PLEASE DISREGARD THIS MESSAGE IF YOU HAVE READ THE LOW CHAOS VERSION OF THIS STORY FIRST!
Hello fans and newcomers alike! It's been a while since I've written anything on this site, but Dishonored 2 sparked a flame in my imagination and gave me a killer idea for this story, writing about one character but from two perspectives (Low Chaos and High Chaos). You do not HAVE to read both versions if you want, but there may be some narrative holes later on as the story expands and the two paths diverge (at least as far as I have planned). But you do you, I can't tell you how to read my story. If you like it, please drop a review to tell me what you liked. If you didn't like it, again please drop a review to tell me what I can fix, I'm more than happy to take criticism.
Anyway, let's get going.
Nikon Luca bathed his gloves in antiseptic alcohol, licking his lips underneath his mask. He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles underneath the tightened leather.
"Get him on the cot," snapped the surgeon.
The company of three set down their fourth comrade on the medical bed, the man groaning in pain. His left hand was covered in blood and metal bits of shrapnel from a homemade grenade, likely from a gang attack.
"Doc, is he gonna be alright?" asked one of the guards.
Nikon thought about making a line about cutting off the man's hand and making an 'all-right' joke, but decided that it was a little too morbid for the moment and would likely impact the patient's health negatively.
"Motor function in his hand will likely decrease, but he will retain movement in it," explained the surgeon analytically. He picked up a pair of tweezers, snipping them together experimentally. "Please refrain from moving your hand too much. It'll move the metal bits around, and might cut something important."
He meticulously began to remove chunks of metal, the patient grabbing his buddy's arm for support.
"Come on man, you're doing great," encouraged his friend, patting him on the shoulder.
"Yes, he is definitely limiting his movements," grunted Nikon calmly. He placed a piece of metal onto a nearby tray. "You're lucky. Not a single one has appeared to be embedded in bones, so you should heal quickly."
The surgeon set down the tweezers, removing a scrap of cloth from a tank of antiseptic and wiping down the man's fresh bleeding wounds. The man snarled in pain and tried to flinch away, but a quick hand from the surgeon stopped him.
"I get that it stings, but I gain no pleasure from your pain, so please refrain from expressing it," snapped Nikon coldly. "Thankfully, this next bit will hurt decidedly less because of the previous bit."
He grabbed a needle and thread, beginning to sew the small wounds across the man's hands, moving with elegant swiftness across the skin easily. He was humming softly to some unknown tune, his eyes focusing on the skin intently.
"Bloody hell, that's some needlework," whispered the captain astonished.
"Surgery is my expertise, after all," spoke Nikon, snipping the thread on one wound and going to the next. He debated mentioning the 'specialties' of the guards in that room usually includes drinking, swearing, and being obnoxious cunts, but decided such a thing was unprofessional.
Once he finished, Nikon bandaged the stitches to make sure they wouldn't be pried off by itching fingers, keeping it in place with a metal bobby pin. He made sure the bandage was secure, before smiling contently. "Good to go."
He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, handing one to his patient. "Believe me, you're going to want these. Because you can't drink until you heal."
"What?!" asked the patient shocked. "I can't drink at all? What the hell am I going to do to pass the time?"
"Read a book, assuming you can," snapped his captain. "The doctor gave orders. You are to follow them."
The patient sighed, but nodded. "Yes sir."
Nikon lit the man's cigarette, lighting his own before throwing the match away. "Probably for the best, anyway. Drink will ruin you."
"I imagine you don't partake in it," noted one of the patient's friends.
"I prefer not to indulge in things that affect my work. Now if you have nothing else, I must get back to my lab."
Nikon walked out of the hall, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Another routine patient…least it gave me some practice."
He moved down the hallway easily, noting the expensive décor his client, council member Kuznetsov, loved to decorate his homestead with. It seemed so mind-numbingly saccharine to him, most of which art from local artists as if to flaunt his support of the community around him out of some misplaced paranoia.
"To be fair, it's hard to believe he gives a shit about anyone else," grunted the surgeon. "Bloody politicians, they're all the same."
He entered his laboratory, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "Diana, I have returned from the bottomless pit, bringing forth smoke and locusts. How goes the seeking death part?"
"Doctor, your morbid sense of humor is relatively nonexistent, but still appreciated," answered his assistant, glancing at him from her position at a microscope. "Did you have to go down to the clinic, though? Surely they could've handled whatever was going on down there."
"Yes, but it would impair my reputation if I simply turned away from a difficult case. Besides, I was bored, and I needed practice."
He sat down next to her, studying the glass cases on the table in front of them. Each one was full of rats in various stages of dying or dead, covered in fiery red sores and burns. "…I take it these ugly abominations in front of me are a result of mustard gas."
