#3
The day went by, and the night soon took hold of this side of the world. Everyone did their necessities, and soon the lights were off, and the children went to sleep almost immediately. Except for me, for I have commitments to attend to.
Stealthily getting up, I fished out a sleek black briefcase and went to the hall. There are no security cameras yet, for we can't afford them, so I'm not worried about being caught. Anyway, once in the hall, I opened the briefcase to reveal some clothing, a big worn brown leather satchel, and two glass vials resembling the typical potion bottle. Taking off my clothes and neatly folding them, I took one of the potions, a red one, and drank it all at once.
The effects were almost immediate, with some deep feeling inside my body building up... Not really; I went through a metamorphosis just like Mystique in the movies, the difference being that it'll be permanent until I take the other potion, this one blue, to get back to my original form.
Anyway, I started dressing myself, and soon I was not Victor Crane; I was Dr. V, and, only this once, I'll tell you how I look.
I'm now an imposing figure, looking all mysterious and shit. I don a long, nondescript black trench coat that flows with an almost ghostly grace as I move, putting Severus Snape to shame. I also have a wide-brimmed hat that casts a shadow over my face, obscuring it further from prying eyes, in honor of the great V. The pièce de résistance, however, is the mask—sleek, sophisticated, and impenetrable. It covers my entire face, leaving only my sharp, beautiful eyes visible through narrow slits, looking cold as hell. This thing's a marvel of my own design; it's matte black with intricate, almost imperceptible patterns etched into the surface.
Beneath the coat, I'm wearing a fitted, high-collared suit, tailored to perfection and reinforced with hidden layers of protective materials because drip maketh man. My gloves, always impeccably clean, are designed for precision, whether I'm performing a delicate surgery or assembling a complex device. Even my boots are customized, providing silent but firm footing on any surface, Black Panther style.
All in all, I look sexy as hell. It took me a lot of effort to work the outfit out; thankfully, I had a little help. Anyway, I stored my other clothes inside the briefcase and hid it under a loose wooden floorboard. Now I'm ready to go outside and do some work.
As I exit the orphanage, I am met with a van, my van. From the outside, it looks like any other nondescript, slightly worn delivery van—a perfect disguise. Faded white paint, a few rust spots, and a couple of inconspicuous dents complete the look.
"Good evening, doctor," came a voice from beside me, a feminine one, and very monotonous.
Evelyn Black, or Nurse, is my dear assistant in everything I do while as Dr. V. She's a striking figure, always impeccably dressed in a tailored uniform that combines the practicality of a nurse's attire with the elegance of a high-class secretary. Her outfit is dark, matching mine, with subtle silver accents and a sleek, modern design. She wears a fitted blazer over a crisp shirt, and her skirt allows for ease of movement without sacrificing professionalism.
Her hair, jet black and neatly tied back, frames a face that is both stern and kind, capable of shifting from a reassuring smile to a look of cold indifference in a heartbeat. Her eyes, sharp and observant, miss nothing. Around her neck, a slim silver chain holds a small pendant—an emergency signal device crafted by moi. Evelyn's demeanor is calm and composed, her voice steady and soothing, offering a sense of stability and competence that puts even the most nervous clients at ease, which is very useful.
"Hello, my dear, how are you?" My voice is older and modulated so that they never know what I actually sound like.
She takes a small, high-tech tablet that she uses to manage my schedule, communicate with clients, and access vital information and browses through it.
"We have a few reservations for surgery, one single reservation for a crate with at least a hundred untraceable firearms, and a meeting with Mr. Cobblepot," she kindly informed me.
"Quite a busy night then," I said happily, opening the side door of the van.
As soon as the sliding door hisses open, I'm greeted by a sleek, sterilized interior. The walls are lined with custom-built cabinets and drawers, each labeled and organized with military precision—Evelyn's work, not mine. Stainless steel surfaces reflect the cool, blue LED lights that run along the ceiling, giving the whole space a satisfying glow. And yes, the thing is bigger on the inside, deal with it.
To the left, there's the lab, the place where I spit in the face of god and create some serious shit. It's compact but fully equipped with all the essentials—microscopes, centrifuges, and an array of gadgets I've designed myself. The workbench is clutter-free, with all my tools neatly arranged and within easy reach. Above it, shelves stocked with reagents, chemicals, and various vials hold the key to my more… experimental projects. Yeah, I'm evil, fuck you.
Straight ahead is the surgery area, put here because there's a lot of money to be made with mobsters that don't want to die with a bullet inside them. A state-of-the-art surgical table occupies the center, equipped with built-in restraints and adjustable for any angle or position. Overhead, a surgical lamp with adjustable intensity ensures I have perfect visibility for even the most delicate procedures. To the side, medical monitors and vital sign trackers keep me informed of a patient's status in real-time. Everything is sterilized and ready, from scalpels to sutures, all stored in autoclave drawers that keep them pristine.
To the right, there's the transportation and command section. Two ergonomic seats face the cockpit, where the latest navigation and surveillance technology is installed. I rarely stay there, leaving Evelyn all alone, but I think she doesn't care. The dashboard is a control center, with screens displaying live feeds from external cameras, GPS tracking, and a direct line to Nightingale's tablet. There's even a small compartment with emergency medical supplies and weapons, just in case things get rough.
Beneath the floor panels lies the heart of the van's modifications—advanced power systems and storage for sensitive equipment. The van runs on a hybrid engine I've customized for silent operation and maximum efficiency, ensuring we can move swiftly and undetected. Yeah, I care for the environment and the planet; what's wrong with that?
Anyway, getting inside, I let Evelyn take the wheel and lead us, as she knows best what to do in what order. So let's make some guns, shall we?
As Evelyn drove us to my first patient of the night, I stood in the lab section of my van. The soft hum of the van's hybrid engine provided a soothing backdrop as I prepared for the night's work. I think I'll wait till the surgery to play classical music; it's not about taste and more about theatrics.
I soon began the meticulous process of assembly. Each part was carefully crafted, designed to be both untraceable and reliable, my almost infinite storage of parts helping a lot. I picked up the barrel, examining it closely under the light, ensuring there were no imperfections, which there weren't, since it was me who made them.
With precision, I attached the barrel to the frame, securing it with custom-made screws. My fingers moved swiftly yet carefully, a dance honed by countless hours of work. The internal mechanisms followed, each piece fitting together seamlessly. The firing pin, the trigger assembly—every component was designed to avoid standard detection methods, crafted from materials that would not arouse suspicion.
Eventually, the first firearm was nearly complete, its matte black surface absorbing the blue light from above. I performed a final inspection, ensuring every part was flawless.
The second firearm followed, my hands moving with the confidence of experience. Within minutes, I had crafted a small arsenal, each piece a testament to my skill and ingenuity. I placed them in a specially designed crate, ensuring they were secure and undetectable.
"Doctor, we arrived at our first patient," Evelyn's voice cut through the quiet hum of the van.
"Perfect timing," I said, preparing for my favorite part of the night.