•MPHFPC ONE SHOTS•

<=CLOSE CALL=>

[This takes place in LoS. It's a sort of alternate scene where Caul plans on removing Jacob's soul the painless way and it's written in Jacob's perspective :)]

I woke up, finding myself in a plain white room. Slowly, I moved my head and saw more plain white furniture on the side of the room—counters, cupboards and a chair. Something metallic on a counter seemed to be blinking at me and when I wanted to sit up, to see what it was, I was stopped by something keeping me down by my wrists and upper body. Lifting my head a little, I noticed restrains on me and another thing—I was dressed in a hospital gown. A wave of fear shot through me as I realised why I was here.

I tried to keep my fear at bay, which was almost impossible. Short, panicked thinking led to pointless decisions—I tried struggling my way out of the restraints, then wanted to use my legs somehow, only to notice they, too, were restrained. Realising that these attempts of escaping didn't work, I quietly told myself to calm down again and tried slowing my breathing. I concentrated on thinking of something smart, but kept getting interrupted by other thoughts—I'm going to get my soul stolen. Where are my friends? Does he already have their souls?

Then, finally, I had the idea of slowly and carefully wrenching my hands out of the restrains. They were really tight, but this seemed to be the only way.
I froze when I heard someone unlock the door and realised I wouldn't have made it out of here anyway. But maybe now. Now that the door was unlocked.
The person opening the door was not one of the nurses or doctors Emma and I saw when we got here, though. It was him, torn out of a nightmare I might have had while I was asleep. In an uncomfortably smooth, teasing voice, he said, "Apologies, I'm late. Did you sleep well?"

Why was he here? I lifted my head a little, so I could look at him a little better. "Where are your specialists? What do you want?" I asked him. This was giving me a bad feeling. He wants to watch, I thought. Of course, this sadistic asshole wants to watch.
Caul's grin broadened and he walked over to me. "Oh, they're not coming. They're currently having a break. Don't think I'm some cold-hearted employer, who forces them to work around the clock." he said and laughed a little. He leaned down, so that his face was above mine. "I thought I should perform the procedure myself. It would be an honour, you know?"

A chill went through me. Did I hear that right? I started struggling again, harder this time. I knew it was pointless, but it was the only thing I could think of doing in that moment. Caul straightened, shook his head and cackled at what I was doing. He snatched a white coat from a hook on a wall and put it on. Caul did that insanely slow, teasing me with his good mood. "Jacob, I think you're missing the fact that your sacrifice will contribute greatly to Peculiardom's bright future." he said, while his hands slipped into rubber gloves. Lastly he stretched the ends of them and let them snap back at his wrists and with every snap I became more certain that he was absolutely serious about this.

"What bright future?" I said, trying to sound more angry than scared. "You mean a time when you play God and have everyone wrapped around your fingers?" Meanwhile, Caul was over at the counter and telling from the sounds, he was probably arranging some surgical instruments.
"Well, you don't have to be so specific." Caul replied, cringing a little, because he knew I was right. But then he regained control over his lying tongue. "All I want to do is reclaim our place as peculiars in the world. Make it possible for us to be free again and safe at the same time. Doesn't that sound nice?"

I was still struggling against the restraints. Pointless, I know, but it was hard not to do that, while I badly wanted to get away, even though I couldn't. "If it's supposed to sound nice, why are you killing peculiars for this? Don't you want us to be safe and free?"
"Sacrifices, my boy." Caul said, calmly. "As I said, sacrifices. They have to be made." Now he turned around to face me again and held something short, but sharp in his hand. He'd put on a pair of reading glasses while I couldn't see his face and gave me a perfectly sickle-shaped grin. Caul was an iatrophobe's greatest nightmare. And mine, too, but I wasn't afraid of doctors. Maybe I was about to be.