The Night Doctor

[Kirbo]

I've been joking about doing a dark Ron Paul / KS crossover.
Wrote it last night.

The Night Doctor

The early autumn crackled like splitting celery, snapping dew across Doctor Paul’s black shoes. An air of clean coolness invigorated him as he passed through the gates and crossed the Yamaku campus. At his building, hands full with two coffees, he pressed the door open with his elbow and rounded the hall towards the medical office.
“Good morning.” He said to the Nurse, his only coworker.
"Mornin' Ron." the nurse said.
“Its been a while, so I stopped at the American shop this morning.” Dr. Paul offered him one of the coffees.
“Oh, Dunkin? I guess it’s a real cup of Joe then.” The nurse said. Then he turned back to his computer, accessing student medical records.
Dr Paul sat at his desk, opposite to the nurses, logged onto his computer and sipped his coffee silently. Outside the office door, the hallways gradually quickened until the muted tones of the first period chime settled them again. By then, the sun was over the horizon, visible through the normally-shuttered window panes. The sterile whiteness of the office was gently tinted by the colors of dawn and fall.
In felt like minutes before the students first period ended. Dr. Paul had barely finished clearing his email inbox. A gentle knock on the office door made him give up and close the desktop client.
“I’m not feeling very well.” The student said. She was a freshman and spoke like a confession. Skeptical, Dr. Paul directed her to an infirmary bed.
As she passed, the odor of her back gently coasted into the doctor's nose. His toes curled in excitement-Type O, but a unique flavor of it- but he couldn't let loose now. Slowly, he exhaled the deepest breath he couldn't remember taking.
Dr. Paul downed the bottom of his cold coffee, sending a bitter shudder through his whole body. He realized his limbs were completely clenched.He had not an attack this bad in months. perhaps it was the caffeine.
Sweating now, shaking slightly, he asked the nurse to tend to her. The doctor entered the office's restroom to wash his tired face.
"She has a slight fever and was asleep in minutes." The nurse told him when he returned to his desk. "I'll give her some tylenol when she wakes up." The shared office fell silent again.


That night he found the new smell elsewhere. Salty but mild, faintly like blood and even less of sweetness, but clearly a combination of the two. Dr. Pauls neck stuck out and twisted frantically. The smell of Autumn was thick, but the coolness sharpened his senses. He knew quickly which direction they came from.
Though that would have to wait until another night. Scavenging all his free will, the doctor pulled his fingers from the branches. The drop was sudden but almost seventy feet down, his lanky figure absorbed the impact with the grace of a cat. With a gentle creek of old bones, he dusted his suit and tie. And wiped the sap from his palms onto a red handkerchief.
Tonight was a bad night to hunt so the Doctor stretched his legs and followed the trail back towards his house. Under the yellow moon, his stomach rumble echoed through the woods.


The Doctor noted the time and wheeled an examination table to the Nurses side of the office. A knock on the door jamb preceded Mutou by a mere moment. It was Dr. Paul’s professional opinion that Moutou-sensei didn’t get nearly enough sleep for his day job. It showed under his eyes and body language.
“First class is out, they’re lining up now.” The teacher said. “You want the first ones?”
Dr. Paul nodded to the nurse, who drew a partition that segregated the office. “Show them in please, Moutou-sensei.”
The door opened and the first two student’s came in.
“Ladies on the left,” Paul said, motioning towards the girl.
“Hai, sensei.” She said. With practiced apathy, she followed him back.
The Doctor pulled her folder quickly. “And how are you doing, miss Akita?” He said.
“Good, sensei.” She sat on the white exam table. Her green skirt was accented by the cold blue bands on her shoes. Akita could be athletic, but hadn’t adapted to her prosthetic as well as others.
“Has your leg given you any trouble?” Dr. Paul said. He laid the folder down and lifted her prosthetic leg from the heel, swinging it up to be parallel with the table.
“It gets sore if I walk too much. But it’s not normally.” She tilted her chin with pride. “I’ve lost weight too.”
“Well, that is good to hear. So you’ve been wearing your new foot for... a year now. Do you still have trouble with stairs?” The doctor let the plastic limb swing back down and moved to her real one. This one wriggled in his hands, as any living limb would.
“Not really” she said. “I gave up. Now I just throw myself down them”
He laughed and they continued with the exam. Blood type B, clearly. Ron’s appetite was getting to him. Even B-type could make his palette itch.
“Now, could you stand up straight for me and let your arms hang loose?” She complied. “Good... Move your shoulders back a little more.”
The girls knees straightened, her chin leveled and her chest stuck out as she fixed her posture. The doctor stood in front of her.
“Now, I’m going to pull on you, I want you to try and stand still. Are you ready?” He took her right arm and pulled it down, away from her.Then to the side, and finally, behind her, causing her hips to twist.


