Doctor Doom

“You should not be doing that, Inspector.”

Angie exhales through a narrow gap between her mostly pursed lips, releasing a cloud of smoke which rises upwards in tendrils. 

She does it slow and deliberate, taking pleasure in the act, glancing at the tendrils vanish into nothingness. 

Through the haze of smoke, the Doctor's voice seems to come from far off. He too seems to be sitting far away from her, instead of a metal table away. 

“Whatever, Doc.” 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” he insists, snatching a glance towards the cigarette in her hand.

Angie laughs out loud, the laughter turning into a bout of coughing. 

“Seriously, Doc? You do realize the absurdity of what you just said, don't you?” she replies, once the bout has subsided. 

Doctor Darziwala- or Doctor Doom, as he is infamously known- has been accused of twelve murders. 

All were his patients, all women, all raped, dismembered and dumped in empty lots and abandoned warehouses. 

“It's my medical opinion.” 

“And I suggest you keep your opinions, medical or otherwise, to yourself, Doc.” 

The doctor quietens down after this.