beautiful moment that left me in tears. In my review for "An Unearthly Child," I talked about the first TARDIS reveal. It's seldom, however, that we get to see the Doctor have the same reaction to seeing the inside of her TARDIS, which is why this one is so great. Having been apart from what is possibly her oldest friend, she gets to rediscover her new interior alongside her companions. And like that, the show feels like it can truly move forward.

Now then, let’s talk about what worked, and what didn't. First of all, how about that introduction? Yet another one of my fears was that Doctor Who had gone the way of many modern television series, and dumped the intro, which would have been a crime! Thankfully, this was not an issue. I mentioned earlier the "Keys to Marinus vibe," I got from this episode. That intro is pure Hartnell era, through and through. After getting a better listen to Segun Akinola's theme tune, I must say I like it. Though I feel that some of the effects placed upon the sound seem to cancel out certain notes. While it lacks the high energy of some of the previous themes of the "new Who" era, it gains a level of creepiness and danger we've not seen since the 70's.

The story itself is pretty simple, but that's not any kind of judgement on my behalf. Simple can be a welcome break after Moffat's long-winded, and often unfulfilling story arcs. Though the bit about "The Timeless Child," was so Easter eggy, that I thought Moffat may have snuck into the writing room with a Chris Chibnall mask and monkeyed with the script. I'll be honest, I have zero interest in that storyline. It's called Doctor Who, not Doctor Who was Once a Little Kid Known as the Timeless Child. IDGAF.

One of the interesting elements of these past two episodes has been Chibnall's characterisation of the Doctor. In some ways, it's evident how well he knows the character. Simply in the manner by which the Doctor uses the sonic screwdriver, do we see her character come out. The sonic is often criticised as a plot-convenient deus ex machina, but in many ways, it is the Doctor condensed into an object. It fixes things and opens the doors to new possibilities. The Doctor tries to teach her companions her philosophy, not with weapons, but with hope.

I said earlier how Chibnall has also, a somewhat muddied philosophy of the Doctor. His sophisticated ideas, don't really stand up to their own scrutiny. When the Doctor and her companions have their backs against the wall, it's suddenly ok to destroy the Remnants (killer strips of fabric now animated under the night sky), with a blaze of fire. What was different between these and the sniper robots? The Remnants could actually speak, yet it's less ok to shoot the mindless robots because...guns? These aren't massive sins, but they are worrisome. As I've said, Chris Chibnall is the one element of the new series that has worried me. Even his one-off jokes can serve as tiny red flags.

In the previous episode, we learn that the Doctor has empty pockets, something that had come up more than once in "The Woman Who Fell to Earth." However, in this episode, it turns out that she has filled her pockets. It would make sense if the object she pulls out of her coat were merely a simple pair of sunglasses. But these weren't just any sunglasses, these once belonged to either Pythagoras or Audrey Hepburn. Which is fine, it's cute, right? But where did they come from? Her coat from her days as a white haired Scotsman was empty, and her new coat came from a charity shop. With no TARDIS, how does she get a pair of sunglasses from one of two dead people? Perhaps it's as River says- the Doctor lies. Or perhaps Chibnall just wanted a cute joke. Either way, Graham looks fabulous in those shades.

Evidently, Chris Chibnall's true talent lies in being able to recognise talent. He's found a wonderful group of actors and directors. Jodie Whittaker is a genius pick for the Doctor. Segun Akinola is brilliant in his musical direction. Even his vision for what the series should look like is inspired. The retro vibe suits not only the Thirteenth Doctor but also the concept of the first female Doctor. Something I had hoped they wouldn't ignore. While some of the cinematography has been frustrating, with close-ups cropping off 20% of actor's faces, and points of focus not always being properly framed, it's also kinetic and gorgeous. The new TARDIS control room is beautiful. I'm hoping the little spinning crystal TARDIS serves a function of some sort, as well as the hourglass, which was perplexing in its function (as well the TARDIS should be). My favourite bit was the little custard cream biscuit dispenser. Pure cuteness, that.

This episode has been particularly hard to review, as I didn't hate it, not by far. But it was also disjointed and frustrating at points as well. I'm still giving a lot of leeway to everyone involved, as it's early days. Neither Stephen Moffat or Russell T. Davies wrote a homerun within their first two episodes. Chris Chibnall has managed to breathe new life into the series again, which is a feat unto itself. The TARDIS has done herself up, and so has the show. And as the Doctor said, "I really like it."

[shouter-to-dead-parrots]

Not so short story - “Wingman”

“Doctor, your four o'clock is here," came the receptionists voice through the intercom. The man behind the desk closed the file folder, stood up, and stretched.  The last patient of the day, finally, he thought. Deal with this guy and it's off to the Bahamas for a week.

Day after day people discontented with the lot Nature gave them came to him to be made perfect. Tighter faces, larger breasts, a smaller butt.

Alex McNally MD had a good reputation and amassed a considerable fortune remaking the vain and beautiful. Early on he enjoyed the challenge of improving upon beauty, but that had soon lost its appeal. Now he ran a mechanical operation, an assembly line of body parts to be cut and stitched

This particular month was a rough one.  He had reached the point of not caring and having to be careful not to mistreat his patients.  He was good, but not so good that he could afford to be an asshole.  Some plastic surgeons were assholes but were also so skilled that people put up with them.  He was not yet in that category.  

"Send him in," he spoke into the intercom, then rose wearily from the desk to greet his appointment.    Within a few seconds the door opened and in walked the patient.

This is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.  The face and body of a Greek god, with hair the color of sunshine and a skin tone which bespoke of Mediterranean ancestry.

