Prose Magica: A Spoonful of Sugar Part 1

'Doctor' Emma Strauss silently scribbled in her notebook, barely paying attention to the girl opposite her. A single light illuminated the room, reflecting off of Strauss' circular eyeglasses. A lonely antique gramophone played the graceful tune of "Blue Danube" in one corner of the room, to which the good doctor occasionally waved a finger. An elaborate chemistry set was borne on a table along the opposite wall, the sort that would give even a university a run for their money. With one gloved hand, the 'Doctor' gently picked up the soulgem on the table in front of her, then dropped it into one of two beakers.

“Experiment number forty-sree, beginnink now.”

A quiet splash sounded through the darkened room before a dull series of clinks as the soulgem settled to the bottom of the beaker. Immediately the bound girl began screaming and roaring, pulling the chains around her wrist taut as she reached for beaker in vain.

"Und how does siz van make you feel?" Strauss asked, staring down at her clipboard in a futile effort to keep her amusement from showing through.

The other girl screeched through gritted teeth. "PAIN. ANGRY. TAKE IT OUT!"

"Good, good," the 'doctor' cooed, "you are gettink much better at zis. Just a few moments lonker, darlink. Zen you vill get ze dreamy juice."

The girl chained to the wall was wearing little more than a dirty, stained tanktop and underwear. Her veins bulged an ugly purple, criss-crossing spiderweb patterns over chemically-enhanced muscles. Bloodshot eyes stared at the 'Doctor' with dilated pupils. She desperately reached and snatched at the beaker, flailing like a chained animal.

"Sirty more seconds, dear," Strauss mumbled as she jotted down a token few notes. "You are beink very stronk, very brave. Just a little lonker."

"GIVE IT TO ME!" The chained girl roared. A trail of blood had begun to run from one of her nostrils.

Strauss allowed a sly grin to creep up her face, showing off her wickedly pointed teeth. With a pair of tongs, she gently plucked the soulgem from one beaker, shook it off, then dropped it into the second. The results were immediately apparent. The bound girl slumped back against the wall and collapsed against her bindings, donning a look of pure euphoria as her brain abruptly switched gears. Her eyes rolled back into her head and a series of short giggles bubbled up from her mouth every so often.

"Zere ve go," whispered the 'doctor', watching with a look of utmost satisfaction. "Vhat a brave little girl you are. Und brave girls get ze dreamy juice!"

Strauss leaned back and adjusted her spectacles, holding a hand to her chin. The hyperdeliriant was one of her best selling products, inducing a near-catatonic state of bliss and available by injection or direct application to the soulgem. It even seemed to slow the corruption of a soulgem by a marginal amount. Though, she would never dare test the substance on herself. It did one well not to sample one's own product.

There was a time, long ago, when Emma Strauss was the warmaster of the Thirteenth. The first Venenum warmaster. It was an honour that brought great expectations and promise - which made it all the worse when she became the first warmaster to be expelled from her own officio. Unethical, inhumane practices they had told her. As if the entire magical girl song and dance wasn't already. Now she was stuck peddling drugs that would kill a normal human out of the basement of a one-story bungalow in the middle of nowhere.

Strauss kept a close eye on the euphoric guinea pig, still jotting down notes. The ugly, bulging veins slowly receded over a short few minutes, but the whites of her eyes were still painted with branching red veins. The 'doctor' quietly set her clipboard down on the table, then lifted the beaker containing her victim's soulgem.

"How are you feelink now, Milica?" Strauss asked, genuine curiosity touching her words.

"Muh- muh- muh- haaaa- mu- ahaha- much-ch-ch behehetter," Milica giggled. The girl was clearly still lost in her own little world.

Strauss let out a distinct "hmph" before setting the beaker down. "Fascinatink."

The gem was certainly corrupted to an extent, but not nearly to the length that Strauss had expected. A grief-retardant wasn't exactly something that interested her, but it would certainly sell well enough. Such was life as a small business owner.

