Chapter Text
A few days. A few exhausting days.
At the very least, he had escaped, and all too easily. Thankfully. Buckets of blood had poured everywhere across the walls and floors during the riot at Arkham State Penitentiary, leaving numerous killed. Even the Warden himself. The news had spread quickly, and he had to make sure to keep hidden. Deep in an abandoned alleyway. If this had been the, let's say, 1920s it wouldn't have done so. How annoying, honestly.
The chemist had cursed inwardly at the mere discovery of a new invention called the Internet. Apparently, it had popped up during the late 90s. Of course, the bloodbath of story had been everywhere on television as well as on every major news outlet on the Web. As soon as he had been able to, he had listened for any possibility of Herbert West being on the Killed-In-Action List from the report on the riot. He had even researched it on the internet -- and far as he knew? He had been on it.
The prison and the police had finally moved on from that portion of the carnage, now focusing on making sure the survivors were found and accounted for.
That had been yesterday when the conjoined forces decided to finally do such a thing.
A day later, the escaped convict had been able to get on a bus to get out of town.
Herbert's head rested lazily against the back of his bus seat, as the bus continued to drive its passengers to their destinations unaware of its infamous passenger within the small crowd. Sleeplessness had gripped him the second evening in a row, but he didn't mind it. Thoughts threatened to drift to the riot for what seemed like the millionth time by this point --
Howard Phillips... my new name.
Amusing to say the least. That had been the name of the chemist's former partner while still prison. Dr. Phillips had wanted to work with the inmate, because of the incident 13 years prior that had resulted in the Phillips sister being killed by a zombie. More accurately, a re-animated corpse. It was what brought the two together into a twisted, chaotic relationship.
Typical of Arkham, being a city that drew in all shades of chaos within its walls.
Arkham...
He was easily halfway across the state of Massachusetts by now. The doctor had his sights set on the town of Cooms, a town he had read about while in prison in one of state-supplied books. Imagine that, he amused thought, as he let loose a small chuckle past his lips. Apparently, the town had one of the best hospitals in the whole country - and it paid its employees a bunch too so he wouldn't have to worry about the expenses of his reagent.
He could easily and swiftly settle into the crowd of staff members there. He had forged documents about Howard Pihllips, posing as him since the day of the riot. Having gotten his hair dyed the exact color of Howard's -- dirty blonde -- he had been all but ready. An excuse had readily been prepared in his mind for needing glasses too.
The male glanced up, letting his head fall forward a bit.
Ouch.
ZZZZZZZZ
Meanwhile, the town of Cooms remained unaware of the Herbert West hurricane that would be soon arriving - its inhabitants laughing, conversing, and smiling among the streets. Some ended up passing an imposing building in the Southeastern corner of town, Cooms' Hospital, a sleek white building that had been designed nearly 40 years ago. The sun eagerly above the town's residents peered within a few of the windows; it wanted to smile and say hello to everyone. Luckily for the staff there had been curtains or blinds covering majority of the windows, so mere slivers had been able to get through.
Squinted eyes watched some cars vroom by, some people walking and having .. ice cream, he thought. The sun had been so bright thus far today, and a grumble exited out of his mouth, before he shoved the curtain back into its place. Hopefully it'd call for clouds later on. That'd greatly help. Peering out of the window had definitely helped his mind wander a little bit, a crucial thing he thought other doctors should partake in as well. Not many of the others did though... and that troubled him.
God, his anxiety sometimes.
Smile, damn it, it might cheer you up, he told himself. A small smile planted itself onto his face as he turned towards an approaching figure. A look of panick had been on the doctor's face, but it decided to include slight shards of relief.
Oh no, the brown haired male thought.
"Doctor Cain! D-Daniel..."
Yeah, pure panick. Fuck. Well, they do say this job tests your stress levels... "Yeah, what is it, Steve?" He answered, sounding hopeful yet serious in all one beat.
Steve motioned him to follow, which Dan did so.
Alright, so relax... no reason to not lose your smile, right?
Some days he truly did need to force himself to smile, to remind him all was well and continue to be well. His chaotic days had been behind him.
