Musings of a World Class Surgeon - The Arrival and Return
Aug 12, 2015 4:24:15 GMT
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Post by Dr. Tommy Elliot on Aug 12, 2015 4:24:15 GMT
16,000 feet in the air, private jet, a bottle of Hors d'âge French Cognac; when you’re The World Class Surgeon there were few things that money could not buy. Having a majority stake in Gotham’s press publication, The Gotham Gazette certainly didn’t hurt things either I had to admit.
With a grin, I reclined in his chair with a glass of Cognac, with the latest edition of The Gotham Gazette in my lap as the jet would soon be closing in on Gotham airspace. Why exactly did I decide to take time away from my busy schedule one might ask? Bruce Wayne, my dear old friend… how I wish he would die of a heart attack sooo badly.
Sipping on the Cognac, I felt alive. It was times like this where I could truly relax did I feel at ease. My slate is one that is always full to the brim. Normally at my practice I would be booked 4 months in advance giving the people exactly what their heart desired. If the insurance was top notch or especially if the patient had money to spare I would take last minute bookings; to me it didn’t matter whether it was plastic surgery or a lifesaving operation. With my gift I had the very power over life and death itself, the operation room was MY domain. Whenever little Timmy would burst through the patient’s room or Grandma Betty gave me a kiss on the cheek for saving her geriatric husband; it’s because my hand allowed it. People adore a hero, they love to cheer for him and their failures and successes become their own… but everyone worships a God.
Yet despite all the good I have allowed to grace this country and the world at large there was one spectre I could never fully stomp out… Bruce Wayne. You see my dear friend and I were extremely close when we were growing up together. We were inseparable you could say and yet he was the one born with the silver spoon while I was allowed to suffer! His mother was a charming and kind woman and Dr. Wayne… why he’s the reason why I pursued medicine; I idolized him. My father… may he rot in the hell… actually, no. Roger Elliot was a terrible man, a drunk. All I ever wanted was to be accepted like Bruce was to his parents and yet… Roger beat me.
See, unlike that piece of human garbage I know my limits… and to drink to excess would wreak havoc on your liver and impair your judgment; but he didn’t. Every night when he came home he would drink, and drink, and drink, and drink, and drink. And then he would BEAT me! My worthless mother… Alice would do nothing, she was probably happy that I took the abuse instead of her for once. Or maybe… maybe she simply didn’t care as she pursued her own vices, clutched in the throes of narcotics. She would sing lullabies in her narcotic haze… ‘Hush little baby’… oh how I detest that little nursery rhyme. Bruce was lucky… he truly had it all; he had what would have been mine all along!
So one day, I decided to take my fate into my own hands… I decided that enough was enough; Roger and Alice had to die. One day I cut the brake line… very similar to how I use a scalpel to cut human flesh to work my gift. It was so painless, or so I thought.
Roger perished. The police assumed he was driving drunk with his astronomical blood alcohol reading; something I personally accounted for to make the entire thing look like one big ‘accident’. Roger was unable to gain control of the vehicle as he barreled down the street. My prayers had been answered, and all it took was realizing the great power I had… my superior intellect. But just as soon as felt the shackles finally relinquish their hold… I felt them snap back on!
Dr. Wayne… I suppose I can’t blame him too much. He took an oath to help others and do no harm… he was mandated to perform emergency surgery on Alice and despite my righteous act of justice… she managed to escape her fate.
But Dr. Wayne understood my plight, he knew I was robbed from having the perfect parents that a child could ask for, he knew that I dearly needed loving care and respect. I don’t think Bruce liked that very much, especially when I began to torment him. Dr. Wayne wouldn’t let him fight back… he took my side!
Perhaps in an alternate reality the tables would have been reversed and I would grow up to be a very different man… perhaps in that reality Alice does perish as intended… and Dr. Wayne takes me under his wing instead of Bruce. But just as my life was beginning to turn for the better; since Alice was doped up worse than ever I was declared the controller of my family’s estate as an early Christmas present… I was in control of my own destiny; but fate had to take Dr. and Mrs. Wayne away from me!
Bruce never knew how good his life was… he never appreciated them! He took it for granted, having been born with a silver spoon to such a loving family and it made me sick! …even to this day it makes my stomach twist and turn into knots. It was Bruce’s selfish nature that lead to their deaths… had they stayed for the performance they would be alive and here! All the press, all the city of Gotham could care about was “The Tragedy of the Wayne Family” and Bruce’s meteoric rise as some kind of prodigy… what about My Plight?
I slammed my fist upon the arm rest as I picked up the Gotham Gazette.