Diana nodded. "Subjects 12, 14, 25, 41, and 49 remain alive, but only barely. All others have expired within the last 6 hours. Specifically, the vast majority began to expire this morning, approximately 24 hours after initial exposure. It would seem by autopsy that most of the subjects expired by suffocating from sores developing in their airways, sealing it off by swelling."
"So undignified," grunted Nikon poking one of the cases, noting how the rat weakly glanced at him. "Please make a note that I disapprove of this compound from a professional standpoint. It is both unreliable in its lethality and remarkably inhumane."
"You consider killing and inhumanity non-synonymous?" asked Diana curiously.
"As a surgeon and doctor, I dislike excessive suffering. If we could spray a compound that immediately kills its victims, I would use that over this sadistic chemical."
He crossed off mustard gas from the list of possible chemical agents, right behind chlorine gas and phosgene. "Lethal gas agents appear inconsistent in best of circumstances. Nonlethal gas agents, however, have proven to be exceptionally debilitating. In particular, chili-pepper-based gases, such as the uncreatively named pepper spray, produce near-instantaneous pain and inability to properly function for at least half an hour."
Diana nodded, writing down his audible musings. "Perhaps we should petition for testing on other compounds? Perhaps not gas related."
"If you're going to propose whale oil bombs again, I'm going to get cross," snapped Nikon rolling his eyes.
"Oh please, that very idea was fundamentally flawed," admitted his assistant. "While whale oil is exceptionally explosive, there's simply no way of preventing alterations of pressure, say from dropping it or launching it with a mortar, meaning that it would do more damage to the user than the enemy. It works fine for bullets, but large amounts of whale oil get increasingly more unstable, so anything larger than a few grams is potentially dangerous."
"Then what are you proposing?"
"Biological."
Nikon whirled on her, glaring at her through his dark hair. He held his pen like a dagger at her face, teeth exposing in a grimace.
"Absolutely not. We will not make another plague, no matter how desperate the situation gets. I will not stain my hands with such foul research either."
Diana held up her hands. "Very well. I understand your reluctance."
"Disgust is more appropriate a word, but the point has been made."
Nikon leaned against the window frame, sighing as he breathed out another puff of smoke. "…Diana?"
"Hmm? Yes doctor?"
"You were in the guard, were you not?"
Diana nodded. "Yes, I was a captain before being transferred to you. I always wanted to be a doctor, but refrained such things due to my womanhood."
"Ah, yes, and that would attract unsavory glances from the backwards idiots in the Abbey, yes."
"Why are you curious, doctor?"
Nikon put out his cigarette on the frame, a habit that had already marred it considerably with ash and burn stains, and put his hands in his pockets. "I realize I am not the most…charismatic person to work under, for lack of a better term. I hold myself and those around me to a very high ideal, and I have proven to be…vain and aloof to others. I guess it is only natural I question why you tolerate such things instead of simply returning to your previous career."
"My previous career was looking pretty in a uniform and saluting when ordered," argued Diana cynically, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "My position was ceremonial at best, a monument to the 'growing tolerance' of society, but really a fabrication to appease bored housewives and tell their daughters about while scrubbing dishes."
Nikon let out a small chuckle. "Wow, and I thought I was critical of others."
"Not critical, honest," countered his assistant. She gave him a small smile. "So, to answer your question doctor, I work for you because it's actual work. It's challenging at times, yes, and dealing with you has proven to be akin to smacking oneself in the face with a shovel, but I have grown numb to it in time, and I daresay I wouldn't want to put the shovel down at this point."
"Well that's certainly good to hear, though the shovel analogy is troubling," murmured the surgeon. "Regardless, I am grateful you enjoy working at least in this lab, albeit not necessarily while I am in it as well."
He paused, hearing some commotion from outside the window. He glanced out, scanning the courtyard below facing the front of the building. He saw a squadron of High Judge Kalin's guards approach, led by a captain, walk up to the front door of the building.
"…something doesn't feel right…" whispered Nikon, a feeling of dread running down his spine.
He saw the guards in front of Kuznetsov's manor talk to the new arrivals, and both sides appeared to be getting consistently irritated with the other. It was at that moment Nikon noticed that Kalin's group was carrying weapons.
"Oh no…"
The captain of Kalin's group finally decided to skip the remainder of the formalities, pulling out his pistol and planting a slug right in the guard's forehead. The blast rang like a cacophonous funeral chime across the manor, Nikon feeling the shot in his very bones.
"Get down!" screamed Nikon as he dove under the table, immediately knocking over a tray of instruments.
"Doctor, what is it?!" asked Diana in a panic, startled by his sudden movements and shouting.
"Kalin's men are shooting! We have to get out of here!"
Diana nodded, still panicking but trying to think rationally. "Uh…the backdoor!"
"We're on the third floor! By the time we get there, we'll be surrounded and shot!"