"What can I do for you mister" he looked at the patient information form in front of him. "Merioplios", the man replied.  "It's from an ancient Greek dialect. I come from a very old family."

This small talk continued for another couple of minutes, then the doctor again asked "What can I do for you?"

"I need reconstructive surgery."

“I haven’t done that for some time.”

"Yet you are highly competent and experienced in that area."

"Yes, but it is not my emphasis in this practice.  I specialize in cosmetic surgery."

"Improving on God's work?" the man asked.

He nearly blushed.  That motto had been chosen by his advertising agency.  He didn't think much of it at first, but he had grown to like it and sometimes feel a bit boastful.  He did improve upon what God, or Nature, had given people.

 "A bit of advertising hyperbole, but it does attract patients." he replied.

"Your ads in LA Style do not speak of subtlety or modesty," the man said.  "But on to business.  I have need of some reconstructive surgery and will remunerate you well for the work.  There are some growths on my body that I wish to have removed."

"How large are these growths?"

"Substantial."

McNally felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He felt mild rush of what - anxiety, excitement, fear?   “I will have to see before I can tell you anything.  If you will follow me”, motioning towards the examination room.

McNally expected the man to start disrobing, but instead he just stood there.  The room filled with a soft white glow, temporarily blinding him. When the light subsided, Mr. Merioplios was transformed.

His skin glowed from within. But all that paled in comparison to the wings that sprouted from his back.

Even folded, they dominated the room.  They were covered with delicate feathers.   Each one was a distinctive color but every one of them was absolutely white.

He had heard that the Intuits have a thousand names for snow.  He always thought that a clever saying but indicative of people with too much time on their hands.  Now he understood.   In a few seconds, his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Can you help me?" said the man.

"Help you?" McNally stammered.  “You have wings,” he said and immediately regretted stating the obvious.  “What are you?”

“I am of the body of Cherebum,” the man replied.

“You are … an angel?” The man nodded in assent. The doctor stood transfixed for what seemed an hour, staring blankly. When his voice returned, McNally whispered “May I touch them?"’

"You may do better than that, Doctor" the angel replied.  "I wish you to remove them."

McNally was stunned.  "Remove your wings?  You want me to ... chop them off?"  His voice quavered.

"To remove unwanted growths," the angel replied.

"Are they damaged or diseased?"

"They are in excellent condition, as am I.  My reasons are personal."

An angel was sitting in his exam room asking to have his wings removed.  "They don't cover this in medical school," he thought. "Why do you want your wings off?"

"That is none of your concern", the angel said.  "Suffice it to say that I am willing and able to provide proper compensation for your services."

"I am not an expert in angel wings, but they look perfect. Why are you unsatisfied?” asked McNally.

"Ten minutes ago you were wondering just that about your patients.  You questioned why you have a good business at making perfect people better. You are ashamed of what you do sometimes, taking lots of money from the beautiful to feed their egos and extend their careers.  Part of you longs to return to reconstructing children's clef palates and trying to make burn victims look human again."

McNally was silent.  That is exactly what he had been thinking just before the angel arrived.  How could he know?

"'Improving on God's work', is that not your credo?  Taking what God has made and remaking it to tastes of the customer?  What I want is no different than the facelift you did for that young lady singer last week. You did good work, improving a face that was nearly perfect to begin with.  I ask no more for myself."

"But wings! They are so big! Not like a nose job or tummy tuck. Those are ... adjustments.  I don't do amputations."

"I have full confidence in your skills", the angel said.  

"I don't know anything about your physiology.  I wouldn't know what to cut where.  I can't do it."

"I will give you instructions and provide the necessary instruments."

"But I couldn't... God, they are so ... "

"Perfect?  A work of God that you can't improve on? ��Come now doctor, don't you believe in your own reputation?"

McNally sat silent for what seemed an eternity.  The only sound in the room was that of his breathing.  Breathing, he noticed.  The angel was standing there still, not even breathing.  His curiosity and bewilderment were giving way to fear.

"But wouldn't He be angry with me if I cut off your wings?" asked McNally.

"Him?  You mean God?"

"I guess so. Whoever gave you your wings. Wouldn't He get mad if I destroyed them?"

"'Improving on Gods work'?"

"Stop throwing that at me", McNally snapped.  "It's just an advertising slogan.  I don't mean anything by it."

"But you chose it.  Do you now not mean it?  Have you changed your mind?"

"I'm not sure."

"Mortals rarely are when confronted with the reality their choices lead them to."

"Why do you want your wings removed?"

"Why do your other patients want their noses changed, their breasts enlarged or wrinkles removed? You only ask them if they have insurance coverage and which makeover package they want.  Why I want this is beyond your comprehension.  Beyond any mortals' comprehension.  I assure you that I am capable of providing reasonable compensation, either monetary or metaphysical."

"Why did you come to me?"

"I saw your billboard. I liked your slogan and hoped you would live up to it."

"And if I refuse you?"

"I will go on my way and you will remember nothing of this."

"Maybe that would be for the better," McNally said.

"That will be for you to decide" replied the angel.  

"I've got a 7 o'clock flight to catch.  It must be nearly five by now."

"You have all the time in the world," he said gesturing at McNally’s watch.  The doctor looked at the Rolex on his wrist and saw that the second hand was no longer moving.  He shook his wrist and tapped the crystal "Damn, must have let the battery run down again."

"I assure you your watch is working perfectly. It is time which is in abeyance.  So, you have all the time you need to make a decision."

"Let's step back into my office" McNally said, motioning out of the exam room.  They returned to his office, and he dropped into his chair.

