Chapter Text
1940s New York, somewhere in the multiverse
The first time Anthony met him was by chance in an alleyway. He wasn't fully human at the time, disemboweling an unsuspecting victim, who had previously made the mistake of trying to mug him. Anthony, on his nightly patrol, had heard the screams from the street and ran into the space between the buildings to find a large creature hunched over the mangled corpse of a man. The screams turned to gurgles as the victim's throat was crushed with a sickening crunch, and the body went limp except for post mortem muscle contractions. The blond human couldn't quite see what the creature looked like in the darkness, but he could hear it huff and make noises that sounded… nothing like the predator he expected to be tearing into another human being this way. The creature sounded like a big deer, and when it lifted its head to fix its glowing red eyes on him, there was something about the movements that suggested it may have horns. Anthony backed up immediately when it looked at him. Shit, his curiosity had gotten the best of him. He should have run when he had the chance. He couldn't back up into the light of the city streets fast enough before the creature pounced and pinned him to the cold concrete of the alley. With it so close to him, sniffing him, he could see a snout, and ears and a giant rack of antlers. It was too dark to see the color of its fur, but these features alone clued him in to the fact that he had, by chance, happened upon the famous carnivorous werebeast that had been sighted in the area. People had been going missing and found later, mostly eaten. Local police had assumed another werewolf situation, those cases were far more common, nobody had suspected the killer to take the form of an animal not normally associated with such violence. He'd been dodging police custody for some time, killing at random and leaving barely any witnesses alive, until Anthony had rushed in, woefully unprepared to encounter the beast.
He began saying his prayers, fully expecting to be eaten just the same as the victim, and it would serve him right for being so reckless.
So when the weredeer simply huffed and withdrew back to his meal while it was still warm, it took the human a second to realize he was still alive. Anthony slowly sat up, rubbing his head where it knocked against the pavement. He stared at the creature with confusion as it went back to eating its victim, completely ignoring him. His next move was to yell at it, sort of offended that it didn't eat him. “Hey! What the hell!? What’s-a matter, ya don't like Italian food?”
Startled, the creature raised its head and looked back at him, blood and entrails dripping from its mouth. The beast thought hunt went very well this evening, as this shady gentleman had stopped him and asked him for the time before attempting to steal his watch, making himself such an easy meal, how generous. He surely wouldn't need to feed his cravings again for another week. Alas he got caught by this other human, who he would have eliminated right then, yet the blonde was too thin for his tastes. He was a witness, but he wasn't worth the effort to kill now that his belly was full.
He snorted at the human and retreated further into the dark alley, leaving behind the half eaten corpse of the mugger and a very shocked Anthony. He couldn't believe he survived that encounter with only a bump on the back of his noggin.
He got up, and ran back out to the street. He ran to find a cop and tip him off to the murder he witnessed, without giving too much away about what he had seen and experienced. He didn't stick around to be questioned, he simply headed back home as soon as he saw the officer headed for the alley he escaped from. He ran as fast as he could manage it, heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe he was actually alive. Up til now the weredeer hadn't really allowed for any witnesses to escape alive, and the people that did spot it and survive weren't close enough to it to be reliable witnesses. He was simply a menace that couldn't be stopped until it was too late, and nobody had been able to get close enough to accurately describe him to the press. Until now. Still, Anthony wasn't about to take any chances with getting mixed up with the police, or the press. He was supposed to be keeping a low profile, as his father intended to use the chaos and confusion of the werebeast killer as a distraction for a bank heist. The fact that he survived the encounter and got the information to the police made him feel incredibly accomplished as he rushed home to share the news.
The knowledge that the killer was so close to their home turf was indeed excellent news for his father to hear. He began putting forth the motions for their heist protocol as soon as Anthony told him the news. There wasn't any time to waste.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
One successful heist later, his family returned to their place to enjoy their spoils. Anthony got several celebratory claps on the back by various goons, and a firm handshake from his father. That was all the praise he thought he was likely to get. Until the old gangster lifted his beer and called out, “A toast to my youngest son, Angel, without his news of our best distraction this heist wouldn't be possible!”
The gang lifted their own drinks in response, followed by the clink of glass bottles and raucous merriment. Anthony turned pink and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, but inside he was happy to be useful to the gang. After all, he was normally falling short of expectations.
In the back of his mind he thought about the beast in the alley. He came very close to death, but survived. He wondered why. What was it about him that wasn't appealing to the monster?