The door to the laboratory opened, one of Kalin's guards stepping through. He was carrying a sword and a pistol, the second one being pointed at Nikon.
"Freeze!" ordered the man sternly.
Diana grabbed a nearby beaker and threw it at him.
The glass beaker slammed into his head, shattering it and cutting his face to ribbons as he roared in pain. He fired his pistol blindly into the air, planting a bullet in the ceiling and raining chunks of dust onto them.
Nikon tackled him and got him to the floor, punching him repeatedly in the face. The man blocked one of his punches with his forearm and punched right back, knocking Nikon off and sending him sprawling.
The guard got onto one knee and lunged with his sword.
The surgeon fell away from the blade just in time to avoid getting skewered, but his lab coat got caught as the blade embedded itself into a nearby bookshelf, pinning him in place.
The guard let go of his sword and backed away, reloading his pistol as quickly as he could.
Nikon grabbed his lab coat in both hands and yanked as hard as he could, shredding it into pieces and freeing him. He threw the tattered cloth at the guard's face, obscuring his sight and giving the surgeon a precious few seconds to think of a way to survive.
"Diana, bottle!" shouted the surgeon.
Diana grabbed the nearest glass container, tossing it to him across the table. Nikon glanced at the glass of alcohol antiseptic, noting how it was almost completely full, and grinned. This would do perfectly.
He uncorked the top, waited a second, then slammed his hand down onto the opening to act as a pseudo-lid.
Immediately, the bottle jerked downward in his hand, creating a small pocket of void at the bottom of the bottle. The alcohol inside eventually caught up with the glass and careened into the void with remarkable voice, hitting the seam where the sides and bottom of the glass had been melted into place, the weakest part of the bottle. The bottom flew clean off and poured the liquid all over the carpet, leaving a deadly bladed glass in his hand.
The guard just managed to remove the cloth from around his eyes when Nikon lunged at him, stabbing him clean in the throat with the jagged glass. The guard gargled on his blood as he cried out, but the surgeon was already on him, plunging the glass again and again into the man's neck, slamming him into the opposite wall as he worked him over.
Nikon left the glass in the man's throat as he sank to the floor, blood soaked into his white lab coat and black undershirt. He was panting heavily, slightly trembling.
"Doctor…?" whispered Diana slightly fearfully.
He turned, before wiping the blood from his face. "It's fine, Diana. I've done this before, after all."
He ripped the man's sword out of the bookshelf, grabbing his gun as well and handing it to his assistant. "I'm assuming you remember how to use this, right?"
Diana nodded, reloading the gun properly and sliding a few spare bullets into her lab coat. "We cannot take all of those men on, doctor. There's only two of us."
"Obviously," grunted Nikon cleaning the sword on his sleeve. "We can't go downstairs, and we only have the roof to go to."
He paused, an idea springing into his head. "There's an apartment complex nearby, right? There's a small street between it, right?"
"Yes," replied Diana, then her eyes widened. "Doctor, that's a ten-foot gap. You're not an acrobat."
"I am today, as I'm not a one-man army," argued the surgeon.
"Doctor, I'm not an acrobat."
Nikon glanced at her skeptically. "If the options are dying or jumping, what would you pick?"
"Either seems disadvantageous when both can lead to death."
"Well you can ruminate over which option you'd rather pick while I get to the roof."
Nikon entered the hallway, looking down over the edge of the door to make sure it was empty. He quickly moved down the hall, keeping low to the ground with his sword out in front of him. He barely glanced beside him, noting Diana was following him.
"Decided to defy death?" asked the surgeon blandly.
"Not the time for sarcasm, doctor," snapped Diana mildly annoyed. "I have to watch your back, after all."
Nikon smirked. "Fair enough."
They moved towards the ladder to the roof, noting how there were two guards standing near it. The surgeon cursed, hiding his body behind a corner.
"Shit…we have to fight," snapped the surgeon.
Diana nodded, cocking the pistol. "I'll take one of them out. You charge the second."
Nikon gave a thumb-ups to approve. "Fine then, let's go."
The two moved in unison, the surgeon sprinting down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him, his assistant aiming carefully and pulling the trigger.
The two guards jumped as the bullet smashed into a nearby vase, before noticing the surgeon charging them.
"You suck!" shouted Nikon back over his shoulder, swinging at the first guard in an overhand chop.
The guard dodged the strike and swung with his sword, only a quick step from the surgeon preventing it from slicing open his chest.
The second leveled his pistol at Nikon, but the surgeon backhanded the gun out of the man's grip, releasing another deafening blast through the building as the bullet released hit a window and shattered the glass.
Nikon slashed the second guard in the stomach with his sword, splitting open his stomach and sending his intestines spilling out onto the floor in a waterfall of gore.
"Holy shit!" exclaimed the first guard horrified.