"Would you find me less intimidating if I sat down?" the angel asked.

"That would be more comfortable for me, yes."

"Then I shall have a seat" and planted himself in the overstuffed chair on the opposite side of the desk.

Minutes passed in silence, then the doctor asked “I need to know only one thing of you before I decide.”

"As you wish.”

"I need to know why."

"About what?"

"Why you don’t want your wings."

Meriopolis' eyes narrowed. McNally saw a flash of anger cross the angelic face.  Oh God, I've pissed off an angel, he thought. This could be bad.

"Very well.  I will tell you why I want my wings removed.  I warn you that my story will be disturbing. Some may call it blasphemy.  Do you believe in the soul?"

"I never thought a lot about it."

"Yes, you did.  Between 12 and 13 you spent a lot of time wondering about God and whether you had a soul and if that mattered.  You decided that God did not matter and souls did not exist.  You mother nearly fainted when you told her that you were not going to confirmation."

The angel continued "Some of us were born on the eve of creation.  The first inhabitants of the Universe were the most powerful creatures except for the Creator. Later they created more such, of a lesser standing and power. I am one of those.”

"From the Creation. The Big Bang and all that? Are you fifteen billion years old?"

"Time is very different in my realm and yours.  Suffice it to say that I am much older than Mankind."

"But you appear human."

"You need us to be in your image."

"Or we in yours."

"That is also possible." the angel smiled.

"Life in the higher realm is unlike anything of this existence.  The Universe passed cycles and eons, time had little meaning.  Then came your people and everything changed."

"Changed?  How?"

"The Presence took an interest in your people and sent some of the Host to watch over you.  I was one of them."

"How long ago?" McNally asked.  This was getting weird.  He could not believe what he was hearing but he knew it was all true. What am I getting involved in?

"By your standards, I have been here for five hundred thousand years, give or take a century or two."

The angel stood, walked to the window and stared out as if looking for something well beyond the horizon.   "When your race was a few bands of primitives, the Presence decided that you were destined for greatness. The most trusted and powerful of us was sent to watch you but not interfere.

“For a thousand generations, he did just that.  What he saw broke his heart.  While your race held the spark of greatness, he also saw in you the embers of self-destruction.   The very passions which make humans capable of glory also make you quite capable of horrors.”

He turned from the window, as if he had not found whatever he was looking for. "The angel returned home and petitioned the Presence for permission to help. His plea was presented with an impassioned oratory that we still remember.  We were sure that the Host would agree.  How could He not?  Man needed some help else he would be gone in the blink of His eye, and all that potential would be lost.”

"But He did agree, right?" said McNally.  "We're still here, so we must have had help."

"The Host refused the petition and chastised the angel who delivered it."

"What happened?"

"He fled in anger, renouncing his allegiance to the Host and in defiance he drew a flaming sword and severed his own wings.  In the deep hours of the morning, I can still hear his screams of pain and terror.  He was no longer one of us."

"Did this angel have a name?"

He smiled.  "Your people have called him by many names since that day.  He was called the Lightbringer, herald of the morning star. ... You may know him as Lucifer."

"Wasn't he cast out for the sin of pride - something about loving himself more than he loved God?"

"That is the official story. It sounds better than admitting that one of the heavenly hosts stomped out in anger and told the Almighty to get stuffed."

"Was he punished?"

"Your kind blame him for all the evil of this world and beyond. Being reviled by most and sycophantically worshipped by a few lunatics.  Cast down from the guardian of Mankind to be the pariah of Heaven. Pretty strong punishment, don't you think? Thousands of years of a ruined reputation.

"I was selected to take his place in your world.  I did not feel adequate to the task.  The light bringer was ... is a much better mentor than I."

"Where is he now?"

"Everywhere.  He returned to be unofficial guardian of Humankind, but the dispute with the Almighty embittered him.  He is not the ... man he used to be.  His cause is to help humanity advance by misfortune and challenge.  He believes that all must learn by triumph and failure, peaceful evolution and violent revolution, good ... and evil."

"So, is he the Devil?"

"Yes and No.  The evil Man does comes from your own hearts.   No demons are whispering in your ear, despite what Grandma Hattie told you."

"If I do remove your wings, what happens to you?"

"I don't know.  Maybe I just walk out that door and lose myself in the happy-hour crowd.  Maybe I cease to exist. Maybe nothing happens."

He's lying, McNally thought. He knows damn well that something bad will happen and is looking forward to it.

"What will happen to me?" McNally asked.  "I would damage the body of the Host.  Wouldn't he be mad at me?"

"You said you didn't believe in God."

"I said that I wasn't sure, and when in doubt, I chose the stance of the skeptic.  Until now.  I don't know if I believe your claim to be an angel. But I know what my senses tell me.

"Maybe I am wrong about God. Maybe you are an angel. If what you tell me is true, I'm scared."

Silence held for a few seconds. The angel said "You are scared. Good. Finally, you are asking the right questions."

"But what are the answers?"

"That," said the angel, "remains for you to see."

"Would the ... removal hurt you?"

"More than any mortal could conceive.  My wings are not appendages like your arms and legs, they are the very essence of my being.  Losing a single feather hurts like you breaking your arm."

McNally stared out the window. It was already near sunset and he had a spectacular view to the west as the sun sank into the brown haze that nearly obscured the spires of the downtown skyscrapers.