Effortlessly, he flung himself forward into the pitch blackness. Catching a branch, he swung to refine his trajectory before launching again towards the next unseen tree. The odor was back, fresh as the night before.
A strange sense in Ron’s face glowed. Even after six years he didn’t understand the feeling. It felt like his face was glowing, a warmth that brought sudden clarity. White vectors appeared in front of him, like somebody was snapping chalk lines down his face. Suddenly, their density bloomed, melding the thin bands into shadows of solid things. Shadows which need no light to cast them.
The warmth grew the closer he got to the odor. At times, it overtook him. Ron’s claws trembled under it’s influence, losing grip on the next branch. He recovered, unnerved, and swung himself around the nearest trunk. A flicker appeared in front of him. Orange and shimmering like water. Ron’s body settled and filled with new energy. The orange flicker wasn’t inside his extra sense, he had seen it with his eyes. It was fire. Around it sat the meat. Tasty ripe red. Sweet and bitter. And two of them type-O.
From the bottom of his toes, gripping the branch, to the tips of his ears, Dr. Paul trembled with temptation. He killed a screech in his watering throat, his xenobe body itching for satisfaction. Three campers sat below, one ignorantly plucking at a guitar. It can wait no longer, he felt. Mesmerizing, the glow shot towards him as he tumbled from above. Can’t stop, he knew. With an arched back, Ron flipped like a spinning cat just before landing on the first one. Kill, he was.
The young man, a high school senior, cracked under the weight. The doctor seized an arm and tore it from his shoulder instantly. Ron lifted it to his maw, teeth breaking through the sides of his gentle features to engulf it whole. Clear strings connected the broken limb with the trunk, like those that hung between lovers just parted. Ron chewed on the rest to his contentment.
Only after Ron returned home, he remembered. Two of them had gotten away.


The Nurse ejected a probe cover from his otoscope, the step can rung, and replaced it from a box in the cupboard. A freshman boy had come in with a leg injury while Dr. Paul was at a faculty meeting.
“Going well?” Ron asked the Nurse, as he entered the office.
“Just fine,” the Nurse said. “How was the meeting?” His eyes stayed on the boy he was examining. Several deep blue blotches stretched across his calf.
“Budget is a little concerning. They’re looking at staff cuts.” Dr. Paul said. He circled around to the only patient in the office. “How’s this one doing?”
“I’m not sure I like the way this part looks.” The nurse said. He motioned to the boys leg. “See this area?”
“Ow ow, let go already.” The boy said. His knee tried to bend against the nurses grip, but the pain grew when he did.
“How did you manage this?” Dr. Paul said. The freshman looked away, embarrassed. “Did you fall down a manhole?”
“No...” He hesitated. “I tripped outside.”
The doctor excused the nurse and continued the examination himself.
Afterwards, he left school early. He had someone at home to attend.


“Shizune, please, have a seat.” Paul-sensei waved her towards the folding exam table. Below the savory skin was very tight meat, still tense from the chase. “Let me help you up.” He lifted the girl from the concrete floor, carried her on his shoulder. She squirmed against the restraints. “Easy now.” the doctor spoke to a deaf audience. “Down you go.” He flopped the girl down, slamming her full weight against the table.
The ones he killed by surprise were always tender by comparison. There was something to be said about a live meal. Her messed blue hair was soaked by a fragrant sweat. It tangled into itself the dirt and leaves he caught her in.
Ron flicked his tongue across her bangs, tasting the supple hair against her skin. She jerked away and her skin cooled to pointed bumps. “...” Shizune’s eyes were burning with hate as alive as her own being.
Suddenly, she collapsed limp, eyes tightly closed. Playing dead, perhaps. It was no use even in the dark room, Ron’s other eyes saw the white lines of a heartbeat, impulses convoluting with the walls, and screaming back from all sides. Ron knew how scared she was. Gently, he slid over it, holding a finger across her belly.
“Hm. Softer than I expected.”
She didn’t respond, so he slid further up, to her chest. Beneath old tired fingers, a little heart spun like a flywheel.
“This little bluebird isn’t going anywhere.” Shizune’s resolve was stronger than Ron guessed. His xenobe blooming, he wanted to force a reaction, perhaps if she lost a finger... He reconsidered and sought a simpler game.
“Well, little blue bird, I know you’re alive. Why don’t you open your eyes?” Sbe persisted. “If you just lay there while I eat you, your parents would be ashamed.” Still nothing.
“Oh? Perhaps she’s already dead. Pity.” He let go of her limbs, drawing away. “If this girls dead, I shan't have the chance to play with her.” The sweat poured faster, filling my nose.
“But still, I think she’s alive. I wonder why.”
Slowly, he brought his hand back to her chest, slicing the fabric with his claw and spread out a wrinkled hand across it.
“A little human, barely through menarche. How would I know if she’s alive?” At this, she jerked, and gave him a confused stare.
“Oh, of course, I know you didn’t start until earlier this year. What’s a little freshman girl to do if she isn’t even a woman yet.” Ron’s mouth descended towards her ear, and his hand pressed harder until she exhaled forcefully into his face. “It’s in your file, obviously. But even if it wasn’t, I could tell.”
Just over the sound of the room, he whispered to her. “You smell wonderful.”


He didn’t want to bring the topic up, but he felt it was inevitable.
“Yes, I’ve known.” The doctor said. “This kind of thing’s been on the table for a while now. Even before you arrived.”
“I’ve heard... I’m just surprised that they decided it this time. Do you know how they plan on replacing you? I mean, the students still need regular primary care.”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t think they’re going to bring in another full time doctor...” Paul Sensei frowned. “They’ve coordinated with the children's hospital, primary care is going to go through them.”
“And emergencies?” The nurse asked.
“The ambulance comes anyway. I can’t do anything in those situations that you can’t. And I’m old...” he smiled at the nurse. “...You’re still young, so you’re better off responding anyway.”
“You’re just going to accept it and leave?”
“Retire, actually. I’m getting old you know.”
The nurse reflected, Dr. Paul’s career had spanned more than twice his.
“But still,” Dr. Paul said. “I’ll miss the children.”

[Guest]

Not enough moleholes

Symphonies De Beethoven No. 5 (II), Transcription For Piano In C Minor by Franz Liszt makes a good soundtrack