Doctor Smith

“You can come out now. I know you’re hiding. It’s okay, I have no weapons.”

The silk drapes by the window parted to reveal the assassin veiled in black. Doctor Smith stood tall with short dark hair. His face was long and bore a greying goatee which ended in a point. A thick red night robe complete with a warm silk scarf adorned this his shoulders.

He sighed and opened a globe on the side table by one of the several lounge chairs in his personal library. Inside was a mini bar. “Would you care for a drink? No? Well, before you kill me, at least let me explain what I’ve done. I need to get this off my chest. As the child of the man I murdered, I knew you would find me sooner or later. Have a seat, please.”

The assassin hesitated a moment before holstering his pistol. He remained standing with his arms crossed.

“Have it your way. It began years ago. This man paraded across town on a regular basis wreaking havoc on our fair city. Oh, he wasn’t the only one, but he was the best of them. His inventions caused devastation on a regular basis. Whole companies went under due to rebuilding costs. Insurance couldn’t keep up. All this unbridled mayhem is still pushing our country into another financial depression.”

Doctor Smith paused for a moment to pour himself a glass of brandy. The amber liquid matched the man perfectly; a harsh yet delicate drink that could only be consumed in small doses. This was a man of poise, a man who demanded respect.

He continued. “But, the important bit is all the people he killed. Every building destroyed by one of his crazy robots or one of his death rays resulted in the deaths of hundreds of people. For what? To get back at his nemesis? To purge the city of the unworthy? Most of the time, their kind have well understood motives. Your father was just reckless.”

The doctor sighed and took a seat nearby with the glass of brandy in his hand. Now that he was closer to the light, the assassin saw the dark bags under his eyes. There were deep wrinkles in his brow, not from age but from stress. A man of his early thirties should not be quite so grey.

“And so we come to just a few nights ago. Your father lay before me on a gurney, clothed in his garish costume and mask. He was facing one of his more powerful enemies that night. Several blocks had been obliterated from that combat. Wounded civilians were pouring into the hospital in droves. Being the best surgeon this side of the country, I was tasked to help your father.

“This man who was but a creature of chaos and destruction was now in my domain, helpless and under my complete control. I alone could decide whether he was to live or die.”

Dr. Smith leaned back and picked up a framed picture from the table next to him. The photo depicted a wedding between a much younger man in a rented tuxedo and a beautiful woman with chestnut colored hair. They smiled behind the glass with a glimmer of love in their eyes. “She died that night, you know. The same night your father did. She was working late at the Rathsberg Insurance office when it came crashing down from the spider robot thing. Just one of many deaths…

His hands shook as he replaced the picture. He picked up a polished wooden pipe and puffed thick clouds of noxious smoke as he lit it. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d like a smoke before I die. Where were we?

“As you know, I’m under oath to do everything in my power to save the life of whatever patient I’m charged with. It is my duty as a medical practitioner to treat every man, woman, and child exactly the same no matter their background. For the most part, we never know anything more than their name and medical history. But everyone knew exactly who he was.

“I had to make a decision, and believe me it wasn’t easy. Should I do my duty as a professional surgeon and save this man’s life? Or, should I purposefully make a critical mistake on the operating table and end the suffering caused by this one man? If I let him die, I would be saving countless lives.

“Of course, you know the answer. I made a mistake. The incision was just a hair too deep and his heart couldn’t take it. It was an extremely difficult procedure. Everyone knew the risks, and no one blamed me for it. I murdered your father and nobody knew.”

Dr. Smith raised his glass and gave the assassin a humorless smile. “Well, except for you of course, and probably just about anyone who knows me well enough to understand I don’t make mistakes.”

He swallowed the rest of his brandy and sighed. His grey-blue eyes stared at nothing as he leaned back in his heavy chair. “I’ve made my peace. I’m ready to die.”