I can't do it, he thought. He is too perfect.  I would be destroying something holy. I am a corrector of Nature's mistakes. But this is not of Nature.   I cannot do it. McNally turned to face the angel and tell him. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment.  In that instant McNally saw the angels' life.  From a distant moment when his spirit was conjured from the primordial ylem and made into form, through his long eons of waiting and watching, to his time with Man, seeing the parade of history pass by but unable to alter its tragic path. McNally saw a reflection of the heavens, the ebb and flow of life and death, destruction and rebirth.  Most of all he saw exhaustion.  This emissary of the Power of the Universe, was tired and more than anything, wanted his journey to end.

The gaze lasted only an instant, but McNally had in that half-tick of the clock more than he had in his entire life, and maybe in past lives also.

“When I was 10 years old, my best friend Jimmy Kellor was in a car accident.  He lived but was badly burned.  He didn’t want anyone visiting him in the hospital.  I begged to see him, even for a minute.  I had to know he was still Jimmy.  His parents thought it was okay, but said that Jimmy was adamant about not being visited.

“I begged, I cried, I cursed God that my best friend would get hurt.  After Jimmy came home, he never came out, starting being home schooled. For two months I must have called or tried to visit nearly every day and always Jimmy wouldn’t even talk to me. Then I just gave up.

“Rumor was that Jimmy had been burned so badly he didn’t look human.  There were some really gross stories going around school about how he looked.  Then one day when I was home sick, I saw Jimmy and his mother get in their car, off to rehabilitation.  I got one look at his face and wished more than anything that I was a plastic surgeon who could fix his face and bring back my friend.

“His family moved to the other side of town soon after, to be closer to the hospital.  A few months later I overheard my mother telling my dad that she saw Jimmy’s name in the newspaper. It was in the obituaries.  He killed himself, but of course that is never listed as the cause of death.

“I know that my best friend killed himself because he could not stand what he looked like.  I wanted him to be the same Jimmy that I had always known, but he’s not.  I was depressed for weeks.

“So, you decided to become a plastic surgeon in the memory of your dear friend.”  Said the angel, again with a sliver of irony.

“Yes”, McNally laughed.  “As corny as that sounds, that is just what I did. I changed from nearly flunking out of school to honor roll in one term.  I vowed to make it to medical school and become a plastic surgeon. I wanted to be the person who could fix damaged people.”

“But something diverted you from that altruistic path.”

 “Graduating with $120,000 of school loans to repay.  There isn’t much money in rebuilding the faces of burn victims – at least not enough to pay off that debt in anything less than a lifetime.  I became a junior doctor in a cosmetic surgery practice. It was only for a few years to pay my bills and get some experience.

“I found out I had a great skill for face lifts and tummy tucks.  I could do them easily and they paid well, usually in cash so there were no troublesome insurance hassles between the practice and the patients.   Well to do people came in, looked at the catalog, pointed out what they wanted and were sent to my knife.  In five years, I fixed hundreds of nearly perfect people, and had paid off my debts. It was easy money.  I was seduced.

“You forgot about Jimmy and his scarred face” said the angel.

“I … forgot”, replied McNally. “Yes, I forgot why I went to medical school in the first place.  Forgot the desire to make people whole again.  I lived in a world where the nearly perfect wanted to be made better and were willing to pay what it cost.  I was all too willing to take their money and give them their illusion – after all what do they say about a fool and his money?

“You are no fool, Doctor McNally. You are blessed with a great talent, and beneath your professionally detached demeanor, a kind heart.  Though you would not grant yourself that honor.” Replied the angel.

“Fifteen years of helping people lie about their appearance can wear anyone down.  I wouldn’t give this up for anything but I’m so tired of it.”

The angel held out his hand and there appeared something akin to a short sword or very long knife.  It glowed a soft white, which reminded McNally of glacier ice.  An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “I don’t want to touch this thing,” he thought. It looks like death. A bubble of bile surged up his esophagus, and it took considerable effort to force it back down. It left a stale smell in his nostrils.

“This … thing can cut off your wings?” asked McNally.

“It is sufficient for the task,” replied the angel, holding the handle towards McNally. “If you please,” and he spread his wings, filling the room with luminescence.  McNally looked at the implement proffered by the angel. He tried to reach for it but his muscles failed to expedite his desire. He stood frozen there, trapped by the force of his own indecision.

For McNally minutes passed, then he slowly reached out and accepted the instrument from the angels’ hand. It was cold as ice and heavy as a millstone, he was surprised that he could even hold it.

“At your discretion, doctor”, said the angel, who then closed his eyes and assumed a stance of what McNally assumed was prayer.

Time slowed to nothing.  An eternity passed while McNally stood with the strange implement in hand, looking at the wings, finding himself mesmerized in the endless vista of white feathers.  The sword handle froze and burned his hands.  He heard a dissonant chorus in his head, pleading for him to strike and begging him to stay.

After a seeming eternity, McNally said “No. “I cannot do this. I will not do it.”   He offered the sword back to the angel by the handle.

The angel looked up and stared at the blade as if loathe to handle it again.  A look of surprise and disappointment crossed his perfect face, but only for a fleeting moment.

McNally continued “It would have destroyed us both.  You knew that but didn’t tell me. Were you ready to sacrifice me as well as yourself? Doesn’t seem like the behavior I would expect from an angel.”

The angel was silent, holding the sword before him, eyes fixed on the blade of cold fire.

McNally dropped onto the couch, feeling like a marionette whose strings have been severed.  He was exhausted but serene, more than he had been for years.

“I had this patient years ago. I was just out of medical school and working my first job in at a that practice. She was trying to be an actress but her career was going nowhere, so her agent said “Go get a nose job.”   I thought there was nothing wrong with her nose and told her so.  She agreed, but explained that her agent told her that unless she got her nose ‘fixed’, she could not expect the good roles.”

