"P-please!" The shrill, panicked cry cut through the crisp, still night, frantic breaths of fire flaring in the cold air, desperately clinging to warmth. "I'll give you anything! M-money... gems, treasure, you name it!"
The poor Coatl backed away, her voice filled with panic. Her feathers had folded down until they were nearly pinned to the sides of her head and neck, flammable acid spraying from her maw in a futile threat.
A sly grin quirked at her assailant's features as he took a slow, calculating step forth.
"When you came to my hospital the other night..." Theodore's voice, in stark contrast to his victim's cries, was smooth and almost delicate, deceptively rich and sweet.
It was the same voice that had comforted the Coatl when she'd gone in to have surgery; the same comforting tone that had, along with the enchanted anesthesia, lulled her into a deep, painless sleep as her innards were tugged at and prodded with needles and stitching.
Now, however, that sultry tone was filled with hints of malice, lilting with a manic desire to cut her open once more, this time to leave her dissected and cold on the operating table.
The Coatl hissed at the thought, snapping at Theodore with renewed bravado. "G-get away from me! I paid the hospital bill already. What more do you w-"
She was cut off with a pitiful squeak as a powerful, thickly furred paw clamped around her sinewy neck. She screeched like a dying sparrow, her eyes wild with fire and fear.
A second, amused voice rang out, and the Coatl's thoughts went blank.
"Mmh, you see, we weren't exactly done with your procedure, my friend."
The Coatl managed to turn to see Theodore's fellow doctor, another trusted figure in her community, Clavier. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she tried to wriggle away as she noticed bits of blood, thick, shimmering, dragon blood, crusted upon his fur near his jaws.
When Clavier opened his maw, the Coatl saw the same red substance coating his fangs, and she struggled more.
Clavier hummed, "Don't worry, my dear. You aren't the first one to receive this treatment." His eyes glowed hazily in the darkness, and the Coatl's senses dulled, the pain in her neck lessening until she felt nothing. The last thing she heard was Theodore's distant, malevolent chuckle. "You won't feel a thing. We promise..."
~~~
Theodore made the first incision, pinkish, arcane-tinted lifeblood lazily spewing from the wound in his patient's side. The Coatl's limp flesh pulsed with a long-dead heartbeat, barely kept alive by magic. True to his word, the dead dragon felt nothing as her cadaver was torn apart and rebuilt.
Wiping his pink-stained claws on a cloth, Theodore carried a slice of dubious meat to Clavier's work station on the other side of the room. "Here," he purred, his voice once again careful. "You've been up all night. You need to eat."
The tundra glanced at the plate, his pupils narrowing to feral slits for a moment, before he snorted and looked away. "I'm busy," was all he uttered, furiously scribbling at diagrams in a notebook.
Theodore frowned. His work went unnoticed except by Formaldehyde, who padded over to the platter, tumbling over books and diagrams, until she sunk her fangs into the dried, preserved flesh with a content mewl. The Skydancer quirked a small grin and scratched the feline's head, eliciting a purring squeak from her.
"At least someone appreciates my efforts," he teased.
All that earned him was a quiet hiss from Clavier. Theodore's frown returned, and he sighed. "Alright, this is beginning to become concerning."
He tilted his head, his feathers fluffing up in slight worry.
"You're not talking to me... you're not even interested in well prepared food. Whatever is the matter?"
Clavier muttered, "That was the wrong Coatl."
Theodore paused, feeling a twinge of... not guilt, but... unease. He shook his head, voicing his confusion. "How so?"
His tundra partner gave a quiet hiss, returning his attention to his work. He did, however, take the time to at least poke at the meat on the plate, shooing Formaldehyde away before she could devour it all. Unsatisfied with the texture, Clavier only tasted a slight nibble of the flesh, sighing and drawing up another diagram of Coatl blood vessels.
He mumbled, "That Coatl, Lottie Asphalt. You noticed how pallid her coat was? How dim her eyes were?"
