[Flashback] Apprentice to the Extreme

[Craft]

23rd Summer 508 AV

The sky was dreary and clouds blocked the sun's light. A light sprinkle had begun as Craft made his way closer to the clinic. He was not long in the city, in fact it was little more than three days since his father had seen him off at the city's edge. The Zith man had said little to his son, but he did leave him with a bit of money to pay for an apprenticeship.

Craft sighed, yes he was to learn a skill... Or so his father had told him. It seemed that now he had to look after himself. He was no longer wanted by his "family" or so it is called, and Craft had to find a way to support himself from now on. It was this reason that brought him to the clinic. He had heard rumors of the Doctor's ways, but they did not frighten Craft as one would expect. Secretly he hoped he might learn from this doctor, for he held a fasintion for the workings of the human body.

So, with a slow and steady steps Craft made his way up to the front on the Clinic. Taking a deep breath he lifted a hand and knocked twice on the door, and then waited for an answer.

[Leviathan]

And an answer he received. Craft was not long in waiting before he heard the screams of a woman inside. Screams of terror. Screams of torment. Screams for help. Screams, terrible, horrible screams. These screams were as miserable and genuine as you could get, and yet here they were resonating from inside those thick walls of Doctor Petricious's clinic. For a long moment, only these cries for mercy, begging Craft to come in and rescue her, was the only greeting he got, but eventually they faded to sobs, then silence. Then the door was pulled open suddenly. An odd thing, since when Craft looked inside he saw that nobody was close enough to reach the door. There was only a woman strapped to a table, unconscious now, and on the far side was a man dressed in the most bizarre of outfits. An enormous leather coat, or robe, that was stained even darker than its natural black from blood, caked smeared and dried. He peered at Craft from behind what could only be described as a mask of sorts, though the shear size of the thing was unbelievably massive, and shaped like a strange bird's head. There wasn't even a sliver of skin to see of the Doctor, Petricious. "Welcome my boy. What can the good doctor do for you today? Are you ill? Broken bones? No, you look well enough. Perhaps you are cursed? I have no cures for curses, but I can probably find a medical solution to any of your needs." The doctor finished his sentence then returned to his work on the woman. Apparently, on the side hidden from Craft, Petricious was wrist deep in her stomach, digging around for something, only he truly knew... maybe.

[Craft]

The screams suddeness and volume caused Craft to quickly cover his sensitive ears. The woman's voice seemed to echo within his head as he was forced to clasp his palms firmly against his ears and grit his teeth from the pain. Craft could hear her begs, her pleads for help and mercy. He could hear every change in note with every change in her condition. Underneath the screams, almost completely covered by the sound of the woman herself, Craft thought he could hear something that sounded like fresh beef being sliced (Like what you would hear in a butcher's shop), but he did not think on it as the screams increased in intensity before trailing off into silence.

Slowly, Craft lowered his hands and straightened, having bent almost doubled over before. The young man was just thinking if he should find help when the door opened seemingly on its own. Hesitantly, he peeked his head inside and was startled to find a giant bird staring back at him and nearly bolted for fear the monster would eat him, but then he noticed the edgings of a mask and the man's body connected to the bird features.

Is this the Doctor? wondered Craft? Inside his instincts were telling him to keep his distance, that the man was dangerous, but Craft's features remained as calm as before. Almost as if his expressions were disconnected from his actual emotions. Then Craft's eyes traveled over the body, and his pale face paled further (if that is possible) when he noticed the doctors hands in her stomach. There was a smell as well, strong and almost overpowering that almost made him gag. Cupping his hand over his mouth and nose Craft turned his eyes on Dr. Petricious, "I am *cough* I am just fine...

Cautiously Craft stepped over the doorway, still covering his mouth and nose as he walked a little ways around the table, but seeing what it was the Doctor was doing he quickly returned to standing close to the door, "I have come..." Craft had to suppress the urge to gag once more as he heard sloshing sounds and wet gurgles coming from the Doctor's search, "I am here to ask if you would take me as your apprentice? I had heard rumors of your--" His tongue stilled as he saw a bit of blood fleck onto the table, but he quickly found it again, "Skills in medicine. Please, will you teach me?"

Craft's eyes wandered over the woman once more, taking in her now still face. Inside the clinic Craft could now hear the beat of her heart as she lay. It was slightly elevated, but that was to be expected given how loudly she was screaming. Craft was sure his heart would be fast as well if he had endured that pain... He could also make out the in and out of her breathing, slightly erratic, as well as the pump of blood in her arteries. The boy felt a revolution for what he saw, and he wondered how a man could do this to another person... but underneath his initial reaction Craft also felt a tinge of curiosity...