When he was pronounced dead years ago, I finally felt free. I thought I had found peace when I kept Alice alive long past her shelf life until cancer rightfully claimed her… making her suffer was just enough after she cheated death the first time but when Bruce was ‘dead’? I felt a great weight lifted off my shoulders… that the universe had some kind of grand scheme in place to finally pay me reparations for my unjust upbringing. I was truly the master of my own fate then and there and I made sure to fill the void he had left in the media with myself… The God Medicine that brought hope to countless patients. I already had a very, very healthy media presence and the fact that I could manage to steal his spotlight when he was living… oh it had to drive him nuts. Yet… he had the nerve, the nerve to shill his self-serving agenda on my newspaper after disappearing and faking his own death?
I was not going to stand for that… I had to make this emergency flight and I was going to upstage this man at every turn… make him a footnote to me… just like all those years ago when I was cast in his shadow. I have worked too hard and too long to see everything I have painstakingly worked for be overshadowed by this sociopathic bachelor! I knew exactly how I was going to go about it… and in one fell swoop I will dominate the headlines with a humble and necessary gift to the city of Gotham. Richard Greyson? He would be wise to look up to Dr. Elliot as his new hero, for giving him a new lease on life after he too was so tragically robbed; Bruce Wayne was a weasel in billionaire’s clothing.
“We’re now approaching Gotham Municipal Airport, Doctor Elliot.” The pilot chimed in over the PA system inside the jet.
“Excellent!”
“The limo is waiting for you just outside the airport; it’ll take you straight to Wayne Manor.” The pilot once again spoke. Oh how it has been too long since I’ve visited one of my old stomping grounds.
“Thank you, if there’s anything I could do for you while I’m in town, please don’t hesitate to ask.” I responded back with charm and charisma oozing out of the very words I spoke. Unlike Bruce Wayne, I am genuine gentleman and for providing me such a necessary, crucial service? It was the least I could do for him.
“Actually, Dr. Elliot. If it isn’t too much to ask I wouldn’t mind having some of the food put in a doggy bag from the reception. The wife and I always wondered if that fancy crap was the real deal or just overpriced, overly processed garbage.” The pilot responded almost hesitantly. He didn’t want to impose on the good Doctor.
“Absolutely! Bruce is an old friend of mine, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I brought some back for you and your lovely wife.” As much as I hated Bruce, I had to play it off like we’re old chums. It would make it that much easier to ruin him later.
“Thank you very much Dr. Elliot, that’s very gracious of you.”
“Nonsense, the pleasure is all mine.” And the pleasure would be all mine… I just had to get to Wayne Manor first.
With a grin, I reclined in his chair with a glass of Cognac, with the latest edition of The Gotham Gazette in my lap as the jet would soon be closing in on Gotham airspace. Why exactly did I decide to take time away from my busy schedule one might ask? Bruce Wayne, my dear old friend… how I wish he would die of a heart attack sooo badly.
Sipping on the Cognac, I felt alive. It was times like this where I could truly relax did I feel at ease. My slate is one that is always full to the brim. Normally at my practice I would be booked 4 months in advance giving the people exactly what their heart desired. If the insurance was top notch or especially if the patient had money to spare I would take last minute bookings; to me it didn’t matter whether it was plastic surgery or a lifesaving operation. With my gift I had the very power over life and death itself, the operation room was MY domain. Whenever little Timmy would burst through the patient’s room or Grandma Betty gave me a kiss on the cheek for saving her geriatric husband; it’s because my hand allowed it. People adore a hero, they love to cheer for him and their failures and successes become their own… but everyone worships a God.
Yet despite all the good I have allowed to grace this country and the world at large there was one spectre I could never fully stomp out… Bruce Wayne. You see my dear friend and I were extremely close when we were growing up together. We were inseparable you could say and yet he was the one born with the silver spoon while I was allowed to suffer! His mother was a charming and kind woman and Dr. Wayne… why he’s the reason why I pursued medicine; I idolized him. My father… may he rot in the hell… actually, no. Roger Elliot was a terrible man, a drunk. All I ever wanted was to be accepted like Bruce was to his parents and yet… Roger beat me.
See, unlike that piece of human garbage I know my limits… and to drink to excess would wreak havoc on your liver and impair your judgment; but he didn’t. Every night when he came home he would drink, and drink, and drink, and drink, and drink. And then he would BEAT me! My worthless mother… Alice would do nothing, she was probably happy that I took the abuse instead of her for once. Or maybe… maybe she simply didn’t care as she pursued her own vices, clutched in the throes of narcotics. She would sing lullabies in her narcotic haze… ‘Hush little baby’… oh how I detest that little nursery rhyme. Bruce was lucky… he truly had it all; he had what would have been mine all along!
