In the streets of Croatia walks a tall golem like woman in a cream colored trench coat, black boots, a waterproof fedora and a leather birdlike mask covering her face. She’s known as ‘The Plague Doctor’ while the superstitious call her ‘The Angel of Death’ while her real name remains unknown. She does not speak, she growls her words or taps her phrases using her wood cane and Morse code. Honing the title of ‘The Angel of Death’, she does not use weapons; weapons are much too primitive and lazy for her to use. Her hands are all she needs, they’re good enough weapons to kill. She walks from village to town to city to country nation to world, performing her duties. She either hunts what she sniffs or receives a call from the elder who assigns missions for her.
“Plague Doctor!” Called a voice behind her.
It was ‘The Envisioner’, standing near a water fountain with his shades blocking his dead eyes from the warm sun, his face looking pale and lifeless with scars and a rock formatted chin.
“Good to see yah. Now before you begin to growl like a dog I would love to say the elder ordered me to do this. I’ve brought you a little companion.” The Envisioner placed his suitcase on the floor, pressed the combination on the padlock and let the case open on it’s own. A short, thin boy crawled out of the case like a veteran contortionist.
“His name’s Eppopor; he’s familiar with our kind, speaks and translates 4,200 languages along with the outworld dialects and he adores mints.”
She tapped her can towards The Envisioner.
“Don’t worry, he works for peanuts. Literally, he works a pound of cashews!” He tapped Eppopor’s bald head, “He’s a talent. Look, say anything to him, he understands anything you say to him.”
She began to growl a question at Eppopor as he stood looking up and deciphering the growls.
“He asks, where did you find me Mr. Envisioner?” Reiterated Eppopor
“She’s a he young one. Good boy.” Said The Envisioner to Eppopor. “Os he a talent or what Plague?”
She taps her cane once again, asking questions and wanting to know more.
“The Elder did receive blueprints for a voice box mechanism, he says his people would take months till it would be fully operational and ready for you. Until then, you’ll have to make do with Eppopor. Have fun you two!”
Both the Plague Doctor and Eppopor waved goodbye and walked away.
-In Marina Kastela-
Both the plague doctor and Eppopor stand in the alleyway near a white apartment building with a chipped paint embellished on the walls. Eppopor leaned near wood crates, watching the blue moon reflect on the black waters in front of him. The plague doctor tapped her cane for Eppopor; she removes her hat and cream trench coat and hands them to him. Her mask stands out as a black bird face with a pink armor made of flesh in black boots. She growls an order at Eppopor as he follows her inside the apartment. The inside looks almost like a retirement home full of dull colored wallpaper; two elderly men slept in front of the T.V showing a ‘no signal’ screen and a senile concierge who asked them if Eppopor and the plague doctor were here to collect ‘War Bonds’. Both Eppopor an the plague doctor traveled up the wood stairs, walking by the sounds of laughter and verbal assaults from the rooms within the thin walls.
Room 14B, here was the room in which the plague doctor’s target resided. She tapped Eppopor, he stood behind her and watched the plague doctor knock on the door.
The door opens and up front stands a curly haired man who becomes alarmed at the sight of the plague doctor. He reaches for his rifle until the plague doctor takes hold his right arm and begins to squeeze it and slowly turn his bone into pieces. Feelings of abnormal twitching began to cripple the curly haired man as he yelled in pain; his pain stopped as well as his heart. The Plague Doctor examines her surroundings, scanning every object in the messy room. A clean shaven man with thin eyes saw the plague doctor and Eppopor standing near his dead roommate. She begins to growlat the bald man who leaned his back onto the closed door behind him.
“Are you ‘Calcita? Calcita Menliv?” Asked Eppopor, rephrasing the plague doctor’s growls.
“Yes.” Said Calcita frightened at the scene before him.
The plague doctor neared Calcita, growled toward him and placed both her hands covering both sides of his face.
“She says this won’t hurt a bit.” Reiterated Eppopor.
A black beam of light began to emanate from Calcita’s forehead and absorbed into the plague doctor’s arms. Every last drop of light was dispened, Calcita fell to the floor like an empty rag doll.
Later that night, the plague doctor and Eppopor sat on the balcony of an abandoned cathedral that had been subject to graffiti and arson in the past, watching the sun barely arise from the horizon.
“What did you do to that man?” Asked Eppopor.
The plague doctor tapped her cane at him, then she pulled out a small leather-bound sack from her coat and tossed it towards Eppopor. He opened the leather sack to see that it was full of shining gold, to the plague doctor he earned that more than a sack of cashews.