ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ (mysticism) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-06-25 12:07:00 |
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Lee took out the boxes from the bag and set them around her desk, having pushed aside most of her paperwork in preparation for this dinner. It probably would have done her some good to put a coffee table in the head office of the clinic next to a sofa for these times, but Lee was too used to eating right at her table. All by herself, mostly, at least until her daughter, Barbara had shown up here. Now, she really only ate here in anticipation for big events such as yet another entity stirring up trouble in Vallo. Barbara was safe at home and tucked in bed. Lee had made sure of that before she came down to the clinic. Her extra dishes she had gotten for Stephen’s share was set closer to the other side of the desk where chairs for clients sat. When she heard the knock sound on her door, she yelled out “Come in, I got everything ready!” Vallo was weird - that much was true. But when he arrived and then literally a day or two later the island was besieged by murderous turkeys, Stephen had no idea of the depth of the experience he was in for. Because that wasn’t just a one-and-done type of deal. It wasn’t a fluke. No. Metaphysically, Vallo was a catboat with one lone sail, caught in a damn hurricane - it was that off balance. It was the living example of shaky cam - handheld footage that gave the viewer intense nausea and caused vomiting and distress, an island-shaped example of Murphy’s Law; whatever could go wrong would go wrong. Yes, things were always going wrong, and even he - used to dealing with plenty of cosmic horrors, power-crazed dimension rulers, and purple genocidal aliens - had to admit it was a little much. But, well, what could he do? Besides learn to sail in these choppy waters. The Maleficent situation was also best handled carefully - the last thing he wanted was for any of those locals to be harmed. This was already setting back local-Outlander relations a country mile, so he’d head out there when any plan was put into action and play taxi to get injured parties to the clinic, or do whatever he could using Eldritch magic to assist. In the meantime, he needed to eat - so when Lee offered takeout, he took her up on it. “I brought dessert,” he announced when he went into the office, shutting the door behind him. Quickly, he’d portaled to the nearest bakery and brought back two dark chocolate cupcakes in a white cardboard box. Hard times were always better with chocolate. “It’s the most important part of the meal.” Now that was not an idea she had had, and so Lee was grateful that he did. Dessert, definitely important. She gave him a huge smile, already anticipating the end of the dinner when she could have one of those cupcakes. “One of your best ideas yet, Doctor,” she said. Her fingers already itched for those chocolates, but she took up one of the takeout dishes for herself, forsaking chopsticks for a fork. Definitely not conventional, she was terrible with chopsticks, and always preferred the ease of a fork when it came to Chinese takeout. She had zero cares about whoever judged her for it though. She did, at least, leave a pair of chopsticks for Stephen to grab in case that’s what he went for. Or the extra packet of fork/spoon/knife also placed right next to it. She’d also gotten them two separate cans of soda. Wine would have been the go-to for her if she’d been at home but in this situation when there was no telling when the enemy would attack, she needed her head completely clear. “So, are we really dishing historical gossip about ourselves during this? Because I have plenty to share, but I won’t blame anyone for never trusting me again.” Stephen settled in one of the chairs, getting comfortable - Chinese food, and chopsticks, were completely fine with him. Reminded him of those long nights during ER shifts, when he and Christine would order in plenty of sustenance and work those long hours, keeping themselves fueled. He popped open a container of noodles, digging chopsticks into it - he preferred to use those, but definitely didn’t care if a fork was the preference for others. “Historical gossip,” he snorted a dry laugh. “That’s a great way to put it, but yes. Sounds like a good goal, a good thing to do while we wait for impending doom.” He paused to take some of those noodles, lo mein to be precise - when he was a kid he liked slurping them up, enjoying every last bit of sauce that clung to them. Now it was definitely no different - though he had manners so he engaged in far less slurping. “And whatever you say remains between us. Not to leave this room.” And he wasn’t going to judge. Not like he’d been a paragon of virtue for most of his life either. Oh, everyone said that but if Lee ever started spilling Gotham’s every secret, she felt like every citizen from a sane world would stay twenty feet away at all times. She couldn’t blame them, though. Gotham had too many horrific criminals coming out of the world’s worst mental asylum set up which seemed