The second time Anthony met him, he was human. Anthony was having a smoke in the alley outside the gang’s headquarters, in the bad part of town. He had a switchblade on him for safety, and his hand was in his pocket fondling the button in case he needed it.
The man was walking in the alley looking for his next victim. He was hungry for flesh and blood. His cravings were present, but not to the point where he'd lost his wits. He noticed the blond and gave him a quick once over. He looked familiar, too thin for his desires, and that fleeting thought was what made him pause. Too thin, the human who had caught him disemboweling his last victim. He was a witness, but he wouldn't be worth the energy to kill this time either.
Anthony noticed the man stop, and look him over, and his grip around the knife tightened. He cleared his throat and flicked cigarette ash onto the ground. “Can I help ya?”
The tone with which the blond spoke was one of unfamiliarity and mild hostility, it relaxed the beast-man somewhat to know he wasn't recognized, but he kept his guard up. “No… no. I thought you were someone I knew, but you've clearly never met me before,” he lied smoothly. “Sorry to bother you.” He began to move on but he stopped again to look closely at the other. “Actually, may I have one of those?” He was hungry, but had heard cigarettes were good appetite suppressants. It may be a while yet before he could feed.
Anthony squinted at him. Without taking his hand off the knife, he stuck the lit one in his mouth and rummaged in his pocket for the pack before offering it at arms length to the other man. He took one, and politely nodded his thanks. “Do you have a light?”
Once again, the blonde stuck his hand into his pocket to put away the pack and pull out his Zippo lighter, flicking the cap back to offer the little flame at arm's length. The other stepped forward with the stick to his lips to light it and stepped back to puff and inhale. In the brief moment of light, Anthony could see that the man was a ginger, and his eyes were brown with flecks of red. The smoke burned in the ginger’s lungs and made him choke and cough at first, which made the Italian man laugh. “Ya don't smoke much, huh?”
The beast-man shook his head. “I do not. I drink socially, but tend to avoid the smoking sections in restaurants and bars. The name is Alastor, and you are?
Anthony opted to use his gang name instead of real name. “Angel. Nice accent, you're not from around here are ya?”
Alastor laughed softly. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, and no, I'm not. I hail from the south, but I got my education further north.”
“Ya got a voice for radio, that's for sure, not bad lookin’ either. So why'd ya move to the city? For work?” Anthony paused to puff on his ciggie, relaxing a bit as the conversation went on.
“You could say that. This is the entertainment capital of the country is it not? ‘If you can make it here you can make it anywhere!’ Isn't that how the slogan goes?” He said, putting the transatlantic accent on thicker as he quoted the slogan.
“One of them. Ya coulda stayed in Chicago and made it big there too, why come all the way out east?”
“I've never been, I was sold on New York City. Oh you think that's where this accent comes from? Close, but no cigar. This is where I always wanted to be, and so here I am.” He stared at the cigarette and puffed on it slowly, inhaling less deeply and exhaling quickly to avoid the burn. It still hurt but he tried not to cough and embarrass himself again.
Anthony watched him with amusement but didn't comment on it. He chose instead to highlight the dodging of his question. “...so what is it that ya do for work? Ya didn't say.”
“I guess I didn't, did I? Entertainment, for lack of a better word, but that's incredibly vague, isn't it? You did have one thing right, I've been trying my best to get into the radio business. It's not easy. I don't seem to have what they're looking for, but I'm not good at much else. I tried to become a doctor before I switched to a degree in theater, let's just say I wasn't cut out for medical school.” Not when he almost lost himself and nearly ate a patient during a phlebotomy lesson. He very quickly transferred out of medical classes into something less likely to trigger the bloodthirsty beast within. He couldn't stop the cravings, but he could at least learn to control himself better without the ever present temptation. “I'm unfortunately unable to find work at present, I need some kind of job, but what else can I do?”
Anthony took a long drag on his cigarette to think about it. “Perhaps,” he said on the exhale. “I can help ya. Ya said something about goin’ to medical school, yeah? We've been needin’ a doctor for our gang.”
Alastor fidgeted with his half lit cigarette, the nicotine already starting to make him jittery and anxious. “I did, I wasn't cut out for it. I'm desperate enough to do anything at this time, so… perhaps I could- Gang?”