Nikon tackled him into the nearby wall, stepping back to swing at his neck. The guard blocked the attack with his sword, his reflexes far faster than his comrade. He roared in anger and swung upwards like a golf club, hitting the surgeon right in the arm and knocking the sword clean out of his hand.
"Fuck!" shouted Nikon grabbing his arm, backing up as the guard took advantage of his injury and began slashing at him wildly. He was backed into a wall, eyes widening in panic.
The surgeon dropped to the ground, sliding both of his legs out as fast as they can go and hitting the guard in the knees. The guard hit the ground hard, groaning pain but keeping his sword in hand. He lunged at the surgeon, the blade glistening in the afternoon light.
Nikon barely evaded the attack, the sword cutting across his temple and sending blood gushing down the side of his face. He grabbed the man with both arms, the two of them rolling around on the floor and trying to be the one on top.
"Fucking asshole!" roared the guard.
"Rude!" snapped the surgeon, finally deciding he had enough of this fight. He dove forward with his teeth, chomping down hard on the man's face and shredding his cheek into nothing.
The guard screamed in pain and elbowed him in the stomach, scrambling to his feet while Nikon held his belly in agony.
Then Diana fired her pistol, blowing the guard's head clean off.
Nikon stood up, panting and holding his stomach. "Couldn't…have done that…sooner…?"
"Didn't want to hit you," argued his assistant. "And you're welcome."
"Yes, yes, thank you. Now come on, they definitely heard that commotion."
Nikon grabbed the man's pistol, noting how the first guard was barely alive, on his side bleeding and holding his intestines in with his hands.
The surgeon glanced at the injury, noting how it was definitely lethal even with immediate medical assistance.
Nikon twirled his sword in his hand, before plunging it clean through the man's head via left eye socket. The man immediately stopped moving, Nikon withdrawing the sword streaked with brain matter.
"Best not to let you suffer," reasoned the surgeon wiping the blade clean.
He paused, hearing a variety of footsteps coming from the nearby stairwell. "Damn, they move fast."
He climbed the ladder two rungs at a time, helping Diana up as she climbed after him. They ran to the edge of the roof, noting the distance between the manor and the abandoned apartment building close by, and more importantly the distance between their current position and the ground.
"Oh crap, I can't do this," whispered Diana terrified.
"Well best you get over that, because those men behind us are quite angry," stated Nikon. He took several deep breathes, then sprinted off the edge.
The surgeon slammed clean through an empty window and landing on hard floor, groaning in pain as his pounding headache got worse and worse. The blood from his head wound was now beginning to leak into his eye and making it far more difficult to see or perceive distance, and so Diana was more of a blur on the other roof when he glanced back.
"Come on Diana, goddamn it!" he shouted. "You've done far stupider things than this with much less hesitation!"
Suddenly voices shouted from behind the assistant, Diana turning in fear. "Doctor, they're on the roof!"
"Jump, now!" commanded Nikon sternly.
Diana took several steps back to prepare herself, but a crossbow bolt slammed clean into her right leg. She screamed in pain, clutching at the black metal rod in her calf. "Doctor! Go!"
Nikon smashed his fist into the window frame, teeth gritted hard enough to make them ache. "Diana! I will find you! Keep yourself alive!"
"You too doctor, now go!"
The guards overtook her then, the assistant desperately trying to fight them off to no avail. Some of them noticed Nikon and fired at him, but the surgeon was already moving away from the window.
"You stupid…" whispered Nikon, before groaning in frustration. "I have to find her and get her back. I'm nothing without my assistant."
He heard noises coming from behind a door, leveling his pistol at it with shaking hands. He could hardly hit anything accurately, but even at this range he could hit a human target.
Two people charged into the room, stopping dead upon seeing his gun. One of them, the man, held up his hands, while the woman did not, aiming her pistol right back at him.
"Whoa, just relax buddy," stated the man calmly. "No need to go crazy."
"Yeah, relax," ordered the woman with a voice like steel. "Else I'll put a hole in your head."
Nikon took a few breathes, debated his options, then lowered his gun. He felt himself getting lightheaded, realizing that the cut from earlier had clearly been deeper than he had anticipated.
"You're not…Kalin…" whispered the surgeon.
"No, we're not," spoke the man reassuringly. "You from Kuznetsov's manor? That means you're a witness."
"Yeah…they started shooting…my assistant…I have to…find her…"
Nikon collapsed against an end table, the two of them grabbing him by the arms and helping him up.
"Easy killer, not a good time for rescuing princesses," spoke the woman with a steel edge to her voice. "We got to get you to a doctor."
Nikon decided mentioning that he was technically a surgeon was unneeded, especially because he was focusing solely on not passing out. His vision began to darken, the surgeon noting how he was not only going into shock but was beginning to lose consciousness.
"Oh crap…" murmured the surgeon before completely blacking out.