Strauss had found the girl on her doorstep some months back. Everything about the wretch seemed to paint her as the perfect picture of a typical junky. Her hair was a mess, her skin blotchy and pale. She seemed to twitch nervously every so often and always held onto one arm; as if keeping it back from mugging the good doctor for more drugs.

Milica Djalic. Strauss had always kept a meticulously perfect file on each of her subjects. The girl had gone by the nickname "Red Hands" after a strange quirk left them constantly bloodied up to the elbow while in her costume. The 'Doctor' had only been interested in the phenomena for a few moments before she began to pump the girl full of various chemicals on a daily basis.

Her silent reminiscing was suddenly interrupted as the door bell was rung and a dog began yapping on the floor above. The bespectacled German nearly kicked over the table as she jolted upright, swearing as she rose from her seat. One hand swept up her top hat from thin air and placed it gently upon her head as the other took her cane, which was used to lift the needle from the gramophone.

There was a slight hunch to Strauss' stance as she quickly ascended the wooden stairway. The steps creaked and groaned with every heavy footfall, as if threatening to give way at the slightest pressure. As she reached the ground floor, the 'doctor' was greeted by a short, fluffy dog jumping and yapping at her excitedly, begging for attention.

“Do ve have a visitor, Fritz?” Strauss asked, giving its head a vigorous rub. “Go downstairs und play vis Milica, Fritz. Mommy needs to serve ze customers now.”

The dog did as it was told, promptly scurrying down the steps to lick the face of the bound girl. Strauss gently kicked the basement door shut before making her way to the front. One bespectacled eye peered out of the peephole – an addition which she had insisted on installing.

“Who is it?” She called out, her voice taking on a sing-song tone.

“It's Ofelia, Doctor,” came the reply in a soft, gentle voice.

Strauss grinned a sharp-toothed grin and pulled the door open, pulling herself down into a low bow as she did.

“Fräulein Navidson,” she greeted the new-comer, “alvays a pleasure to see my favourite customer. Do come in! Is it time for our appointment already?”

The girl who entered, a one Miss Ofelia Navidson, was dressed in a frilled blue dress, the sort that almost begged to be accompanied by a parasol and a haughty attitude. She had been coming to see the 'doctor' regularly for several months – far longer than Strauss had kept her favourite test subject chained up in the basement, at the very least. Her blonde hair was worn in long, spiralling curls down her back, along with two over her shoulders. She seemed the exact opposite of what one would expect of Strauss' clients.

“Two in the afternoon, just in time for tea,” Ofelia answered, smiling gently with just a hint of a darker tone “as usual.”

“Forgive me, forgive me. I just get so caught up in my vork. Is like zey say” Strauss laughed, leading the blonde girl to her tiny kitchen table as she flashed a wicked grin, "time flies ven you are havink fun."

“It's perfectly alright, dear doctor,” the blonde answered, taking her seat, “how has business been?”

“About ze same as usuval, I suppose,” the 'doctor' answered. She quickly prepared a kettle to boil before taking a seat opposite her customer. “Ze Tenss has been tryink to pressure me into takink more orders, but I simply von't have it. Und zen, ze Tventiess has been shovink a great amount of interest in ze hyperdeliriant. Interrogation purposes, so he claims. Not zat zis is any concern of mine, of course.”

"As it should be, I imagine."

Strauss shrugged and threw the blonde a smirk. "Zat is only good business. You have come for ze usuval, ja?"

"You don't have time to sit and chat?" Ofelia pouted, feigning offense.

"Vell, I have anozer appointment in two hours, betveen zat und furzer tests..." The 'doctor' trailed off, bobbing her head from side to side as she thought. "I suppose I could make some time for relaxink."

"Do you still keep that girl of yours around? What was her name..."

"Milica," Strauss answered as she rose from her seat to fetch the kettle. "Und ja, she is still here. I could not ask for a better test subject. So villing, so desperate," the 'doctor' made that same wicked grin that always seemed to find its way to her face, "it varms ze cockles of mein heart."