So one day, I decided to take my fate into my own hands… I decided that enough was enough; Roger and Alice had to die. One day I cut the brake line… very similar to how I use a scalpel to cut human flesh to work my gift. It was so painless, or so I thought.
Roger perished. The police assumed he was driving drunk with his astronomical blood alcohol reading; something I personally accounted for to make the entire thing look like one big ‘accident’. Roger was unable to gain control of the vehicle as he barreled down the street. My prayers had been answered, and all it took was realizing the great power I had… my superior intellect. But just as soon as felt the shackles finally relinquish their hold… I felt them snap back on!
Dr. Wayne… I suppose I can’t blame him too much. He took an oath to help others and do no harm… he was mandated to perform emergency surgery on Alice and despite my righteous act of justice… she managed to escape her fate.
But Dr. Wayne understood my plight, he knew I was robbed from having the perfect parents that a child could ask for, he knew that I dearly needed loving care and respect. I don’t think Bruce liked that very much, especially when I began to torment him. Dr. Wayne wouldn’t let him fight back… he took my side!
Perhaps in an alternate reality the tables would have been reversed and I would grow up to be a very different man… perhaps in that reality Alice does perish as intended… and Dr. Wayne takes me under his wing instead of Bruce. But just as my life was beginning to turn for the better; since Alice was doped up worse than ever I was declared the controller of my family’s estate as an early Christmas present… I was in control of my own destiny; but fate had to take Dr. and Mrs. Wayne away from me!
Bruce never knew how good his life was… he never appreciated them! He took it for granted, having been born with a silver spoon to such a loving family and it made me sick! …even to this day it makes my stomach twist and turn into knots. It was Bruce’s selfish nature that lead to their deaths… had they stayed for the performance they would be alive and here! All the press, all the city of Gotham could care about was “The Tragedy of the Wayne Family” and Bruce’s meteoric rise as some kind of prodigy… what about My Plight?
I slammed my fist upon the arm rest as I picked up the Gotham Gazette.
When he was pronounced dead years ago, I finally felt free. I thought I had found peace when I kept Alice alive long past her shelf life until cancer rightfully claimed her… making her suffer was just enough after she cheated death the first time but when Bruce was ‘dead’? I felt a great weight lifted off my shoulders… that the universe had some kind of grand scheme in place to finally pay me reparations for my unjust upbringing. I was truly the master of my own fate then and there and I made sure to fill the void he had left in the media with myself… The God Medicine that brought hope to countless patients. I already had a very, very healthy media presence and the fact that I could manage to steal his spotlight when he was living… oh it had to drive him nuts. Yet… he had the nerve, the nerve to shill his self-serving agenda on my newspaper after disappearing and faking his own death?
NO!
I was not going to stand for that… I had to make this emergency flight and I was going to upstage this man at every turn… make him a footnote to me… just like all those years ago when I was cast in his shadow. I have worked too hard and too long to see everything I have painstakingly worked for be overshadowed by this sociopathic bachelor! I knew exactly how I was going to go about it… and in one fell swoop I will dominate the headlines with a humble and necessary gift to the city of Gotham. Richard Greyson? He would be wise to look up to Dr. Elliot as his new hero, for giving him a new lease on life after he too was so tragically robbed; Bruce Wayne was a weasel in billionaire’s clothing.
“We’re now approaching Gotham Municipal Airport, Doctor Elliot.” The pilot chimed in over the PA system inside the jet.
“Excellent!”
“The limo is waiting for you just outside the airport; it’ll take you straight to Wayne Manor.” The pilot once again spoke. Oh how it has been too long since I’ve visited one of my old stomping grounds.
“Thank you, if there’s anything I could do for you while I’m in town, please don’t hesitate to ask.” I responded back with charm and charisma oozing out of the very words I spoke. Unlike Bruce Wayne, I am genuine gentleman and for providing me such a necessary, crucial service? It was the least I could do for him.
“Actually, Dr. Elliot. If it isn’t too much to ask I wouldn’t mind having some of the food put in a doggy bag from the reception. The wife and I always wondered if that fancy crap was the real deal or just overpriced, overly processed garbage.” The pilot responded almost hesitantly. He didn’t want to impose on the good Doctor.
“Absolutely! Bruce is an old friend of mine, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I brought some back for you and your lovely wife.” As much as I hated Bruce, I had to play it off like we’re old chums. It would make it that much easier to ruin him later.
“Thank you very much Dr. Elliot, that’s very gracious of you.”
“Nonsense, the pleasure is all mine.” And the pleasure would be all mine… I just had to get to Wayne Manor first.