There was a moment of silence. The growing unease felt tangible, and Theodore gave a small nod.
"I noticed it tonight; her coat was much paler than I initially thought it to be, but I assumed that you had envied her beautiful singing voice. Either that or her expertise in the medical field for her age." His eyes darted around the room. "When she came in for surgery, she seemed to know many terms..."
Clavier huffed, "No. The target was her twin sister. Felicity Asphalt. I didn't recall until a few moments ago. Aside from slightly differing colors, they look and smell very similar." With that, he turned sharply, holding up a photo of a more vibrant, youthful Coatl; a Coatl who Theodore knew to be still alive, still walking the streets.
Theodore's features contorted into a snarl. He backed away until he nearly hit the table where Lottie's prone form now sat. He glanced at her once more, realizing just how sickly she was. Just how pathetic and frail she was, even without injury.
Theodore sighed, "A crying shame. But a patient is a patient. Why waste a perfectly good cadaver...?" He refused to just... discard her. He couldn't; his prime attribute, his immoderation... wouldn't let him.
Clavier huffed, "I want Felicity in
pieces." His eyes sparked with reanimating magic, and he strode over to the operating table, setting his claws upon Lottie's still form. "While I can't say I regret what has been done... I say, we can use this to our advantage."
Knowing Clavier's idea, Theodore chuckled darkly. He grabbed his needles, syringes, and other medical gear, joining the Tundra in his wicked actions.
Deft claws stitched flesh and muscle back into a coherent form; what couldn't be manually repaired was mended with magic. Power and energy flowed into the corpse, light crackling through the room and even startling Formaldehyde.
...
Lottie's eyes snapped open, filling with a revived light. True to the doctor's word, she felt no pain.
~~~
Felicity approached the hospital, impatiently tapping her claws against the stone path. A deep frown formed at her features, and she hissed, "Come on! Open up already!"
No one answered; the windows were shuttered, and darkness could be seen inside. Felicity squinted in an attempt to make out the shadows of any dragons, doctor or not, but all that greeted her was a message written in flowery caligraphy, "We're Closed~"
The Coatl's feathers flared, and she raised a claw to knock at the door once more. But before she could once again pound at the doors, the entrance opened, and an ice-cold, quivering claw caught her wrist. She yelped as she was dragged inside, her eyes lighting up with slight fear.
"Wha-?!"
She was shoved onto what seemed to be an operating table, her tail brushing against a warm, thick liquid that her olfactory senses recognized as blood. She whimpered as the lights flickered on, the face of none other than her twin looming over her.
"L-Lottie! What is the meaning of this?!" Felicity tried to sit up, but Lottie caught her arms, staring at her with hollow, piercing eyes. A twinge of fear struck Felicity's heart, and she squeaked, "Lottie..?"
Cutting through the stillness, a familiar voice rang out. "A pleasure for you to join us today."
Felicity managed to turn to see as Theodore stepped out of the supply room, a sharp grin plastered onto his features. He chuckled, seeing her eyes widen with fear.
"No need to fret, my dear. We were just preparing dinner..."
A spark of magic illuminated the room. Felicity's senses went dead. She heard a second voice, one she recognized as Clavier the Tundra doctor, ringing out in a powerful, resentful hiss.
"Hello, Felicity..." Claws lowered towards her neck. "Your pelt shimmers with magic... even greater than my own... and we can't have that, now can we..?"
There was a disgusting snap, not even a shriek.
Felicity felt nothing... until she awoke as an empty, cold cadaver, piloted by magic. Her coat was gone. She spotted a small cat in the corner, gnawing on a strip of arcane-glowing meat. The reanimated creature, thoroughly torn apart, could hardly think, her brilliant mind ripped away. No feathers, no body, and no mind. Everything that the Envious one had sought after had been stolen away...
Of Felicity Asphalt...all that remained were bones...
