Chapter 5: Bloodthirsty Doctor
The two assassins regained consciousness slowly, awareness returning like drowning in reverse, but their bodies wouldn't respond.
They were in complete paralysis. Yet they could still feel the air moving around them, could still perceive everything. Their minds screamed against the prison of their own flesh.
Fear flooded through them. And they knew there was no escape.
Wayne wielded a scalpel with practiced grace, mechanical tentacles writhing behind him like something from ancient nightmares. Black-clad warriors surrounded them, Wayne's enforcers, each one a formidable soldier, professional killers in service to a professional killer.
"Where did you come from?" Wayne studied them with genuine curiosity. "I'm interested in this. If money doesn't move you, then what does? And dont you dare say it's loyalty, or you'll be in hell before I ask again."
One assassin realized his mouth still functioned. He spoke quickly, desperate to buy time. "We saw you giving benefits to the common people. We thought you'd gone soft, become weak. Some of us wanted to kill you and take your position."
Wayne cleaned his hands methodically. "Interesting choice of words. But it's a lie."
He didn't interrogate them further. He didn't need to. The Wayne Group's systems monitored everyone and everything. Wayne could input their faces and deduce the mastermind; the billions of possibilities and probabilities were minute against the technology of this time.
It was better to kill a hundred innocents than let one guilty person escape.
The black-clad warriors turned away, unable to watch. Adelaine swallowed hard as she felt the drop in atmosphere visibly. Everyone in the room felt it, the shift in Wayne's presence, the moment he transformed.
Because Wayne was Nostramo's Bloodthirsty Doctor. A ruthless madman in a civilized suit.
Konrad truly understood then why these battle-hardened soldiers feared their master. Not his position. Not his wealth. But his raw, insatiable capability for cruelty.
Wayne was the best aristocratic capitalist this world had ever seen in millennia. At least he treated common people as human beings, although in the status of slaves, he rarely persecuted them, only squeezing them until they could barely survive. He established welfare programs: healthcare and education under the Wayne Group were almost free. He invested generously in infrastructure, rarely failing to ensure the safety and security of his territory.
Because the Wayne Group's security department functioned as Nostramo's only real police force, handling criminal matters that would otherwise go unanswered.
But have no doubt, Marshall Wayne could do terrible things. Magnificent, horribly incomprehensible things.
Wayne lowered himself over the first assassin, scalpel steady in his hand. He cut with surgical precision, separating skin, blood vessels, and muscle with methodical care. The paralytic made sure to keep the man conscious for every moment while enhancing his nerve activity.
Then Wayne exposed the nerve endings, thin, vital threads running through flesh, and selected one with tweezers.
The assassin's hand moved unnaturally, spasming. Agony detonated through his entire body. Every nerve ending would be found, located, and slowly necrotized, an never-ending execution conducted with the precision of a master's hand.
"Konrad, my father was a doctor, you know that," Wayne spoke while he worked, his voice clinical. "He saved lives, many lives. I should have done the same. But I discovered medical skills can be repurposed, and in the wake of my awakening, it becomes a tool for tormenting souls." He paused, adjusting his grip on the tweezers. "Come closer. I'll teach you."
He wasn't just an efficiently ruthless noble. He was his father's heir; Thomas Wayne's medical knowledge lived on, but twisted just a little in his words. Instead of healing, it became a method for precise execution.
The Primarch watched his father work, and pity flickered in his dark eyes. Not for the assassin, but for Wayne, for Wayne who could have been.
He hoped Wayne would stop, not for the criminal's sake, but for his father's because Konrad could feel the sorrow radiating from Wayne's core. Thomas had taught his son medicine piece by piece, moment by moment, to save lives. Now everything was inverted. The knowledge remained perfect, but the purpose had been reversed.
Konrad felt sadness settle into him like winter.
"You don't want me to do this?" Wayne stopped mid-cut and looked at his son calmly. "I maintain this territory with an extremely low crime rate. I've built hospitals and academies. In your eyes, is that not order?"
"Yes...It is"
"That's only what you see, Konrad." Wayne set down his scalpel carefully. "To maintain my rule, I've executed people cruelly, almost on an industrial level. I've publicly livestreamed vivisections. I've sewn a dozen corpses together and hung them from the city's high towers to rot."
