Doctor Scratch hated paperwork. Hated it with a blazing passion. He hadn't gone to medical school to fill out paperwork, for heaven's sake! Nevertheless, at the end of each test, surgery, etc, he was required to fill out more blasted forms. He tolerated it because it was part of his job, but he longed for the day when he would no longer have to fill out the blasted forms.

He was in his office at the time, his brilliant mahogany desk practically groaning under the weight of all the damn papers. There were no windows in his office; the only light in the room were provided by large round lamps hanging from the ceiling. His walls were painted lime green and were festooned with his many PhDs and some of his favorite newspaper clippings. Doctor Scratch discovers new genotype, Doc Scratch named "Best Geneticist of Our Time", Doctor Scratch to receive Nobel Prize for Medical Innovations were next to other, less generous headlines. Dr Scratch Kills Thousands of Animals During Experiments, Dr Scratch: Butcher, Killer, Torturer, and Officials Ask: Is Doc Scratch going Too Far? to name a few. They still occupied a place of honor on his wall, as did his Nobel Prize. When interviewed, Doctor Scratch had been quite unhelpful to any and all reporters, not replying to any of their questions and instead giving cryptic, confusing and often insulting advice to them. Nonetheless, he was respected by many people, professionals and otherwise.

The phone on his desk rang; he'd insisted on getting an old-fashioned phone with real bells, not one of those cordless chirruping…things. It had taken a long time to have it installed, but it had paid off in the end. Now, however, he glanced at it with the faintest of frowns. He had told his secretary to screen his calls today on account of all the blasted paperwork. With a sigh he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Doctor Scratch."

"I know you told me to screen all your calls today, but it's urgent." Regina's voice was tighter than usual, and she was one uptight woman. Something must be wrong, then. "I think you should take this call."

"Regina, how many times have I told you-"

"Doctor, it's her."

He sat up in his chair. Regina did not have to elaborate or explain now; he understood well enough. "Very well. Put her on."

There was a click and a moment of silence. Then he heard the soft sound of somebody breathing on the other end. Even though he knew she knew who he was, he introduced himself anyway, as was his custom. "Doctor Scratch speaking." His Southern accent became a little oilier, which was usual when talking to particularly influential people. And boy was this woman influential.

"It's been a long time, Doctor," she purred. "You don't coral me anymore."

"I've been busy," he replied. She was using her fish puns again; time and again he'd almost commented on it, but decided against it. She was far too powerful to risk angering. "My work has been overwhelming lately."

There was a pause on the other end. "Reely? That's too bad. I had a porposition for you, Doctor Scratch."

He leaned back in his plush chair and felt the first flickers of wariness. "Proposition?"

"Yes, Doctor, in return for all those fronds we gave you in the past. You remember, Doctor, when you were just a tiny shrimp in an overwhelming sea, and had nowhere to turn to? You know where that moray came from, don't you?" Her voice was low now, more dangerous and nasty. "It would be unwise to anger him, Scratch."

"Obviously." He sighed and decided that he should at least hear her out. "What is this proposition?"

"There's something you need to do for me." Her voice sped up, as if gripped by a sense of urgency. "It's important to me, Scratch, and important to him. Many have tried, and many have failed. Knowing this, will you still accept?"

"It depends on what you want me to do," he said carefully.

"Simple. There will be a box arriving in the mail. Take a look at its contents. Then you can decide whether or not you 'want' to do it." There was a sharp click, followed by dead silence.

Doctor Scratch sighed and placed the receiver back in its cradle. Demanding woman, that one. She was his protégé, though, and that demanded respect. Even so, he might put off his answer for as long as he could. Maybe he could get some of his paperwo-

The phone rang again, interrupting his thoughts. He seized it and held it back up to his ear. "Doctor Scratch."

"Doctor, I've just received a notice from the front desk. They say somebody's delivered a package for you."

"Is that so? Well, tell them to bring it up. I'll be waiting." With that, he hung up the phone and started clearing off his desk. The paperwork could wait.

Not five minutes later the door to his office opened, and Regina entered. Regina Noire was a tall and angular woman, with dark skin and hair to match. She wore forest green most of the time, which made her look dark and mysterious. What he liked about her was that she always looked cunning, probably because she was always cunning. He had no idea why he had even bothered with the other temps; Regina ran rings around them. Currently she was struggling with a large wooden box, pinning it under one arm while manhandling the doorknob with the other.

"What the hell is in this thing?" she demanded. "It feels like a thousand lead weights."

"It might be." Doctor Scratch took the box from her and placed it on his desk. "You may go, Regina."

She blinked at him before turning smartly on her heel and storming out. Such an amusing woman. Doctor Scratch smiled slightly before turning his attention to the box.

It was wooden, surprising in this era of flimsy cardboard and packing tape. Luckily Doc Scratch had a crowbar on hand and managed to pry the lid off without much effort. There was no straw or other packing material in the box, suggesting that its journey had not been particularly arduous. A manila envelope sat on top, obscuring everything else from view. Doc Scratch removed it and set it aside. Paperwork could still wait.

Lying directly beneath the manila envelope was a smaller paper box. There was a key and a piece of paper inside this smaller box. The paper proclaimed that he was the owner of a warehouse in Death Valley, and he supposed the key went to its door. Now why would she send him this? Beneath that box was yet another box. This other box was made of metal and stamped with the label WARNING: CONTAINS BIOHAZARDOUS MATERIAL.