"Brittney had just went into critical and --"
Okay, Steve's statement did test him somewhat, but still, the smile remained. Yes, this would be a good, productive day. Nothing that could -- who was that? A new doctor?
His eyes shifted over to the newbie, and the newbie had been talking to Dr. Cotton. Sort of, anyways. The older male doctor had been chatting away, while the newbie had been nodding occasionally. The newbie looked so familiar - oh, God, why? Besides appearing as blonde, it reminded him of.... of...
Herbert Fuckin' West.
Oh no, his smile was starting to slide away.
The bane of his existence, at least within his nightmares. A shudder coarsed down Dan's spine, as memories wanted to spur up in an instant. Ever since Dan had met Herbert West, things hadn't felt right. Sociopathic and manipulative, the two qualities he could had easily described his former re-animating partner as. But that had been in the past, right? 13 years. 13 long years, yet the asshole still managed to plague his life.
And.. fuck! His smile. Now, it turned seemingly permanently into a frown.
He already missed it.
Goddamn it....
Steve waved a hand in front of his face, giving him a sudden startle, abruptly dragging him out of his thoughts. The brown-haired doctor shook his head, and glanced down at the other blinking rapidly. "S-Sorry," he sincerely apologized. "How.. long was I spacing?"
A sigh. "About a full 30 seconds, dude," Steve murmurred, irritated with his friend. What was wro -- Oh. "That's the new doctor. Dr. Phillips."
Dan swallowed hard, trying to slow down his racing heart. He nodded slowly. Phillips. Of course. No West. Good, good.
"I'll introduce you later," Steve stated, smiling reassuringly. "It'd be alright." He clapped the other doctor on the back. "Come on," he instructed, now getting Dan to move once more.
Herbert stared after Steve and Dan's retreating forms for a little while, discretely of course. He leaned against the window's sill, waiting as Dr. Cotton copied some forms within the Printing Room.
Dan.... That had been undeniably his former partner. Multiple feeling presented themselves within that very moment -- hurt, betrayal, hatred, longing ...--
W ait, longing?
He... A part of him still saw Dan as a friend.
That better not interfere with his revenge plans. It shouldn't. The former prisoner shoved away his feelings, put them into a box within his mind - they didn't need to get in the way. They were utterly useless.
Irritated, he pushed away from the window sill, as he saw the other doctor exit out of the room, holding up the papers in success. "Got 'em," he said, striding down the hallway at a quickened pace. Herbert quickly followed, matching his pace. Dr. Cotton held out the papers out to his partner, who took them and started to look over them.
"Brittney Cantillo, age 45. Recurring cancer in the breasts. Five years back, she had been admitted to Miskatonic University Hospital --"
The blonde had to lift his eyebrows as the other spoke. One would think they'd shut it down after two massacres. Apparently not. Last he heard, it had renovations done in the early to mid 90s.
"-- with the diagnosis of Stage 3 cancer from a lump initially found in her left breast. It had been driven out of her system in approximately 8 months. The cancer had just returned 3 weeks ago. She'll be one of your first patients. You'll be working with Doctors Cain and Cogan."
Herbert shot a quick glance over to the other.
Seriously?
He hadn't accounted for that to happen-- to work with Dan again. Hell, tthis might be trickier than he thought. Nevertheless, he couldn't present two fronts in this hospital now, could he?
The two doctors soon came upon a room, a detour of Doug Cotton's. "Give me a moment, Doctor," he muttered to Herbert, who nodded. Cotton's cold eyes fell onto the occupant of the singular room, a sadly smiling middle-aged male laying underneath a few covers.
"Hey, Doc," they called out to Cotton, who nodded in acknowledgement.
"Christian. I trust you're feeling a bit better today?" Customary for a doctor to say such a thing towards a patient, but there had been not even a hint of care within Cotton's voice. He went further into the room, now checking a clipboard nearby. Slight tension hung in the air between caretaker and patient. Either of them never saw each other on the same damn page, but there had been no notice of that by other staff members.
Christian nodded. "Yeah, a bit..." he nearly whispered, coughing all of a sudden.
Silence now, until --
"I have some bad news, Christian," the doctor started, causing a deep unsettling within Christian's stomach. He widened his eyes.
"W-What?"