Angel nodded. “That's what I said. I know what it sounds like. It's a family business, employin’ only about a dozen or so men for the purpose of crime under the radar. But we can't afford the risk of gettin’ fixed up at any local hospital. We've been doin’ our best to patch ourselves up, but none of us are very good at doctorin’ if ya catch my drift.” He looked at Alastor expectantly.
The other hummed, thinking hard about it. The prospects he had currently were looking fairly dim. He was on the verge of becoming homeless if he wasn't able to find work, and pickpocketing his victims was only going to get him so far.
Anthony finished off his cigarette and flicked the butt away. “Think about it. If ya decide to take my offer, ya can find me out here smokin’ every night. If it's payment you're worried about, don't worry, we're good for it.” He gave the other man a smile and turned to leave the alley.
Alastor watched him go without a word, still thinking about it. If he was honest with himself, the glamour of entertainment wasn't all it had cracked up to be, and he was beginning to regret not sticking to the more practical profession. However, should he take on this job, he'd be putting himself on the line of temptation. He would be risking outing himself as a werebeast and furthermore, as the current man wanted by police.
He dropped the half smoked cigarette to the ground and crushed it out under his shoe. He was certainly more alert than he was earlier in the evening, though only the edge had been taken off his hunger. He decided he didn't like the taste of the cigarettes and the act of smoking them was a bit nasty and not worth the supposed suppression. He continued on with looking for a victim, mind full of thoughts about his conversation with the Italian.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A week later, they met for the third and final time. Anthony exited the backdoor of the hang out, into the alley. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack with his mouth and lit it with the lighter in his other hand. He smelt the nasty smells of rat piss and garbage and car exhaust mix with the smell of his cancer stick. He hadn't seen Alastor in several days, and assumed tonight would be no different. He tried not to let it bother him, he assumed the man simply wasn't interested in his proposal.
Then he heard footsteps approaching as he was taking a long drag, and sucked the smoke deep into his lungs as he watched the vague shape of a man get closer. “I'd hoped to find you here,” the man said. The manner of speaking was proper, and the Italian man recognized it as the ginger he'd met a week ago.
Anthony released his breath of smoke. “Hello, have ya thought about my offer?”
“I have.” Alastor stopped a few feet away. “I've decided to take it. I know how to stitch wounds, reset and relocate bones, but I can't do blood transfusions, and I know nothing of surgery. If you're that much in a bad way you must risk a hospital visit.”
“Understood,” Anthony offered his hand for a shake. “Welcome to the gang. Let me finish my smoke, and then we'll go inside and I'll introduce ya to the others.”
The ginger hummed in agreement. “I must say, you certainly trusted me quickly. For all you know I could be a killer.”
Anthony snorted. “You're talkin’ to one, right now. I've ended a decent amount of lives in my 30 years, and if ya can't defend yerself in this city you'll wind up dead anyways. I certainly hope ya know how to handle a weapon, ‘cause there's plenty of men in there who would shank ya just to steal your shoes. They're good muscle, loyal, so we keep ‘em around. But if they know you're new ya shouldn't turn your back on ‘em. But eh, maybe once they learn you're the new doc, they won't."
“I see…” Perhaps he misjudged the naivete of the man before him. He thought the blonde was far too trusting of a complete stranger, but it seems they were on a similar level of experience with violence. “I'll keep my guard up then.”
“You'd be wise to. I wasn't kidding, we desperately need a doctor. It's fortunate for both of us ya admitted ya have a bit of medical trainin’, cause we've had to be extra cautious to avoid serious injury and it's affectin’ our bottom line. We got lucky that werebeast showed up when he did, otherwise we probably couldn't afford to hire ya on.” Anthony went quiet to focus on smoking.
Alastor heard the mention of his beast self and was thankful for the dim light, so that the other couldn't see his face begin to pale. That's right, that was him. He wondered if he should admit that, if it would be beneficial to him to be a distraction for the gang later on. As of right now, he trusted no one with that information. He should probably keep it that way for the time being.
Anthony cleared his throat, dropped the butt of the cigarette into a gross puddle nearby and opened the alley door. He gestured for Alastor to enter and followed behind him. The inside was as dimly lit as the outside. The bulbs were on their last legs, or had been poorly wired to begin with. His eyes adjusted easily, and he found himself staring at a winding staircase.