"What exactly is it that you consider her, hm?" Ofelia asked, thanking the 'doctor' as she poured each of them a cup of tea. "A prisoner? A slave? A pet, maybe?"

Strauss laughed quietly to herself, her eyes flicking upward to look at the blonde over the rims of her glasses. "Zat is... a complicated qvestion."

"Perhaps a friend then?" The blonde asked, finishing her question with a punctuating sip.

The 'doctor' nearly choked on her own drink, her spectacles clattering to the table. "I sink- I sink you are over-sinkink sinks a bit much, ja? Vat she is does not exactly matter, does it?"

"I was just thinking," Ofelia shrugged as she twirled a finger around her golden curls, "I would throw in a little extra something. But only if you buy her a decent meal with it. Is that agreeable?"

"Ach," Strauss groaned, scowling as she replaced her glasses, "do not tell me you have suddenly decided to start carink for zis... zis junky!"

"I can't exactly deny that," the blonde's finger ceased swirling her hair as she gently placed the tea cup on the table before sliding a narrow, blue, rectangular pamphlet across the table. "But you'll consider it, won't you?"

Strauss flipped through the pamphlet, squinting at it with an eyebrow cocked as she read. "Vat ze fuck is zis?" She mumbled. "A brochure for some kind of... religion? A cult?"

"The Blessed Lady watches over all magical girls, dear doctor," Navidson explained, taking the 'doctor's' free hand as she donned a look of utmost sincerity, "no matter how wayward their soul. No matter how far they may have strayed from the path of righteo-"

"Und you hand out fucking BROCHURES?" Strauss took back the hand held by the blonde and pinched her brow. After a moment, she let go and took a deep breath before speaking. "Ofelia, my dear Ofelia. You are vun of my favourite customers. You are punctuval, polite und you do not ask too many qvestions. I vill not allow you to stain a perfectly good business relationship vis zis... zis... solicitink!"

"Doctor please-"

"HALT DIE KLAPPE!" Strauss yelled. She took another deep breath as she squeezed her eyes closed. "Ve vill do business, und zen I vill show you to ze door. You vanted ze mark four combat stimulant as usuval, ja? Ze mark five vill be ready in just a few veeks-"

"A-actually," Ofelia stammered, gulping, "I was hoping you could perhaps sell me the mark two at a reduced rate. I imagine you have a large surplus stock."

"Ze mark two?" The 'doctor' asked with an incredulous blink. "Ofelia, I vould caution against such a sink. Ze mark two is extremely addictive und plagued by side effects... Zere is a reason I have a surplus of it. It vas my greatest mistake. Vhy vould you even vant zis?"

"Times are tough these days," the other girl responded, her eyes wandering. "The- the economy you know."

Strauss snorted and waved the blue pamphlet in the air. "Zen vhy don't you pray to zis Blessed Lady of yours for some money, hm?"

"Doctor-"

"I tell you vat," she began, "I vill sell you vun dose of mark four at a reduced rate, just zis vonce, for my favourite customer."

"Doctor, I need more than just a single dose," Ofelia replied. Her words seemed to grow more desperate as the argument went on. "I- I need MORE."

"I vill not sell my best customer ze mark two," Strauss countered. "Zis is not up for negotiata-"

"SELL ME THE MARK TWO!" Ofelia roared, her voice distorting and deepening between words.

The 'doctor's' eyes widened as realization slowly dawned on her. "Mein gott," she whispered, "you have already tried it, haven't you? Somevun gave you ze mark two. Who did zis to you?"

"Just sell it to me," the blonde muttered, "I swear to you that I won't be any problem."

"You say zat now, but-"

At that the other girl lunged across the table and seized the 'doctor's' wrist, her hand squeezing nearly hard enough to snap bone. A slight curl came to Strauss' lip, a faint snarl as she suppressed the urge to stab a pair of syringes into the other girl's eye sockets. She made it a rule not to deal with addicts - or at least not ones doped up on combat stims strong enough to easily kill a grown man.