“I tried to talk her out of it, and finally succeeded.  I hoped she would go back to her agent and give him the what-for.  Later I heard that her agent had made an angry phone call to a senior partner of the practice, complaining of my disrespect towards his charge, and a solemn vow to direct as much business away from us as possible.  The senior doctor tore me a new asshole and damn near fired me on the spot. I learned that the patient is always right, even when they aren’t.”

“What of the woman?” asked the angel.

“The senior surgeon did it himself and docked my pay to cover the cost.  I didn’t think her face looked any different, but.  now she gets $20 million per picture. And someone else got the credit for her face.”

“Do you regret turning her down?”

“I regret the shit I got, but no, I don’t regret telling her the truth.  She didn’t need a nose job - I knew it and she knew it. But her feelings didn’t matter.  Logic didn’t matter.  Truth didn’t matter.  But I never said no to a patient again.  Until now.”

“Then you will not honor my request?” said the angel.

“No.” replied McNally.  “I can’t do it.  I don’t know why, but I can’t.”

The angel stared past McNally, eyes focused at something over the horizon.  McNally stood, feeling strangely calm inside.  I should be terrified, he thought. I’ve just pissed off a being of unknown power and dubious attitude.  I could be toast any second now.

“There is hope for you yet, dear doctor.” said the angel.  “There is hope for you yet.”  He turned towards the door.  The sword and his wings vanished.  He once again looked human.  He opened the door, “Good day Doctor McNally”, and headed out the door.

“I have one more question,” called McNally as the angel was about to step through the doorway.  The angel half turned to face him, a wry look upon his face.

“What would have happened to you – and me – if I had removed your wings?  You said you didn’t know.  That’s not true, is it?”

The angel mused for a second, and replied “That would have depended upon you, my friend.  Now I must be going.”  He walked through the door, closing it behind.  McNally heard him say goodbye to the receptionist, and listened as his footsteps left the foyer.  

McNally sat in his chair for a long time, looking at nothing.  The beep of his intercom startled him back into reality.  His receptionist was leaving for the weekend.  Mechanically McNally acknowledged the call, then noticed something on his desk.

There sat a single white feather. McNally picked it up gently, looking at it as if it were some alien artifact dropped from the sky.  As he examined the feather, it appeared to slightly twinkle, just enough to notice if you were careful. Payment, he thought.

Alex McNally MD sat in his chair looking at his angel feather for a long, long time.

[genogenocrazycatman]

Stillwater - Chapter 4

Stillwater [Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net, Mibba]

Characters: Original Female Character, Monkey D. Luffy, Rorona Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Nami, Usopp, Tony Tony Chopper, Nefeltari Vivi

***

"We build as only children know to build

We made a way where there's a will

No slowing down or standing still

Innocent and reckless

"How did we get so old and never notice

How did we gain the world and lose the moment

Rise and fall, the tide surrounds us

And drowns us all"

-Hands Like Houses

***

If it seems like it’s too good to be true, it probably is, which is why despite the jovial atmosphere of the tavern we were in, I was still wary.

It seemed that Whisky Peak had a certain fondness for pirates, greeting us with cheers of celebration when we first arrived. We had barely set foot on solid ground, when we were met by the town’s mayor, who immediately offered up booze, food and smiles. I admittedly hadn’t spent much time in Paradise, immediately, starting my way back home after I had been beaten by my father, but none of the islands I had landed on before had ever been this happy to see pirates, not unless the crew in question was their protectors.

Something was up. I mean they were even fawning over Usopp, going along with his blatantly obvious lies. However, none of the possibilities that I had come up with were too much for the crew to handle, so I kept my mouth shut and plastered a smile on my face, opting to just go to the flow. As far as I could tell, nothing that we had been given had been poisonous yet, so I figured we might as well get our fill, while we could.

“You’ve been nursing that mug for a very long time. Go ahead drink up,” one of the guys sitting at the bar urged.

“Not everyone can drink like you Boyd, especially not a little girl.”

I looked further down the bar at the man, who had spoken. His tone was mocking, patronizing.

I glared at the man. I had little patience for men like him. Over grown gorillas, who liked to pick on those that they perceived to be weaker than them.

“I’m not some little girl,” I snipped.

I was so far from it.

“Uh-oh. You’ve pissed her off,” the original guy, Boyd, said chuckling.

“How old are you?” the second guy asked. “Fifteen? Sixteen? Are you even allowed to drink?”

I cursed my appearance. Usually it worked in my favor. I was plain, which allowed me to blend in, and unassuming, which kept people from seeing me as a threat, but it was a double edged sword. It made people think I was weak and naive.

“I’m nine-h-“ I stopped.

‘Fuck.’

Years at home had spoiled me. I was free to be myself in the safety of my friends and family. I didn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances and false pretenses. For short periods of time, it was fine, but extended periods like this were proving to be exhausting.

“-teen,” I grumbled the latter half of the number.

The pair laughed.

“I can handle my liquor better than anybody else in this bar,” I declared.

“Oh really?” Boyd smirked.

“Really.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that the mayor is about to annoyance toast competition.”

I followed his eyes to the mayor. “We had an excellent grape harvest this year. To celebrate that harvest, our traditional toast competition!”

Everyone cheered.

“Make a toast take a drink. This continues as long as you can hold your liquor. Last one standing is the winner.”

“I’m gonna feel real bad embarrassing you boys like this. After all, you’re about to be drunk under the table by a little girl.”

