Doc Scratch

1 week ago

@thegoodScratchdoctor[TS]

[The manor is filled with a fierce, burning roaring. Something animalistic and hateful, like a demon. Well, no, not like. It is a demon. Lord English burst through the walls of the manors, smashing through them at top speeds to reach his destination. Infuriated by being, essentially, child locked. The flashing light flared off him like blinding fire as he rapidly approached his destination. And his puppet prey. The wall of his final destination burst apart into dust and rubble, looking for all the world like a bomb had gone off. A puppet was there to meet him, standing serenely in the center of the room with his hands behind his back. **”PUUUUUUUUUUUPPETTTTTTTTTTTT!”** “Ah, there you are, my lord. Right on time. Jujubes?” With a zap, Scratch was next to the furious and heaving lord, paying no attention to his devastating aura and the crackling green energy dancing across his body, holding up a bowl of candy. Instead of thanks or at the very least a silent partaking of the treats offered, he was met with a massive claw slashing out to strike at him. Unfortunately for Lord English, there was no impact as his host teleported out of the way. “Exactly as expected, of course. Still, it would have been impolite not to offer. Especially to *such* an important guest as you, my lord.” “YOU ARROGANT LITTLE FUCKWAD. YOU HAVE FAILED ME, YOU HAVE *DISAPPOINTED* ME, LIKE THE BROKEN LITTLE PUPPET YOU ARE. BUT NOW YOU *DEFY* ME?! INTERFERE WITH *MY* PROPERTY?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!” The question was, for all intents and purposes, rhetorical, as the moment after he said it the lord’s jaw split open, unleashing a wide wave of destructive energy that tore apart the room in mere moments. Everything was naught but ash. “Because I have finally realized, my lord, that I am better than you in nearly every way.” Everything but Scratch, who was safely behind his own attacker with a gun aimed straight at him. A gun which went off the moment English turned to face him, striking him square in his shoulder. “For instance, my omniscience is far less than it should be as of late, as you have reminded me incessantly. And yet, even with that combined with your ability to selectively hide from it, I am able to use all the information available to me to correctly determine the exact moment that you are most open for a shot.” Once again Scratch found himself teleporting away after his speech, zapping down the hallway as his lord chased him, snarling and roaring with rage as he gripped his bleeding shoulder. “Also, you are very bad at using your powers to your full potential.” “ARROGANT, BROKEN WHELP-“ “And that is another thing. I’ve contemplated it, and I am beginning to wonder if I’m not nearly so broken as you and I both believe. Or believed, in my case. After all, though many of my plans failed, or petered off, they still quite often had effects. You’ve spoken a good deal, yes, but it is arguable that you have failed when it comes to enacting major events in the same way I have.” Mid charge, Lord English changed tactics, teleporting behind Scratch in the hallway as his last teleport stopped and pouncing on him- but the doctor was too quick for him still, and the Lord found his claws connecting with the floor. Scratch stopped, teleporting next to his Lord and shoving his orb right into his face, projecting a spade. “…and I notice, I don’t recall any of *your* plans ever bringing your sister right to your home.” Time seemed to stop for a moment under the sheer force of the Lord’s rage- seemed to, in this stance, being a phrase meaning that it did in fact stop. Long enough for English to wrap his claws around the puppet and drag him into the air. “Ah, there we are, my lord! Finally, using your powers to your full-“ That sentence went unfinished as Scratch was thrown full speed through a wall. And proceeded to crash through another, and another, and another, until finally his flight was stopped as three time clones of Lord English appeared around him in a circle, mid air, slamming him done with their scepters and sending him crashing down through several floors of the manor. His final descent left a crater, his clothes torn to reveal the puppet body beneath. His cueball was covered with scorch marks. Lord English descended after him, looking significantly less damaged beyond a slowly healing shoulder wound. His fanged maw drooled like a feral, rabid animal. Once again he brought Scratch into the air. “YOU ARE DONE. YOU HAVE LOST ALL USE TO ME, YOU STUPID LITTLE FUCKER.” The flashing pool eyes stared him down, blinding light building up in his throat. He brought up his wayward host close to his face… “Ah, well. If I am to die ahead of schedule, I’ve really no use to care about the sanctity of the timeline, do I?” Scratch, calmly, pulled out his gun once again, and aimed it right between Lord English’s eyes. The eyes that, in response to the threat, locked in to piercing black eight balls. “…YOU’RE BLUFFING.” “I prepared two bullets. One for a warning shot, one for if you choose poorly.” “YOU *WOULDN’T*.” Scratch didn’t answer. “…YOU *WOULD*.” “I’m extremely pleased that you understand that. Put me down, if you would please.” Reluctantly, and after snarling for a bit, English did so. Scratch remained absolutely calm, adjusting his bow tie, which had miraculously survived the assault. “Very good. Now, here is the new arrangement.” “I have no intention of letting my lifetime of work go to waste. I will continue to move events in our primary timeline into the direction required, and I will continue to serve your requests as I do so.” Another snarl in response. “…*however*, I will take no further abuse from you. You will no longer call me broken, or defective. And you will finally start to use my damn name. And if your requests are stupid, fruitless, or simply too petty for me to deal with, well, I reserve the right to refuse them.” “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU COULD *EVER* HAVE THAT RIGHT, YOU WRETCHED LITTLE MAN?” “The fact I held a gun to your face, capable of killing you, with full intent to use it.” Lord English did not respond to that. “I don’t believe I actually have the power to directly stop you from such efforts as hunting down the Snowmen- I leave that to others. But I’m not going to waste the rest of my allotted time on worthless errands. And related to that- whatever personal agendas I choose to embark on, I will have no interference from you. Now, then. Are we in accord? Keep in mind I know exactly when to fire my weapon if you choose to attack again now, and where to aim for maximum lethality.” The two of the, stared at each other, just for a moment. Scratch was characteristically expressionless. Lord English was characteristically snarling, angry, glaring down at his servant and fighting off the urge to lunge and rend him to pieces. Unable to believe just what he was hearing, here. There was something like respect in that glare, too. “…DO WHAT YOU WANT, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE.” “Excellent. In that case, my lord…” Scratch gave a deep, theatrical bow. “…I remain your obedient servant.” English snorted, zapping away somewhere else in the manner, leaving Scratch alone in the rubble and debris. “…I’ll be needing a new suit, then.”]