"Just. Sell it to me."

Strauss sighed, then shook her head. "Fine," she growled, "vun order of ze mark two combat stimulant. Zat is five millilitres. Full price."

"But-"

"You vant your filsy drugs, you vill pay full price!" She shouted, slamming a short, narrow silver case on the table. "Zat is one grief seed und ten sousand dollars per millilitre. You pay zis or you get NOSINK! Am I understood?"

Ofelia sat back in her chair and took a deep breath, choking down her rage. "Fine. Five millilitres. Full price."

"Zen ve have a deal."

The two girls nodded nearly in unison. Strauss shifted the briefcase to the side of the table before placing an identical one in its place. Ofelia nodded, then laid a small sack upon the table, along with several stacks of hundred dollar bills along with one extra, as she had promised. The two exchanged goods without a word shared between them; the silence only ever broken when one of them sipped her tea.

It wasn't until Strauss showed the blonde to the door that she finally spoke, and only one sentence then before locking up.

"May zis Blessed Lady have mercy on your soul."

The 'doctor' leaned back against the wall upon shutting the door, pulling aside the curtain to watch Ofelia's limousine pull out of the driveway, bounce over the speed-bump at the end, then finally disappear around the corner. She felt dirty. Ashamed. The mark two had always been one of her greatest mistakes, one that seemed intent on haunting her to her grave. It was one thing to ruin lives intentionally, to create a dependency on purpose. That was entirely within her control. Playing with an addict was one of her favourite hobbies. For it to happen by accident was another matter entirely. It was a mistake.

And mistakes would not be tolerated.

Everything seemed to blur together as she made her way back to the basement. She was sitting on the wobbly stool in front of her equipment before she knew it. Strauss sighed, working quietly as Milica patted the dog curled up beside her. The 'doctor' rolled the stool over to her testing table and removed the girl's soulgem from her concoction, giving it a few good shakes to dry it out.

"Ih-ih-i-i-is s-so-something wr-wrong?" Milica asked, rubbing her eyes as she came to. She'd had that damn stammer for as long as Strauss had known her.

"It is fine, my dear," the 'doctor' muttered. "Vhat vould you like for dinner? My treat."

"Re-re-re-reall-l-ly?" The girl asked. She hadn't been offered something in that way for as long as she could remember. "Di-di-did suh-somethi-thing ha-ha-ha-happ-pp-ppen?"

"Do not vorry yourself, Milica," Struass answered, looking down at her own hands. "Now vhat vould you like for dinner, hm?"

"A-a-anything?"

"Anysing."

Milica's brow scrunched for a moment as she thought. "Theh-theh-then a suh-steak puh-puh-please!"

"Two steaks it is zen!" Strauss laughed. "I vill go buy zem after my second appointment. Get some rest vhile you can."

The girl's chains jingled as she readjusted herself, using the dog as a pillow as she laid herself down. Strauss took up a spark lighter and flicked it a few times, igniting a Bunsen burner on the table. She stared into the flame for some time, playing with the air valve as silent thoughts drifted to and fro in her mind. It relaxed her when she was in no mood to mix chemicals, as rare as that was.

She had done terrible things in her days. She had hurt innocent people. She had killed people who had claimed to love her. The closest thing she had to a friend was chained up in her basement like an animal.

The 'doctor' hadn't even noticed that she still held the blue brochure in one hand, crumpled and crushed from her stresses. She idly read it, laughing and musing to herself as she skimmed its contents. A goddess of magical girls. Strauss couldn't even begin to comprehend the foolishness of the concept. With a long sigh, she placed it in the flames and watched them dance around it as the pamphlet blackened and burned. Her eyes drooped in a solemn expression as she stared at the burning brochure. A single murmured question escaped her lips as she watched it turn to ash.

"Vhat god could love a creature like me?"