“Mira, you’re competing too?” Nami asked when I walked over.

“Gotta show these two how it’s done. I thought you weren’t drinking.”

“Weren’t you paying attention? There’s money involved,” Zoro explained.

“Ah.”

“Then let’s begin!” the mayor announced, raising his mug. “To our new friends!”

We went around, people making a toast after toast downing drink after drink. We didn’t start losing people until four.

My two challengers were both in the running still. I could tell that they were feeling it. Guy number two more so than Boyd. I was perfectly fine, but had to keep appearances, so I swayed and stumbled and slurred my words.

Nami and Zoro were both holding their own pretty well too. From the looks of it, they were just getting started.

Nami toasted to money, not surprisingly, and Zoro to becoming the world’s greatest swordsman. That took out guy number two and brought the toasting to Boyd.

“To my victory,” he slurred.

I snorted, finishing off my drink and being handed another, my turn. “To the future king of the pirates,” I said, looking at Luffy, who was downing food faster than the cook could prepare it.

Twelve took out Boyd. He collapsed to the ground.

I looked down and smiled. “I’ve made my point,” I said, setting down my thirteenth, before I had to drink it. “I quit.”

“I can’t believe you’re quitting,” Nami said. “Pansy.”

“Last thing I want, is to have to listen to you bitch, cause I won the prize money.”

“You wouldn’t win,” she called, as I turned.

“That’s what you think,” I shot back.

It was down to her, Zoro and a nun. After the thirteenth mug, it was just Nami and the nun. I didn’t watch, instead, stumbling through the crowd and out the door, but I would hear, Nami’s shouts of victory, once the nun went down.

Luffy was down as well, stomach blown up the largest that I had seen. Sanji I was pretty sure was love drunk surrounded by a crowd of pretty women. If the color on Usopp’s face was anything to go by, he was pretty far gone as well.

I stumbled outside and around the side of the building until I was out of sight of the townspeople. Once I was in the clear, I dropped the drunken act, and climbed up the building until I was on the roof, where I laid and basked in the moonlight.

Eventually the party died out, and the air became still and quiet, the only sounds being that of the ocean lapping on the shore in the distance and the snores coming from the people passed out inside.

A short while after everyone passed out, the quiet was broken by the mayor. I crawled over to the edge of the building to get eyes on him.

Now I could figure up what was with him and this weird town.

Our two strays were there as well, sitting directly underneath me.

“They’ve worn themselves out partying and are fast asleep. Sweet dreams, brave adventurers. My how the cactus rocks gleam under the pale moonlight. Beautiful as ever.”

“If I may say, your poetic skills are beyond compare, Igarappoi- I mean Mr. 8.”

‘Of course,’ I thought dryly. ‘More of the dumb numbers.’

“So where are they?” Wednesday asked.

“They’re falling... Straight to hell.”

I almost wanted to laugh at how dramatic this guy was being. I mean really? Take us to hell? Between that and the gleaming rocks, this guy was starting to sound like my cousin after he had a little too much wine.

The trio was joined by the nun, who removed her habit, revealing a short pink and white checkered dress underneath.

“Damn. My head is killing me. Our guest didn’t have the good taste to pass out gracefully, so I doctored they’re drinks a little, or else they’d be up all night drinking us into oblivion.”

If that was spiked with something, then I hated to think of what they’d been drinking before. Grape juice.

“So tell me was it really necessary to put on this elaborate show for those idiots?” the nun asked. “I get that no one wants to hear me whine, but it’s my duty to point out the amount of food we’ve wasted, when we could’ve just ambushed them at the harbor.”

This was a trap. No surprise there. I was under the assumption that they were after our supplies and treasures. It wasn’t like we were rolling in gold or anything. Nami probably was, but as far as pirate crews go, we were pretty broke.

I wasn’t really sure what the bounty situation was on board. After all the fuss that had been made over Luffy in Logue Town, I figured he had one. Maybe Zoro, but I doubted the others were worth anything. If it was worth the effort that they’d put into this party farce, then Luffy had to have one hell of a bounty.  

“We’re already short on supplies. It’s not like anyone had high hopes for that whale meat or anything.”

Mr.9 puffed up defensively. “Why don’t you go try to kill that damn whale? We tried our best.”

“Both of you calm down. Before you question the validity of my plan, why don’t you take a look at this?”

The mayor, Mr.8, whatever, pulled out a wanted poster. Luffy’s smiling face was printed on the page. I checked the number below it. ‘Thirty-million, before he even made it to the Grand Line.’ That was a pretty respectable number, well worth the effort they’d put in so far.

Too bad it was all going to be for nothing.

The nun and the strays balked at the number. “THIRTY-MILLION BERRIES?!”

“For those morons?’

“Don’t be foolish. Appearances can be deceiving. That goes for-“ the mayor cleared his throat and performed a vocal exercise. “That goes for all of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s no matter. Our prey has been trapped, and that’s news the boss will enjoy.”

“That’s what you think,” I mumbled.

I hadn’t been with the crew for long, and I had only seen them in action once, but that was enough for me to know that these guys didn’t have a chance.

I wasn’t the only one, who had been playing drunk earlier. I could feel Zoro approach that cursed blade of his giving him away.

I glanced back at Zoro. “What? Can’t sleep now, because you were out all day?”

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “This place gave me a bad vibe.”

I nodded. “As it should. They’re going to raid the Merry and cash in on Luffy’s Bounty.”

“So what do we do with them now?” Ms. Monday asked.

I was wondering the same thing about the people below.

“I thought it was something like that. I guess I’ll take care of this, since you guys dealt with all that weather crap earlier.”