[Leviathan]

The head of the bird slowly tilted to face Craft once again. For a moment, the doctor's eyes could be seen, dark and piercing, looking straight into the soul of Craft. Such was the feeling he had. The wired grid that protected Doctor Petriciouses eyes did nothing to mask that eerie glare he was receiving. Then, without a warning, the doctor pulled his hand from the woman's body, and tightly held in his fingers was the longest purplish blood-smeared rope-like organ that Craft (probably) had ever seen. Even after the Doctor pulled the intestines free from the body, either end remained nestled inside her stomach, as if they were arms holding onto what should be. "You look pale." Pale was an understatement. Craft looked nauseous, like every ounce of nutrition or fluid he had consumed in the past twenty-four hours would force itself out into the open word, perhaps from the way it came, and perhaps the way it should go (just unexpected). Was he simply fearing the situation he was watching, or was he simply unprepared for the sights he was taking in. "Yes, I am Doctor Petricious." The doctor confirmed as he held up the wad of organs in his palm, as if showing the gore was testament to his profession. "But I claim more than just talent in the field of medicine. Why, surgery is a passion of mine, toxicology and diseases, even the mind itself. I have many theories about humans and the humanoid races, many theories that I must test." The doctor casually dropped the intestines on the woman's stomach and prodded the giant mask on his head, smearing a thin crimson line of blood across it's recently perfectly spotless white surface. "But you look nervous. I'm not sure you are prepared for this line of work. Perhaps, if you can keep your food to yourself, I could have use for you. But, I don't know, you seem spineless. I mean no offense. I have seen barbarians who could butcher a child in cold blood and never bat an eye, but when they see me at work, they cry like that very child they have slain." The doctor shrugged as he picked up a razor sharp pair of scissor-like tools, and severed either end of the intestine. A foul stench instantly wafted into the room, as if heavy winds carried the odor of a carcass not a half-mile away. "Oh my."

[Craft]

As Craft watched, the boy felt the sense of curiosity begin to build within him. Slowly, he crept around the table once more, looking at the opened stomach of the woman. At the site of the gore, Craft's stomach fought to rebel against him, but the boy fought down this impulse, cursing himself for such weakness. Am I not Zith? Am I not my father's son? No, this shall not over come me.

Craft looked up at the Doctor at the mention of toxicology and theories of the human body. Once more he felt that flicker of curiosity come to life within his chest, fighting to overpower the revulsion that was quickly becoming a dull annoyance at the back of his mind. As Dr. Petricious pulled out the woman's intestine, Craft felt the nausea fight its way to the for front of his mind once more, and he was forced to clasp his hand over his mouth for a moment. Then, after closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath the boy lowered his hand and looked at the Doctor's work without blinking.

The words that Doctor Pretricious spoke stung the boy's pride and brought a bit of color back to his cheeks. Shaking his head, Craft cleared his throat and looked up at the doctor, "The Barbarians were weak. To kill is a task even a child younger than myself could accomplish, but I am stronger than them..."

As he spoke, Craft could feel his feelings of unease and nausea draining away. His anger and pride soon followed until all that was left was a cool, calm contemplation of what was going on around him. For as long as Craft could remember, he had always had a strange side that set him apart from the Zith of the Family. From time to time the boy would lose the ability to feel his emotions, and for a race that thrived on passions and instincts this was looked down upon.

WIth the drain of his emotions, the look in Craft's eyes changed as well. The strong determination that had fueled his outburst before slowly slipped from his eyes, and the glow of pride dimmed to nothing. What was left was a calm, almost calculating look of someone who neither cared nor aspired for anything in life. The look of a man who simply wished to see his task completed. It was not a look that would inspire fear, nor one that would call out hate or despise. It was a lack of expression, a lack of caring all together.

Craft did not flinch at the sudden, nauseating smell. Instead he stepped closer to the table, leaning over the body for a closer look. Reaching forward the boy shifted aside the tangled coils of the intestine for a better look at the organs that lay underneath. Tracing his finger along its length, Craft followed the intestine to where it passed under the woman's uterus and connected with the sphincters of the rectum. Blinking slowly, Craft looked up at the doctor, "Doctor Petricious, does this organ function the same in women as it does in men? And that, there," He pointed to the Liver situated just under the Diaphram, "What is it's purpose in the human body?"

Leaning back Craft wiped his bloodied hands on his clothes, not seeming to notice the stains as he stepped around to the other side of the table, tilting his head as if listening, "And how is it... that you can keep the woman alive and asleep during the procedure?" Craft straightened and looked up at the Doctor's masked face, "Please Doctor, take me as your apprentice and you will not regret your decision. My will is not so weak as a lowly barbarians, and my hand is steadier by far I can assure you. Allow me to learn from your wisdom, teach me the secrets of the living body." Though the words were spoken respectfully, there was no emotions behind them. The only thing that was immediately immanent from Craft, at this moment, was his deep desire to learn the secrets of life, and it was obvious that he wished Doctor Petricious to guide him on the way to knowledge.