to be do less rehabilitation and more further spiraling into murder and mayhem. “I was once a crime-lord for a short time in the Narrows. It’s probably the most impoverished neighborhood in Gotham, wrought with all the crime you can think of. And I ended up running it when the previous boss got shot in the head.” She paused and put up her fork with a piece of chicken at the end for emphasis. “Not by me! Just FYI. It just so happened that that mishap lead to people suddenly placing me in that position. I went from ‘the doc’ to ‘queen of the Narrows’.” She wrinkled her nose in embarrassment. “I’m so glad it was short-lived. But probably because the area was eventually bombed with the whole island sectioned off from the mainland. It got far too dangerous that the government decided better to wipe us off the map entirely.” “Queen of the Narrows,” Stephen repeated, a soft whistle accompanying the words. Oh yes, now we were getting into the good stuff - Doctor Lee was a crime lord too, who would have thought? Not him, that was for sure. “And I question any government that thinks erasing an entire neighborhood to solve the rampant crime problem is a good idea.” But he guessed it was easier to do that, than to actually devote time and resources into solving the issue - no, that took effort. God forbid. Though he was curious as to how tight of a ship Lee ran as a mob boss or whatever. “Well, they must have respected you at least a little to want to put you into that position. I guess running an Outlander clinic in Vallo pales in comparison, huh?” he chuckled lowly, twirling more noodles and scooping up a healthy portion with those chopsticks. There were vegetables too - bean sprouts and snap peas, and so forth. He’d try to eat some of those as well, even if this wasn’t the healthiest choice of meal but who cares. It was looking like he’d be at the clinic all night anyway, and he needed to eat something. Lee chuckled along with him, turning her eyes on her food now. “Honestly, I would rather do this. Turf wars were a major problem then so it wasn’t like I was head of the territory and everything was peachy keen. I had a few attempts on my life. I actually managed to get stabbed at one point. Do you remember Edward Nygma who was here in Vallo a few weeks back?” Turf wars didn’t sound like anything fun either - a hard knock life to be certain, and it seemed like for many people Vallo was surprisingly less exciting. In a few ways. Granted, you never knew what would pop up in terms of monsters and evildoers, but for the most part the Outlanders themselves all seemed to just live and let live. Without anyone going around stabbing each other. There was crime in the city, of course, and the forest - your standard violence, robberies, property destruction. Anything you’d find in basically any world. But nothing like where wandering to the store across the street might get a bullet slamming into you randomly. “I - don’t think I do?” Stephen replied, considering the name and trying to picture a face. “I usually have a pretty good memory though. So no. Why, what about him?” “He was the one who stabbed me.” She said it so casually, right after finishing her current bite. Had things really progressed in Gotham so badly that she could talk about dying like this? Well, yeah, probably. The last she remembered was ten years after Gotham had seen its worst days, with the lockdown and total chaos reigning everywhere, but those ten years were at least better. For starters, those ten years began with having Barbara Lee in her life. “I’m honestly surprised we managed to stay completely civil while we were here.” Stephen quirked an eyebrow - that was a somewhat casual admission of death, but then again, he was guilty of the same thing. Talking about Dormammu had become pretty commonplace for him - he’d even shared the story at those Death Club meetings, and it actually did help. A little. It wasn’t for everyone, but for him - the time had come where he was ready to discuss it and unpack some of the baggage associated with the whole experience. For his own benefit, for the benefit of those he cared about here. “I’m glad he’s gone then,” he huffed, swallowing another mouthful of noodles. “I’ve been stabbed too, it’s not great - or, well, run through. Whatever. Multiple times. Many deaths, all in rapid succession on a time loop.” So basically the same thing over and over (and over and over) again. He didn’t regret what he did - it was either that or let the world be swallowed whole by a power-hungry maniac, and that wasn’t going to be an option. Lee, meanwhile, was not aware of Death Club. Did it really count as death if she was brought back to life by a mad scientist of Gotham? It wasn’t like Hugo Strange had decided to give her any abilities… just made her a sleeper agent to do his deeds till Jim Gordon had electrocuted her to get her to stop attacking him. (What a lovely start to their married life.) “Okay, I think dying once was enough for me. Multiple times? Your stomach is stronger than mine.” She placed her container and fork down, taking a breather in between bites, before leaning forward