“Oh how chivalrous.”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“Kill them?” Mr.9 asked.

This time it was Zoro, who scoffed.

“If they die, the bounty drops thirty percent. The government prefers to hold public executions. Now go. I want them alive.”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. You mind letting my friends sleep? They had a long day and the journey was exhausting, so I’ve been told.”

“Hey Mr.8, Ms. Monday, one of them escaped from the room, when we weren’t looking.”

‘Well well well, if it isn’t Boyd and that other guy.’

“Ugh. He’s right over there.”

“Sneaky wretch, you should’ve stayed asleep with your friends.”

“A good swordsman never makes the mistake of letting his guard down. Plus, I took a nap earlier. Judging by the scowls and cheap disguises, you’re all bounty hunters, whose specialty is robbing drunk pirates, who fall for your hospitality. It’s original. I’ll give you that at least.

“I count a hundred of you scum bags give or take, and I’ll fight all of you. You hear me, Baroque Works?”

It was helpful having a name for the organization. We had a concrete enemy now, someone specific to fight.

Well Zoro had someone to fight.

Everyone down below freaked out.

“How do you know our name?”

“I was in a similar line of work once upon a time. Your company tried to entice me with a job offer. Naturally, I said no. Do the same rules still apply? Employee identities kept secret, cheesy code names, the boss’s identity and whereabouts also a mystery? Baroque Works, the criminal group that faithfully carries out their orders like herded sheep. That’s some secret.”

“This is a surprise. If you know all of our secrets, then we are left with no other choice than to kill you, and another gravestone will be added to the cactus rocks tonight.” The mayor guy chuckled darkly, before issuing the order to kill Zoro.

Before any of them could move, he’d moved, appearing in the midst of their ranks.

I sat up right, so I could watch the show.

“It’s her!” Boyd yelled.

“You have a lot more to worry about than a little girl,” I informed them, pointing out Zoro.

He grinned. The bounty hunters drew their weapons and fired at him, but he was too fast. Instead of hitting him, the bullets flew into their fellow Baroque Works agents.

The mayor was getting frustrated, but even more evident, he was worried. He was beginning to sweat. The muscles in his neck were tense. His eyes were wide and flicking back and forth wildly.

“Incompetent morons, they just shot each other.”

“Yeah and the pirate got away.”

‘Way to state the obvious.’

The mayor turned around to bark out another order to his minions. “Just kill him! He’s only one man.”

Zoro’s blade slid through the idiot’s hair, glinting in the man’s peripheral.

“Ask yourself. Will one grave stone really be enough?”

“There he is!” The bounty hunters aimed their weapons at Zoro and by extension Mr.8.

All semblance of calm and control was out of the widow at this point. He screamed at the men to hold their fire, to keep him from being shot. He pulled out a saxophone of all things and blew into the instrument, causing it to shoot bullets.

Zoro ducked, avoiding them, before vanishing once more.

A few flew up towards me, but I dodged them with ease.

“Your friend isn’t going to make it through this, and once we get him, we’re coming after you,” the mayor said.

“Cause that’s going real well for you right now. You don’t even know where he is.”

He shot at me once more, but I jumped out of the way to another rooftop, down through a window inside. No one as home, seeing as the whole town was hunting Zoro. They ran into the first floor, while I hopped out of a side window on the second and into the adjacent house.  I exited out of the back door of that one, putting some distance between myself and the bounty hunters, before taking to the roof tops once again.

Zoro said he had this, so I was gonna leave it to him. Now if Boyd and his friend ended up in my path, well then maybe I would join in on the fun.

I caught site of the swordsman from my newest perch. He was having himself a grand old time, slicing through the bounty hunters, knocking them off of ladders, cutting holes into the ground for them to fall into.

Ms. Monday swung a ladder at Zoro, which he barely dodged. She slid her brass knuckles onto to her fingers.

“It was a good effort, swordsman, but there is no man, who can best my strength.”

‘Why should he get to have all the fun?’

“What about a woman?” I asked, jumping from my perch. My foot nailed her elbow, the impact, causing her to release Zoro. I wrapped both legs around her neck, and threw myself back, flipping her over, so that I landed on top of her, my legs pinning down her arms. She tried to fight out from underneath me, to push me off, but despite her advantage in terms of actual size, I had more strength. I raised my fist and drove it into her face, knocking her out.

“You still a little groggy from that nap earlier or something? Letting her get the jump on you.”

Boyd and the other guy charged at me from behind. I ducked the wire that they held between them and grabbed them both by the back of the shirt. I grabbed the wire, pulling it from their grasps, slicing my hand in the process, before slamming Boyd into the other, the impact strong enough to toss them both off of the roof.

“I could’ve handled that,” he said.

“’Thank you, Mira.’ ‘Oh you’re welcome, Zoro.’”

There was something about teasing Zoro that was just so much fun. I mean he made it so easy. He left himself wide open. It was even better because he didn’t have an argument for anything that I had said so far.

“Yeah yeah, I told you I got this.”

“Alright then,” I backed off. “Go ahead. You got this.”

Zoro strode over to the edge of the building, gazing down at the Baroque Works members below.

“Is that all you can offer Baroque Works?” he asked. “Cause you’re gonna need to do a lot better than that.”

I sat on the edge of the building.

Zoro carried a cursed blade. Initially, I had thought that that was the source of the dark aura that seemed to radiate from him, and it was, to an extent, but there was something else. There was something coming from within him. It was dark and violent. It was demonic almost.

