The Evening Street : RADIODUST

9: Human sweat - Salt

June 22
Rectangular white artificial light hung from the ceiling. The floor, the ceiling, and the walls were smooth, without ridges and bumps, and white, without shades of gray and beige. Cold air conditioning kept the room cool and the covered bodies fresh on the metal tables. White blankets covered the corspes from head to ankles. Pale-bluiesh feet poked out from under the sheets, a plastic tag wrapped around the toe.

"Welcome to the autopsy room!"

Dr. Pentious cried, clapping his hands together. He spoke with a lisp, the "th" sounded like an s.

Dr. Pentious was a weird guy. Any sane, normal person could tell just by looking at him. The guy had a black long healthy hair (Blitzo was jelaous. Why did he have to inherit a receding hairling?) tied back with a ribbon. He wore black rubber gloves, white doctor's clothes and black vintage apron. Pentious looked like he walked and acted as if he came straight out of some 1950's Black and white Dr Frankenstein rendition.

Dr. Pentious was older than him— 68— but the man looked like he was in his thirties. Again, Blitzo was jealous of this odd guy's genes.

"Sso, what do you think?" Dr Pentious said, looming over him. Another thing, Dr. Pentious was freakishly tall... everyone was freakishly tall if you were Blitzo.

"Its... a nice place? But, I wouldn't live here." Blitzo said.

"Yes, Yes it is! It is my home, my invention space— my thinking space...Sso, I believe that you are wondering about the wonderful disscoveries I have made with the corspes. It's interesting and I think you will enjoy it too. Come along now, look at this," Dr. Pentious said. He flailed his arms around as he talked, walking towards the countertop beside the metal embalming tables.

"Okay," Blitzo mildly acknowledged. He glanced at the few laminated pictures on the wall, motivational snake posters.

One of the posters had a buff snake followed by the phrase "Don't tread on me." It was the only poster where the snake was cartoonish and not creepily realistic.

Shit. Why did Dr. Pentious have to be here today? Why coulding his "egg minions" apprentices help Blitzo find out what happened to the bodies? This situaiton was serious, really fucking serious. Time was crunching and Blitzo couldn't believe that he was losing minutes with this wacko.

Blitzo wasn't saying that Dr. Pentious didn't know his crap. The guy disturbingly knew a shit-ton about anatomy, organs, stab wounds, venom, oxygen poisoning, and anything that caused death. The man, at first glance, could differeiante the difference between bullet poisoning and a bullet coated with poison.

But Dr. Pent— ehem Smartass wasted time doing his evil monologue speech every time. If Blitzo lived in a different world, this doctor would be having some evil floating ship layer and decimating cities.

Anyways, Rosie probably assigned this ass for this specific job. He was the expert, no matter how cock-blocking he was.

"What did you find, doc?" Blitzo said. He walked over to Dr. Pentious, who was busy pulling out files and flicking through papers.

"Something marvelous, a pattern of pain! Observe!" Dr. Pentious took out a diagram depicting the anatomical discoveries: a body marked up with highlighter, red pen and black ink. He spread out various photographs alongside the two dead body diagrams. Blitzo saw body parts, broken and disfigured. The photo was like all the other photographs Blitzo had seen before that depicted Velvet's precious victims, gruesome and disgusting.

"No shit Sherlock," Blitzo said.

"Let me explain to your plebeian mind." Dr. Pentious pointed at the diagram. "These are the bodies— the unidentified female, and the girl. Through all their endevaours, mutilated fingerprints, wounds and lacerations, there is a common denominator."