Phantoms Among Justice

Epilogue - God, Immortal Man, and The Departed

The surgeon general, Willis Blair, went to see his most favourite case. With other people among his profession, it may had been a boy whom had cancer, now in remission. A man whom was recovering from a car accident, recovering rather well.

His, was a young man whom had been through, quite literally, the impossible. It was sheer Hell operating on him, but he'd been recuperating well. He'd been shot, stabbed, burnt, he'd even had the remains of a shotgun pellet in his head. The doctor had been in awe when hed removed it, just thinking that hed removed the most of it without anesthetics, proper surgical equipment, and that he'd survived it.

He always liked talking to him as well. The man had to have a rather large intelligence quotient, for everyday for a half an hour, the doctor went to talk to him. He hadn't the man's name, but once his amnesia would be gone he would remember it. He thought today, after a month of recuperation, he just might remember it.

He walked into the room, and checked the man's intravenous bags. Part of his face had been covered, for it had been burned severely. His mouth had been wired shut, for his jaw was broke. His entire lower body was in cast, because everything below his belt had been shattered. His bowels had been slashed, one of them cut open, skull broken, brain bleeding, etcetera.

Doctor Blair had thought of this as the human representation of Murphy's Law, stating that anything that can go wrong, will. The strange part about his favourite case was, he didn't know when he was awake. His heart monitor always loudly beeped at the normal rate, he was breathing at the normal rate, which was amazing, all things considered. His moment of thought was interrupted.

"Hello, good doctor. How do we fare today?" Doctor Blair was startled by this, but he smiled upon the inquiry. "Isnt it my job to ask that?" Blair smiled as he replied.

"I do not think so, for if I were one of your profession? I would not be in this state." The man retorted. The man was quite amazing, physically, mentally, it could be described in no other word except, beautiful. He thought that he might ask the man his name, for he could no longer bear to look at the pad that sat at the foot of his bed, and read in stag lettering, "UNKNOWN".

Doctor Blair sat on the chair beside the window, looking out of the window. He had his pen and notepad ready to quite possibly record his name, for to his world, it was priceless. He had a very good feeling about this inquiry, as opposed to all of the other similar questions to what his name was.

"So" Doctor Blair said. "Do you have an idea of what your name is?" Doctor Blair trembled upon hearing the man's teeth grit. "My name? Oh, yes, indeed." The man said. Doctor Blair had his pen shaking on his pad. "I like to compare myself only to God, immortal men, and the departed. God, for I'd like to think I'm close to him. Immortal men, for if I'm not among their nomenclature, what am I? The departed, for I've been through every hell they have" the man spoke. Doctor Blair's feelings had been discouraged, and he'd been lost for a moment in thought when he spoke again. "I'm sorry" Doctor Blair apologized. "Can you say it again?"

"My name is Spade Stiletto"