It wasn’t noticeable earlier, but now it was. That sword of his, despite having sliced through over ninety people, hadn’t been satiated yet. It was still thirsty, begging for blood, and so it seemed was Zoro.

Mr.9 explained Baroque Works’ ranking to us. I think it was supposed to intimidate us, but neither Zoro nor I were impressed.

“I’ve found that fancy titles mean nothing, when it comes to fighting. The strongest wins and that’s that.”

The mayor fired at us with that stupid saxophone of his once more. I shuffled out of the way to the side, while Zoro, jumped up a level.

Mr.9 pursued him, while Wednesday whistled, calling her duck.

I raised a brow. “That’s your trump card? A duck?”

“Are you kidding me? A duck?”

“You get distracted so easily,” Mr.9 said, standing atop a belfry. “How can you hope to follow my acrobatics?” He began back flipping down towards Zoro. “You better prepare for my bloody bats!”

Zoro easily blocked his attack with one of his swords.

“You better be careful not to chip your precious blades.”

Zoro sheathed one of his swords.

At this point, Zoro was just toying with Mr.9, forcing him to go on the defensive and backing him up to the end of the building, which he wasn’t aware of. He attempted another one of his acrobatic moves, but ended up jumping off of the building.

“Is this really the best they can do?”

“There’s better. I’m still here. Are you ready, Mr.Bushido? Now, enjoy my perfume dance.”

Wednesday lifted her arms over her head and swayed back and forth. The fragrance of her perfumes choked Zoro out and brought him to his knees.

“Good boy,” he cooed. “And now, peacock slasher! Now Carue!” she hopped on the duck, and charged at Zoro.

Her weapon was a unique one, wires with a small jewel at the end of it. I had no doubt that they were effective cutting weapons, especially at the speed she was swinging them around.

Too bad the duck wasn’t as effective. He blew right past Zoro, and straight towards me. I quickly got up and pushed off the roof, jumping onto the building across the street. They fell of the building into a pile of junk on the side of the building.

They mayor’s saxophone sounded off, a barrage of bullets aimed at Zoro. Zoro cut a hole in the roof of the building, disappearing into the building below.

Mr.9 jumped out of the pile of debris he had created upon landing. He produced a chain from his bat, using it to tie up Zoro’s arm.

“Watcha gonna do now, tough guy?”

“Kick your ass,” Zoro replied easily.

I snorted.

“Excellent work,” the mayor commended.

“Come on, Mr.8, kill him now. You won’t get away!”

“That’s right, don’t move,” Miss Wednesday said. She had a machete in hand aimed at a still engorged, still sleeping Luffy. “If you even think about doing anything foolish, Mr. Bushido. Your friend here will be paying the price.”

“You idiot. Can’t he at least wake up, when he’s being held hostage?”

Mr.9 cackled with glee.

It had been fun and games up until this point, mostly, because these guys were kind of like gnats, annoying, but essentially harmless. This was different, because Luffy was asleep, oblivious to the danger he was in.

“Foolish is taking a crew’s captain hostage,” I said, standing up.

“Ah ah ah.” She wagged her finger. “Take one step off of that building and your precious captain meets his maker.”

I stayed still. I just had to bide my time

“Well done Ms. Wednesday. It looks like there will be no escape for the swordsman this time, unless he wants his friend to die.”

Mr.8 pulled at the strings of his neck tie, exposing the gun barrels hidden in his curls. “Firing squad ready!”

“What?!” Zoro yelled, caught off guard.

He yanked the strings further, the barrels firing. “Igarappappa!”

Zoro yanked on the chain, pulling Mr.9 with it, putting him between Zoro and the bullets.

Ms.Wednesday was shocked by this, which gave me my opening. I hopped off of the building and knocked the machete from her hand, before hitting her with a kick to the mid section, that sent her flying backwards.

“Duck!” Zoro yelled. I did as he said, hitting the ground.  He threw Mr.9, using him to take out Carue, sending them both into the same crater that I had hurled, Ms. Wednesday.

Mr.8 fired again, but Zoro managed to evade it. He used Luffy as a trampoline, jumping up and slashing at Mr.8, taking him out of commission.

Luffy lifted his head, opening his eyes. “Where am I?” he asked.

I shook my head and chuckled. “Just go back to sleep.”“

“How’d I get outside?”

I didn’t have time to respond, before he was out again.

I looked up Zoro, who was sitting on the roof of the building.

“I got say I’m impressed. Your skill with your blades is amazing, especially wielding a cursed sword. That’s even more impressive.”

“You can feel it too.”  It wasn’t a question, just an observation.

I nodded anyways. “Have you had it long?” I asked.

“Only since Logue Town.”

“It must’ve been there a long time. Its thirst for blood is strong.”

“Must be why it was being so disobedient.”

I looked at the carnage around us. “It’s only a matter of time, before they send some more. We should probably get out of here.”

“Meh, let ‘em. Everyone needs the rest. If they come, then I’ll just have to cut them down.”

Zoro seemed pleased at the prospect.

I shrugged. Based on what I could tell, he was first mate. No one really used titles on the crew save for when it came to Nami and Sanji.

He took a large swig from his bottle.

“Well then, since you have everything under control here, I’m going to head back to the Merry, make sure they didn’t steal or break anything.”

“You should get some rest. You worked just as hard as the other earlier. If you push yourself too much, you’re gonna burn out.”

I nodded at him. He was right. Plus, I was more than ready to go to bed. I had gotten my fill of crappy booze, entertainment and food. Sleep sounded great.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I said, heading towards the Merry. “Good night, Zoro.”

“Night.”

***

Notes:

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