Doctor’s Short Story; Soter
The Doctor/Euthymenes, age 25
Doctor Fern, age 28
Khorne, age 15
*~*~*~*
Stepping through the halls of the arena, the Doctor hadn’t actually expected to be away from the infirmary this long. Honestly, he had thought he already had everything he needed for today in the infirmary. He hadn’t realized he was out of something until he’d been reaching for it. He was just lucky enough that while it was necessary, not having it immediately wasn’t going to do anything. That being said, he’d rather have it sooner rather than later.
-
Even more luckily, he’d found what he was looking for rather quickly. The stimulants had ended up being only a five minute walk from the infirmary and he’d found the exact ones he was looking for within two. The perks of organization. Though, he would have to organize them again soon. It looked as though someone else had been through here and mixed some things up. They were simply lucky he didn’t know who they were and that he didn’t really have the time to figure it out. He had something on the table right now, after all. He could wait. He would have it, as much as his skin crawled to do so.
-
So without stalling, he turned and began his way back to the infirmary. The Doctor wasn’t too worried of anything having happened while he was away, not much ever did. Plus, he wasn’t away that long. The low dose of anesthesia and the restraints in place were most likely more than enough to keep Khorne on the table in his absence. After all, the two had been doing a fine job during the procedure already. Though, truth be told, Khorne had been an easier one than most others he was forced to deal with. It didn't put up a fight hardly at all compared to other weapons he’d been forced to deal with in the past.
-
The Doctor pushed into the infirmary, stimulant in one hand and eyes taking in the scene that he had walked into. The table where he’d left Khorne had someone there. Someone on top of it- The Doctor slowly closed the door behind him, making sure it wouldn’t cause any noise.
-
He stepped forward, keeping his feet silent as his other hand found the gun hidden by his white coat. The one on top seemed to be Doctor Fern. Something akin to anger settled, he was touching Khorne. One that the Doctor had already spent so much time on, perfecting it.
-
The gun was raised, the trigger was pulled, and just like that, the soon to be corpse fell off. The Doctor didn’t lower the gun yet, walking over briskly and finishing the idiot off sooner rather than later. Taking a strained, deep breath to return to his regularly calm state, he looked over at Khorne… Its eyes were glossy, dazed over in that same drugged state as before, but aware enough to still hold panic.
-
Setting the stimulant down on a nearby counter, he walked over to the table and began to undo the restraints. The procedure could wait for now. For now, he had to do damage control. Luckily, nothing had seemed to have actually happened. Just enough to frighten Khorne. Which was still enough to make an impression, unfortunately. Especially since it’d been drugged. Though, that may also make damage control easier… This could be used. Loyalty could be gained in multiple ways, after all, and not all of them included being beaten into submission. Into perfection.
-
And this, this seemed to be proven as the last restraint came off and Khorne, aware just enough to be panicked, aware just enough to understand- Ended up reaching out, trying to hug the Doctor, before seeming to think better of the idea and stopping, about to say something- Probably apologize, honestly…
-
The words were never spoken, as he took the moment to allow an embrace. Reasons wouldn’t matter to Khorne, all it would know is that he took the moment to comfort it. And that would keep it loyal, keep it in line. The Doctor could perfect it through a multitude of ways, after all. And this was only one of them. So, he slowly shifted to where he was more so sitting on the table and holding the weapon. If it started crying and apologizing at any point, well, that didn’t matter. And if the Doctor traced the areas of its back where he knew there were scars… Well, that didn’t matter either.
-
No, those things didn’t matter, only the results did. Results that the Doctor could use, could twist and perfect it with. Each tracing just a little harsher than the last, a reminder of where it belonged. Of who had saved it. Each apology was proof of success, proof of submission, and proof of the arena’s ability to perfect it. Of his ability to perfect it. And his silence, used to make sure that he didn’t give it too much comfort. After all, he couldn’t have it thinking it was enough of a person to warrant such comfort and safety and protection. Just enough for it to stay loyal and willing to be perfected. And that was top priority, especially with something like Khorne that had been so much easier to deal with than the other weapons at the arena.
Summer Month: 2 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