“C'mon, we're on the 4th floor.” The blonde said, beginning the trek upwards. The ginger followed silently. Angel stopped after three flights and turned to the other. “Listen, my pops doesn't know I made this arrangement. He's far more suspicious than me, and he's got every reason to. So… Let me do the talkin'.” He took the steps up to the 4th floor 2 at a time, and knocked on the door in a rhythm. Alastor ascended a bit slower but arrived as the door opened. Anthony held up his hand, gesturing for the other to wait and slipped inside. There were voices talking and then a minute later the door opened and Alastor was pulled inside.
It was better lit in here. The room was laid out more like an apartment than an office. In the room lounging around on couches drinking, smoking and playing cards were a few of the hired muscles Angel had mentioned before, and they all looked up to stare at the ginger suspiciously.
The blonde gestured to the ginger with a small smile. “Boys, meet our new doctor, Alastor. Alastor, the boys. Jerry, Bobby, and Harry. We have others, but they ain't here right now.”
“They're down at Finnegan's,” Jerry muttered. “Which is where we're going after this game. Care to join us, kid?”
Anthony shook his head. “Nah. I gotta talk to the Boss. Maybe if he lets us go without a lecture we can.”
“Suit yerself, I fold.”
The blond tapped Alastor's shoulder and gestured for him to leave them to it, opening another door leading to a hallway with a series of doors. One of them was Papa Spider’s office, where he was busy with paperwork. Angel knocked on his door and entered when his father called for him to. Alastor followed behind and stood politely with his hands clasped behind his back.
The large man looked between his son and the stranger. “Who the hell is this?”
“His name's Doctor Alastor, and he's here for the job,” Angel said.
Papa Spider squinted at his son's blank expression and then at Alastor's warm smile. “I don't recall sayin’ we had an openin’. What're his credentials, does he even have a license? How do ya know ya didn't just invite a charlatan into our hideout?”
“Well I've known for a while that we've needed someone with medical knowledge in this place,” Angel said slowly. “He admitted to me the other night that he's lookin’ for work and knows a thing or two about under the table practices. This will save us the risk of gettin' fixed up by the good doctors at the hospital. He had no idea who I was, what reason would he have to lie?”
His father sighed heavily. “Angel…”
“For what it's worth Pops, we can't exactly afford to be picky,” he approached the desk. “We lose money on hired muscle recovery for every major heist that ends in bodily harm. Imagine the amount of crime we can do with a fixer upper on the team. This guy wanted to be an entertainer, but he has medical knowledge, we can exploit that for our benefit. Please?” He gave his father a pleading look.
The gangster sighed again. “Alright, but one wrong move from him and I won’t hesitate to use my pistol. I hope you won't either. Get outta my sight.”
Anthony turned and offered Alastor an excited grin that his dad couldn't see and they left the office.
“That went well,” Alastor commented.
“That did… he's probably just busy and didn't want us botherin’ him. He doesn't trust ya yet, but let's get back to the boys and see if they're ready to head to the bar. Ya said ya drink, yeah?”
The ginger nodded. “That I do. I'm sure you noticed my hair, liquor runs in my veins as much as blood does.”
“I did wonder what your heritage was. Half the boys are Irish, you'll fit right in.” Anthony chuckled.
They walked back into the main room just as the boys were wrapping up their poker game. Jerry was counting his winnings with a chuckle. “Guess what, kid?” He called when he saw Angel. “Drinks are on me!”
“That's great Jerry, I think we'll take ya up on your offer, to celebrate,” the blonde said.
“Oh, the Boss hired him on? That's great! What was your name again?”
The other men grumbled and collected themselves to leave, while Jerry stuffed the bills into his pockets with one hand and offered his other to shake. The ginger took his hand and shook it firmly. “Alastor. Doctor Alastor, to you,” he said brightly.
“Welcome to the gang, Doctor, we sure are glad to have ya. What's yer poison?”
“Whiskey, if the bar name is what I think it is, they're sure to have Irish whiskey, yes?” He released Jerry's hand and followed the group of men as they shuffled out the door.
“Oh I like this one, he's smart!” Jerry laughed loudly. He clapped Alastor on the back. “They do, they do!”
Alastor flinched at the sudden touch and kept his distance at the back so that no one else was in his personal space. Anthony was the last one out the door so he could lock it, and he gave the hovering Al a smile. “They're a rowdy bunch, huh?”
“Quite. I expected them to be less personable.”
Anthony laughed and turned to descend. “Those three specifically are like the 3 stooges. Kinda dumb, but well meanin’. It's the rest of them ya really have to worry about. I'll keep an eye on ya, don't worry.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled down to the ground floor. Alastor held open the door for them, and away they went.