The Doctor's Husband

“Doctor Iplier! Bop’s bleeding!”

The doctor closed his book and tucked it away as Oliver and Bing ran in, holding the Simolian by his feet and armpits. Doctor chuckled and told them to set him down. Bing ran off to tell Google Prime (blue) he’d done his task, but Oliver stook around.

“Where are you bleeding, Bop?” he asked, pulling down a simple first aid box and turning. Bop was sitting up and rubbing his head after Bing dropped him so abruptly. There was an obvious nervousness to him that the Doctor was not having.

“Bop,” he said softly, moving so he was at eye level with the other. “Where are you bleeding? Blood?”

The Simolian looked at him oddly before speaking, “Paba. Ole-like joel. Burbin nerbs.”

“Maybe just point?”

Bop held up his hands to show thick slices through his palms. The doctor winced slightly as Bop simply mumbled, “Burbin nerbs, uh-uh.”

“He said it was broken glass,” Oliver chirped from the corner. “He’s in pain.”

“Thank you, Ollie,” Doc chuckled as he gently cleaned out the wounds and began to wrap them up. “Come check with me tomorrow, okay? We’ll look at them again, but I don’t believe you need stitches. Those boys are being so dramatic carrying you in here like that.” He helped Bop up, the singer turning to tell him “Badeesh”, Oliver translating it to a thanks before leading him out. Doctor walked back to pick up his book before he could hear Oliver, much softer, “Hello Doctor Schneeplestein!”

“Good morning, Oliver,” the other doctor said as he stepped inside the office. “I vill only be a moment, I vish to speak to a dear old friend of mine.”

Doctor turned as the German medic came in, hands on his sides. He was unfairly handsome in casual clothing while the other was washing blood off his hands.

“Hello Henrik.”

“Why so formal? Have you lost emotion in your new heart already?”

The Doctor touched his chest slightly when he was sure the other couldn’t see, turning away. He subconsciously scratched at the stitches before asking, “What do you want?”

“I only wished to zee my little love.” The taller man spun him around with a sickeningly sweet smile, one that made the doctor’s stolen heart race.

“I’m sorry, but..”
“Don’t tell me. I’m dying?”
“Sir your heart is giving out on you. I suggest-”
“I don’t give a FUCK what you suggest, Iplier!”

“Edward! What has happened to you?!”
“A patient.. Didn’t like the… Thought of dying..”
“So he stabbed you in ze heart?!”
“Please help me..”

“Edward… Wake up, darling..”
“Are you awake?”
“… Hurts…”
“You vill live, my love.”
“.. Why do you.. Keep calling… Me that?”
“Are you not my love? We are married, no?”
“I vill explain later. Rest.”

Schneeplestein had saved his life by giving him a stolen heart, but would only let him keep the heart of the other ego married him. As long as there were no name changes or legal difficulties, why give up his life? So yes, technically he was looking at his husband. But that didn’t mean he had to love him.

“I’m busy. Why don’t you bug Wilford?”

“If you insist, my love.”

The Foreman

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but whoever coined that particular bit of wisdom never reckoned with The Foreman.

Leader of the Underzone chapter of the Dark Legion, The Foreman is the current ruler of the Nerbs. Never heard of them? Few have; Nerbs are a distinctly odd race of Mobians whose biology doesn’t quite correspond to any existing species of Mobini. Given their poor eyesight and prodigious teeth, I can only hazard to guess they are some form of rodent (and I mean that literally in this case). The Nerbs are an anti-social and highly xenophobic race, doing everything in their power to remain out of contact with other races. I suspect that they are the source behind many legends of supernatural beings from the underground; dwarves, gnomes and goblins and the like. However, far from being fearsome creatures of the night, Nerbs are a deeply pathetic race of creatures whose only real virtue comes from their work ethic… and their natural desire for order.

The Freedom Fighters once encountered the Nerbs many years ago, back in the days when they were little more than meddling children playing at being heroes. Despite helping to rescue the Nerb’s king from my digging machines, the Nerbs proved quite ungrateful to the Freedom Fighters… and far more receptive to MY kind of order. Further observation revealed them to be among the most close-minded and structure obsessed beings on the face of the planet, who embraced conformity above all else. And yet even in this little worker’s paradise, there was dissent among the ranks. It was easy for me to realize that Foreman Newman, head of the kingdom’s mining operations, bitterly resented his king for the leadership he received while Newman actively oversaw production and expansion. With the king unpopular thanks to the encounter with the Freedom Fighters, it was easy for Newman to turn the majority of Nerbs against their ruler… and so, it was easy for me to convince Newman to pledge his people’s services to me.

Even before the Dark Legion became mine, the Nerb’s served my will; I didn’t even need to Roboticize them thanks to their natural work ethic and single-minded devotion to organization and rigidity. Ruling over them, Newman, now dubbing himself ‘The Foreman’, has directed their efforts towards enriching my empire with the vast mineral wealth of Mobius itself, though as of late a Freedom Fighter group amongst the Nerbs has sprung up to fight against The Foreman’s influence.

It’s every bit as absurd as it sounds, but so long as this pathetic little quarrel doesn’t affect production, I’ll leave the Nerbs be.

Now if only Newman would stop acting like some ridiculous parody of myself…