Doctor Scratch decided it was time to open the envelope. He undid the little metal fastening and let the contents slide out. Pictures, x-rays, documents, and a letter were soon spread all over his desk. He noticed the fuchsia handwriting on the letter and picked it up. Sure enough, it was her handwriting. He recognized her peculiar quirk.

Doctor Scratc)(,

Believe me, if t)(ere was anybody else I could turn to, I wouldn't )(ave bot)(ered you wit)( t)(is, w)(at wit)( you being so busy. )(owever, after many years of searc)(ing, I )(ave finally admitted that you are the only one w)(o can address my…seadicament.

The box contains twelve samples of alien blood. Your job is to splice t)(eir genetic code wit)( t)(at of a )(uman's. I can't say anenomore t)(an t)(at; after all, it's YOUR job, not MIN-E.

We'll be watc)(ing, Scratc)(.

PS The red one is ABSOLUT-ELY irreplaceable. Don't lose it.

Interesting. Doctor Scratch turned his attention to the metal box. Alien blood? It couldn't be…but he was still curious. First he searched for a way to open the container. There was no latch, but he did notice two buttons on either side of the box. When he pressed them, there was a sharp click and a loud hiss of released pressure, and then the box's lid rolled smoothly back and away. Mere seconds later, amidst a cold cloud of vapor, a small platform started rising up from the depths of the box. It came to rest with a smaller click. Sitting upon the platform was a set of test tubes. It had two rows of six each, twelve tubes total. He gingerly lifted them from the box and examined them. A different colored liquid sloshed around inside of them; from what he could see, no two colors were the same. He grabbed the nearest one and held it up to the light. The liquid inside was thick and viscous, like blood, except that it was colored blue. He replaced it and grabbed another. Olive green and also very much like blood. He picked up another one. Mustard yellow. He grabbed another. Cerulean. He looked at them all in turn; rust red, orange-brown, royal purple, fuchsia, jade green, teal and indigo colored blood. God, it was so unreal, but the blood samples were positively stunning nonetheless.

He was about to put them away when he realized he'd missed one. When he lifted it up to the light, he thought she was having him on. This blood was red, like a human's blood when it was oxygenated. Surely this was a human's blood, and not an alien's. The others must have had some form of coloring added. Then he looked at the documents. Apparently, she had gone to four other doctors before approaching him. None of them had produced the results they wanted, and all of them claimed, in their reports, that it was impossible and inhumane. 'It is impossible to splice the human genome with samples such as our benefactor provided,' one doctor wrote. 'They are completely unknown and therefore incompatible.'

Completely unknown and therefore incompatible. That would suggest that the samples were genuine. Where others might be floored by this revelation, Doctor Scratch was merely intrigued. So there was such a thing as aliens after all…and she wanted him to splice their genome with that of a human's? To what end? Why would she want him to do such a thing?

Doctor Scratch shook his head and replaced the tube of red blood. In the end, did it matter why she wanted him to do this? Here was one of the most revolutionary experiments of the decade, an experiment she had practically given to him. If successful, it had the potential to mark his name in the history books for all time. Sure, there was a risk, but wasn't there one in every experiment? And as for the human factor, Doctor Scratch knew perfectly well it was every scientist's secret dream to test his theories on a living human being, but most were too engrossed in the binds of 'morally acceptable actions' to act on their wildest fantasies.

This had never been a problem for Doctor Scratch.

A slow smile stretched over his face as he reached for his telephone. He dialed the number of Regina's phone and waited. As soon as he heard the line pick up he said, "Regina, I want you to cancel all of my current contracts. Tell them something else has come up that needs my immediate attention."

There was a brief pause. "…All of your contracts, Doctor?"

"All of them."

Regina was quiet for a moment before saying, "Whatever you want, Doctor." He chuckled and was about to hang up when she added, "Also you have a call waiting on line two. Just came though, from the looks of it."

Doctor Scratch laughed again. That woman had the most excellent timing. "Put her on, Regina."

There was a sharp click, and then the familiar voice was oozing in his ear once again. "Well? Water you say?"

Doctor Scratch leaned back in his chair again. From this angle he could see the light glinting off the twelve test tubes, giving the liquid within the appearance of so many precious gemstones. "My dear Condesce," he purred, "I would be more than happy to take your offer."

Her Imperious Condescension laughed wildly at this. "As I knew you would. When can you start?"

"I've got no prior agreements, so I could start by, say, lunchtime?"

Her voice dropped to a low purr. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Scratch."

One pale brow arched over Doctor Scratch's ice-colored eyes. "Of course not. Apart from losing the opportunity of the century, it's plain rude to say no to a pretty lady like yourself. I'm nothing if not a gentleman."

"I know you are, Scratch. I know you are." She hung up without another word, as was her custom. Scratch wasn't too chuffed about this. It was in her nature to be rude to those she thought beneath her.

Besides, he had work to do.

A/N: As most of you are no doubt aware, this is a relatively new venture for me. I thought about it for a rather long time, and decided that I would rather start posting this story now than wait until In Nomine Patris is finished. Maybe it'll be more difficult, but who knows, it could be fun!

Welp, see y'all later!