"We keep left one, but need implant for right," a woman with a heavy Russian accent spoke. It sounded like they were in some sort of echo chamber. "We haff blue lens, or we replace whole thing?"
"There's less healing time if we just insert a lens for now. We can spend time and money correcting his impairment if he survives the rest of the surgeries. Prep him for me, nurse. Looks like we need more anaesthetic."
Tim could see fuzzy, shadowy figures looming over him. One of them leaned down and forced his right eye open a bit further.
"He's starting to come around, so hurry. No need to cause any more pain than necessary," the second voice spoke, his breath wafting over Tim's face.
The warmth felt sort of nice; the room and his body felt so damn cold. He wanted to ask for a blanket, or for them to turn up the heat, but before his lips even started to form words something even colder than the room was shot with merciless force into the vein of his right hand. The icy liquid quickly tore its way up his arm and he felt like the air was forced out of his lungs as the horrible sting continued to spread. A squeak escaped from his throat as he tried to scream, the coldness of whatever had invaded his veins quickly being replaced by a feeling that he was being burned alive from the inside.
"Mistake! Wrong vial. Sorry doctor," the woman called Nurse apologized, taking Tim's wrist in her giant hand and slapping at one of the larger veins on his forearm. "He no die. Nina will care for heem."
"You fool! You can't give him the anaesthetic now that he's got that running through his system! We'll just have to wait it out," the man that had been called doctor by Nina sighed. "Terribly sorry Mr. Lawrence. I can't do anything for you until tomorrow."
"We, uh, apologize for the racket. Our patient is having a bit of a rough day," Dr. Autohn explained sheepishly, bowing his head to the handsome, young programmer in front of him.
"A rough day? Sounds like someone's murdering a fucking cat with a rusted spoon in there. We've been hearing screams all goddamn day long coming outta here."
"We're terribly sorry, John. Trust me, though. Everything is under control. The program is really coming along!"
Jack cocked an eyebrow and put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to one side in his usual, sure-of-himself pose. The guy was hot and he knew it. There was no point in pretending to be a run of the mill dork when he wasn't - he was absolutely certain that he was going to do great things. Good lookin' dudes like him didn't come along every day, but when they did, they had an obligation to become great. At least, that's what Jack always told himself.
"Haven't you already killed, like, ten guys? Let me see him," he demanded, not even a slight hint of it being a request rather than a command.
"I-if . . .if you insist. But John . . ." the doctor said, nervously fidgeting.
"Uh-huh?"
"Just uh - just don't expect him to . . . you know, look the part just yet. Wh-what I mean to say is -"
Jack groaned and shoved the man in the lab coat out of his way.
"BORED!"
He just didn't have the time for anyone stumbling over words when he could get the information he wanted on his own. With way more force than necessary, the tall, dark and handsome young man thrust his fist into the door panel and it slid open with the usual hiss.
"Alright, alright, we hear ya buddy! Can't you shut him up?"
Nina was pinning the shoulders of the patient to the table as he writhed around, terrible shrieks escaping his throat. To be honest, Jack was surprised the guy still had the ability to scream for so long with such gusto.
At least we know he's got a great pair of lungs. We'll make sure he gets another great pair, too! The brunette laughed to himself. Goddamn, if he wasn't the most hilarious person he knew!
"Nina made mistake! Patient get Nuvidium, not anaesthetic. Must wait it out. He strong boy. Make tough man!"
"Nuvidium?! Why the hell would you give him that in any case?!" Jack wanted to know as he started tearing through the drawers, looking for the vials of what he wanted. Besides being a brilliant programmer, he was a bit of a genius when it came to hundreds of other topics, one of which was chemistry. His studies included chemicals and various combinations for use in the fields of weapons and warfare, but he also dedicated a decent amount of time to studying it for medicinal uses.
Nuvidium was a fairly safe substance when used topically, but upon interaction with red blood cells, it caused a violent reaction and released a substance that caused immense amounts of pain. Depending on the dosage, the pain could last for hours, or even days. It's use in the medical field was generally as a topical ointment for painful skin maladies. Why nurse Nina would have had a vial of it near his (hopeful) future body double, Jack didn't know, but he DID know that he was fucking pissed off about it. It wouldn't be the first time she "accidentally" experimented on a patient. That didn't really bother the strong jawed man, but the fact that she did it to someone in HIS charge was unacceptable.
Jack dropped a fist full of various substances on the medical tray nearby and picked up a syringe, pulling various quantities of each bottle into it.
"Keep him still, or so help me, you're gonna be getting Nuvidium soup for a month," he hissed through his perfect teeth.
Nina kept quiet and put as much of her weight onto the patient as possible. She didn't dare mess with Jack. He was the kind of crazy that would definitely poison her food for a month if she didn't comply. She'd wanted to snap that muscular back of his over her knee so many times, but knew the backlash wouldn't be survivable. So long as his diabolical brain was left intact, Jack would be relentless in his hunt for revenge.
Tim tried to figure out what was going on around him, but he was delirious. All of his insides had been on fire for what felt like years. Someone was restraining him, but their touch only made the pain more intense, so he fought against it; the harder he fought, the more they forced his searing flesh against the bed, and the more awful he felt.
Jack cleared the air out of the needle, then jammed it into the patient. Within a few seconds the screaming stopped and was replaced with heavy, laboured breathing and pathetic, shivering whimpers.
"There! Was that so fucking hard?" the good looking desk jockey wondered, rhetorically. "Get outta my sight," he growled, and nurse Nina complied.
Looking over the patient, Jack felt guilty. It was an emotion he didn't even think he had anymore, but when he saw the colour of the other man's hair and the freckles that speckled the bits of his flesh that weren't wrapped in bloody bandages, though, he knew exactly who it was.
"Hey there, pumpkin," he spoke in an unusually sweet voice.
Jack stroked the ginger coloured hair gently and sighed.
"Pumpkin? Is . . . is that him? Why is he here? Where is here? What's going on? Tim wondered, recognizing the smooth, velvety voice of his boss and the annoying nickname he'd given him.
"Carrot-head? Ginger? Four-eyes? They're all so unoriginal," Jack had said the first time they'd met.
As usual, Tim was being bullied by his co-workers. He had been busy scrubbing at his computer screen with a tissue, trying to clean off the insults before anyone else saw them when a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and leaned over his hunched body. The owner of the arm and weighty torso had been Jack and he spoke those words loudly, making sure everyone had heard him. In a quieter voice he offered Tim a tip on a proper solvent to remove the marker, then he dropped his voice even lower, his breath brushing over the ginger's ear as he whispered, "Pumpkin's cuter anyway. Welcome to my team."
With that, Jack pulled away and winked at the furiously blushing Tim. He dropped his pocket square onto the green-eyed man's desk and offered him a flirty grin.
"The name's Jack. I won't be needing that back," the cocky man spoke, finishing their conversation. As he headed off the red head could hear his new boss joking about the rhyme he'd accidentally made, then complimenting himself for his own wit and laughing to himself.
"Si . . . s-sir?" Tim barely choked out, but no matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't see the figure next to him.
That voice, though - it was unmistakable. It had to be him. The man he had the hugest crush on - he just had to be the one who was there.
"Don't waste your breath, pumpkin. Sorry about this. They weren't supposed to take anyone from my department," Jack complained, gritting his teeth. "Don't go dyin' on me, now. I actually like you, 'kay?"