so her elbows were on the desk. “So! What about your dirty little secrets?” “Nothing as exciting as being a crime boss, I’m afraid,” Stephen admitted with a smirk. He wasn’t sure how to explain his secrets, his internal gaffes, his questions and yes, his wrongdoings. Because he wasn’t a perfect person - but he’d come a long way, and he’d try to open up a little. Wouldn’t close himself off like he was his own crime scene, even if it felt as messy as that some days. He focused on the noodles though, what remained of them in the sturdy paper carton. “I used to have - incredible fear of failure. So much that, as a neurosurgeon, I wouldn’t take on cases unless I was sure they’d be puzzles for me to solve and add to my perfect record. I thought it was what made me a great doctor, never failing - but when I studied at Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One called me out on that. She said it was truly what kept me from greatness, and she was right.” Even now, his hands shook minutely - he could have fixed that. When he gazed upon the time stone locked within the Eye of Agamotto after the battle of wills with Dormammu, it would have been possible. Go back to his old life, literally, from before he’d flipped his car over a cliff and took away his ability to heal as a surgeon should. But he chose not to - he looked at his hands, still did, and hated the way they were. And yet he’d accepted that they must stay this way - because it wasn’t all about him, it was about protecting life. That’s what he did - it was a prime tenant of his ‘hero’s’ journey. He was no Avenger mowing down mook after mook, or causing massive collateral damage - he didn’t kill. Wouldn’t, unless completely and utterly forced to do so - which still didn’t take away the horror of having to go down that road either. “Ohhh,” Lee said with a smirk, settling back in her chair again. “You’re that kind of surgeon. Or were.” She had met plenty of doctors and surgeons in her lifetime, some who genuinely cared about making a difference, especially among vulnerable populations, and some who thought they were god’s gift to mankind, and acted like everyone should be thanking them for existence. “But, those doctors, I don’t think would have realized how wrong they were. Their heads were too far up their asses. I don’t think with them, it was about fear to failure. They were probably just major assholes” Whether or not he was a major asshole was up for debate - but Stephen was wise enough to know that he was not everyone’s cup of tea, let’s just say. Regardless, he was who he was and there were some people in Vallo who actually seemed to like him for whatever reason - he had...friends? Yes, friends. A new concept. They were one of the reasons why he’d prefer to stay here and not be unceremoniously yanked back to a world where everything was literally falling apart and he had to prioritize which metaphysical fire to put out first. “I suppose I’ve been given new purpose - but it’s nice to be able to be involved with medicine and healing in the ways that I can be,” he said, setting the nearly-empty carton aside; he’d portal the trash out once they’d collected enough (and that was probably a metaphor for life too - just go on and portal the trash out). “I probably wouldn’t get to do consulting work back home. Too much going wrong, all the time.” He’d earned his paycheck - if he got paid for the Sorcerer Supreme gig which did not seem likely. “Hey, I am always willing to have you around here,” Lee said, picking up her carton again. “And I guess a lot of things go wrong in Vallo too but it seems like it’s still a better place than, say, Gotham.” A place where everything always went wrong because there was always some sort of super villain trying to take it over and rule. At some point, you would think they would give up on Gotham and find another city to try and take over. Like they’d have much better luck with New York City across the waters. “It seems like here, we just have to worry about murder turkeys and pigeons. And… the occasional trip to the past but you seemed to have taken care of that pretty well!” Murder turkeys and pigeons. Stephen chuckled wryly, and it would probably sound odd if he hadn’t experienced it all firsthand - presumably any animal with sharp enough teeth and enough hunger and bones to pick for whatever reason could show up and be murderous, but whomever (or whatever) was pulling the puppet strings here really seemed to dislike birds for some reason. A contemplative thought for another time, maybe. “Oh, Vallo seems like a much better place than Gotham,” he agreed. “It’s better than my world too. Just have to take the good with the bad, I guess.” Reaching for the white cardboard box, he flipped it open and unearthed one of those divine chocolatey cupcakes, beginning to peel the wrapper off. “And always remember to eat dessert.” The unfinished carton (well, mostly finished, at least) in Lee’s hand was forgotten as she put it aside and reached for the other cupcake. “Okay, so dishing the dirty laundry was fun but yes, I think we can move onto dessert and some sweeter topics.” |