"You have one week to live."
"WHAT!?" The redhead exclaimed, trying to move, but pain spread across his face.
"....I suggest you not to do that. You have one week 'til you die." Must as well be blunt about it, still.
"I h-heard you the first time!" A series of coughs now racked Christian's body. He groaned.
"Then what's--"
"At least you don't have to worry about dancing to death, right?"
Awkward silence.
Very awkward.
Both doctor and patient stared at each other, then towards Herbert. "He's new," Cotton told Christian before pulling Herbert out of the room, who gave a scornful look.
"I can understand the attempted usage of humor, Dr. Phillips, but it is misplaced." Dr. Cotton grabbed Christian's paperwork before coming back back out of the room again, then motioned Herbert to follow him.
...bastard of a doctor.
Soon, within the silence they arrived at Brittney's room, which had been already occupied by Dan and Steve who were busy looking over paperwork for their patient. All Dr. Cotton had to do was clear his throat, and both of them looked up. As Herbert mistakenly made eye contact with his former-partner, he had to push away the nasty thought of strangling him right then and there.
Memories quickly flooded back --
Him and Dan meeting for the first time. He probably appeared as off-standish.
Them passing by in the hallways of Miskatonic.
Him coming to 666 Darkmore Avenue. Wasn't the best first impression for Dan, appearing naked like that.
Meg creeped out by him.
Dan discovering him shooting up re-agent.
Numerous adventures dealing with the dead and un-dead.
Being split-up briefly because of his own near-death experiences.
A bunch of others.
Then, the most recent.
A very select few visits during his time in prison. It was insulting, each and every time.
He may expected Dan to move out, yes, but to turn him in?
Let him rot in prison?
No, not at all.
And oh, how it deeply stung.
"-- I'd like you to meet Doctor Daniel Cain, Howard," Steve stated with a smile, being able to look eye-level towards Herbert. Then a slightly worried expression came across his face. "I can call you 'Howard', Dr. Phillips, right?"
Herbert nodded with a false smile. "You can." He didn't even try to change his voice, just his tone.
Steve seemed relieved at that. He nodded with yet another smile, gently putting a hand onto Herbert's shoulder. "Okay, good- too much?"
"You're fine," came Herbert's clipped reply.
"Okay, awesome," Steve continued along, now moving his hand away to grab onto Dan's arm to guide him on over to Herbert. "Dan, I'd like to meet Howard here. He just started today too!" Steve exclaimed.
Dan looked at 'Howard' and forced a nervous smile onto his face. Come on, it's not him, it can't be... He held out a hand. "Hi there."
"Hi - Cain, was it?"
"Er, you can call me by my first name. Either or."
Herbert finally took it, and shook it. "Hi, Dan," he said, hoping to God he had changed over the years just enough.
Dan's anxiety skyrocketed. That had to be a coincidence, right?
Steve clapped his hands together, not quite realizing what was going on. "Alright! You --"
Cotton quickly interjected, which made Steve's eyebrows rise. "...If I may have a quick word with Dr. Phillips?"
Steve blinked at him. "Uhm... sure."
Herbert followed Cotton off to the side, while Steve seemed frustrated until he walked over to Dan and started talking about Brittney's new condition.
"Yes?" Herbert asked curiously, as he started to play with a pen he had found on a counter earlier. His vision locked onto Dr. Cotton's.
"....Are you really Phillips?" Cotton asked quietly, as he leaned in towards the other, eyes studying him closely.
Shit. I couldn't have been found out, impossible.
Herbert showed him a casual smile and laughed a little. "Of course I am. Who else would I be?"
"I think you've been a bit off."
"And?" That didn't guarantee anything.
"Your fate at that prison riot in Arkham... Rumors are going around that you either went insane, or committed suicide. Some say you even got dragged off to Innsmouth by its natives. So which is it?"
Innsmouth? What would that horrific town want with him?
Herbert shrugged. "Well, obviously I'm here now, aren't I? Don't believe such odd rumors."
"I'm watching you, Howard." That were his final words before he brushed past Herbert, which made the latter stare after him as he left the room.
Already, slight trouble.
Though it shouldn't be hard to handle, could it be?