Wayne's voice remained even, factual. "I slaughtered the gang that murdered my parents. I personally punished anyone who defied my rules. Only after I killed thousands of thugs and burned an uncountable number of bodies did people realize my orders were not to be broken, that they couldn't challenge my rule."
"Father?" Konrad managed to whisper.
"Is this order, Konrad?" Wayne's eyes met his son's, searching. "Is this what you want me to teach you?"
"Yes."
"NO." Wayne drew the scalpel swiftly across the assassin's heart, ending it quickly, then turned away. His hands and face were streaked with blood. He faced Konrad with the weight of confession. "This isn't justice, and absolutely not an order. This is oppression and fear."
Konrad pushed back. "Your territory is peaceful and stable. Better than any other region on Nostramo. How is that not order?"
Wayne gestured for his warriors to dispose of the meat trash. Adelaine moved immediately to comply.
Then Wayne fixed his attention on the remaining assassin, who immediately lowered his head, praying he wouldn't be next.
"I rule through violence," Wayne said. "Through fear. And then what, Konrad? People obey because they're terrified of what I'll do. But when I'm gone? Order collapses instantly, like a building that takes months to make but moments to crumble. This is not a real order. It's just violence wearing a mask of civility, pretending to be peace."
Wayne looked at the remaining assassin, then stopped. He didn't signal Adelaine to execute him. Instead, he paused, thinking that he needed to break this cycle in some way, and he realized the moment was now.
Wayne set down the scalpel and picked up a tissue to wipe his hands. He approached Konrad slowly and squatted to meet his son's eyes.
"Why do it, then, you ask? Because I cannot teach them mercy, Konrad. I can only be more evil, more ruthless than they are, and call it justice. But that's just violence dressed up in prettier words. That's just self-satisfaction." Wayne's voice dropped. "In truth, I'm like a psychopath, albeit with feelings for some."
Konrad reached out and touched his father's cheek. He opened his mouth but found no words.
"How do you think this assassin should be judged?" Wayne's voice softened. "Think, Konrad. Tell me what you believe."
Konrad had meant to use his precognitive powers to find the best path forward. But he still couldn't see Wayne's future; his father remained invisible to the Warp. So instead, Konrad followed his heart.
"A public and humane trial."
"Very well." Wayne nodded and patted his head. "A public trial tomorrow. You've grown up, Konrad. If you want to build real order, you must follow your own principles, not mine."
"Mhm."
"My medical methods and knowledge will be yours to use. You can wield them to instill fear, to deter enemies. Or you can use them to heal and save lives." Wayne stood and offered his hand. "Power and wisdom are double-edged. Your choice determines which side cuts."
"Choice?" Konrad took his father's hand. Wayne had always let him choose. Always trusted him like a true father.
"Always. After all, I'm your father. No matter what trouble finds you, no matter what pursues you in the future, I can help you resolve it. Believe in a better future, Konrad, and let me handle the dark things."
Wayne stood and yawned, as if the weight of blood and death could simply be shed like clothes. "Come on. Let's get some late-night food and rest. We've earned it."
He looked to Adelaine. "Take him to the prison, Adelaine. Tomorrow, publicly reveal his crimes and execute him with gentler methods. No need for theaterics. Just... an end."
"Understood, Master."
Wayne led Konrad by the hand toward a clean area of the Library, away from blood and machinery. The boy's hunger was returning now, body and mind reasserting their needs.
But Konrad's mind remained elsewhere. He realized Wayne had secrets beyond what he'd shown. How had his father known what crimes these assassins had committed? The man clearly had surveillance systems, intelligence networks, and ways of seeing that Konrad didn't yet understand.
And given Wayne's nature, he wouldn't simply let the mastermind walk free. There had to be other plans in motion, other pieces being moved in the darkness.
Konrad didn't ask, though partly because he was hungry partly because he understood: some knowledge his father would share when the time was right.
For now, it was enough to walk beside him and trust.
[End of Chapter]
Hope you are loving it till now, and that you do in the future, too.
Now, aside from that, can we talk about the cover for this fanfic? (Image here ->)
I just want to say that there were many images on Pinterest that gave Aura vibes, but nothing, I mean, nothing, gave the Aura of Life and Dominance as this image does.
I want to say whoever drew this made a masterpiece, and that's why I think this image suits Wayne's character better, even though Wayne is in his 50s and clearly not at that age to look like that.
But that's from me, what about YOU? Do you have anything that matches Wayne's Vibe?