A/N: Yay! I am on an update roll! *does the dougie*

SO! With Flaky away from imminent danger (or is she? DUN DUN DUUUUUN!), three men had been holding a meeting as to what they should do with the female soldier. And these three men are: the General, the Lieutenant General (who is in deep shit, by the way XD), and, of course, the ever mysterious 'Doctor' that everyone's just DYING to know.

A secret revealed. Who would ever guess?...

The General calmly pressed a button in front of him, and the footage was paused. He reclined on his chair, his hands clasped under his chin, his already small eyes squinted in disdain at the female soldier who had escaped.

"Lieutenant General," he growled, and the person to his right squeaked like a mouse. So much for a person second in command to the ruthless Tiger of the South, or so they call the General. The Lieutenant General gulped and gripped the edge of his chair nervously. He knew what was coming, obviously. He had personally recommended one of his men to lead the party tasked to intercept the enemy's reinforcements. And he had failed. Pathetically. There was no doubt he would be held in charge. "Do you know what your actions have begun?"

He didn't dare answer. It would be the end of his life. Not that his life won't end before the sun sets later on in the day.

"You've let our delicate flower run wild," the General answered his own question, looking at his fingers like there was something in them that could change the world. "You've given it a chance for survival. A chance of refutation. A chance to destroy our plans we have worked hard to conceal in the past months."

They were silent for a while, and the Lieutenant General ticked away in his mind. One minute. Two. Five. This was all getting unbearable.

"Ah, lay off him," another voice said, and the Lieutenant General quivered. The owner of that voice was definitely a man. He was sitting on the General's left, his chin propped on his hand as he freely puffed smoke from his fourth cigarette in the meeting. He had long, yet slender, fingers, as though they were conditioned to the highest degree to be able to move fast and to move discreetly. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose just above his rectangular glasses. "It's not his fault that the imbecile messed up. He was only trying to help."

"But Doctor," the General said, always having patience with the messed up man, which greatly confuses all of his subordinates. "It was his suggestion that that idiot take the lead. Surely it is he to blame, since he should be the one to assess the skills of his subordinates to the fullest."

"Well, I've seen that idiot 'round my lab," the Doctor said casually, propping both of his feet on the table as though it was his and he flicked his cigarette. "He's smart, you know? Real alert. Although he was really twitchy when I asked him what business he had around my area." He shrugged. "Meh. All of the other guys nearly wet themselves when I ask them. But this boy's got guts. I mean," he leaned forward, into the light. "I don't look like a monster… do I?"

"Not at all," the other two chorused mechanically. Really, he wasn't hideous. In fact, the Doctor was every girl's dream. Long, silky hair that always "looked quite sexy even matted with blood", or so the female soldiers say. A lean, but otherwise muscle-y frame. Eyes that remind you of the sun. A voice that would calm you down even if you were being mutilated. Pale skin that would always be in stark contrast to what he wears. Even though he was in the side of the Vietcong, he would not wear the customary uniform of doctors/healers. A black undershirt, a dark green polo, dark jeans, and a variety of Converse shoes. Only that, and a pair of American dogtags he had salvaged from his latest victim. "I feel weird not wearing something around my neck," he had said when he showed it off, with his surprisingly curly writing blaring his name as the lights shone on the silver.

"Still, the Lieutenant General should be punished," the General said suddenly. He snapped his fingers twice. Automatically two guards boundd in from the door and lifted the Lieutenant General away by the arms.

The Doctor sighed. "Don't put him on the slow slicing area," he hollered after the guards. "Put him in the torture rack. The slow slicing's in maintenance at the moment."

When the doors closed, the General rubbed his temples tiredly. "Remind me, when did you become such a psychopath again?"

"Since I became the Head of the Torture Department," the Doctor replied nonchalantly, stretching his limbs that seemed to reach the sky. Then he became rigid, as though realizing something, and he became serious. "And I can't remember when that is, exactly… Maybe more than ten months…" He scratched his head. "All I remember is waking up, you telling my name, and I get so frustrated that I went crazy on your last Lieutenant General."

The General patted the Doctor's back good-naturedly. "Eh. Let's not talk about that." He seemed pretty shaken. Not because of the mention of his last second-in-command. Maybe because of the Doctor's sudden and mysterious arrival and acceptance.

"As you can see here," the General said, blowing up the frozen part of the surveillance. "We have a guest in this island."

The Doctor whistled and adjusted his glasses to see better. "A redhead, eh?" he said, licking his lips hungrily. "And a female, too! Wow, what a find! Can't I keep her for myself?"

"You've already got about three young maidens," the General pointed out, although he was smirking. "And you still want another?"

"But this one is so deliciously young!" the Doctor whined like a child would. Then he burst out laughing. "Okay, okay, enough. Won't you send a troop to catch her?"

"I've already personally dispatched about three," the other replied, forwarding the surveillance film and suddenly hits the play button. About seven soldiers in blue uniforms staggered about in the dense jungle foliage, swinging their rifles and knives this way and that. The General opened another screen, and another seven soldiers were checking the lake for any tracks the escapee might've left. "Our surveillance caught the guest when she was falling. She landed in the lake. We don't know if she has resurfaced or not, but rest assured, the moment she had landed on the water, three troops were sent out to capture her."

"I'm impressed," the Doctor said, genuine awe in his voice. He raised his hand to his head, but he groped nothing and, instead, sighed at his stupidity. "Ah, I forgot my hat in the lab. Stupid…"

He banged his head on the table and made a loud thud that resonated on the otherwise small meeting room. Then he resurfaced, smiling as though nothing had happened. "Well, then. Tell them that you want the pretty little rose alive. Then give her to me. I know exactly what to torture her with," he added dreamily, smirking. "So! The meeting's finished? Can I go and dissect the odd fowl I discovered now?"

"Not yet," the General said, his voice taking on a new level of seriousness. When the Doctor raised an eyebrow, he reversed almost half of the surveillance film, right to the bit where the quality was low, since they had tapped into the handheld transceiver being carried by one of the soldiers in the copter. There was no visual, but the audio was very much in shape. The General pressed a button, and a conversation begins to unfold.

"WHERE DID YOU TAKE HIM!" a female voice, an octave higher than normal, suddenly screamed from the speakers. "TELL ME! WHAT DID YOU DO TO FLIPPY!"

"I don't know who we are talking about," another voice, barely recognizable, said distantly. It must've been the troop leader. "Look, I'm not all bad, so trust me - "

"NO!" the girl yelled, obviously not buying the pathetic excuse for trust. "YOU KNOW WHERE THEY TOOK HIM! I SAW HIM! IT WAS TWELVE MONTHS AGO SINCE I LAST SAW HIM!"

The General paused the audio, and looks at the Doctor, who was now looking bloodless. His pupils were dilated in fear and confusion. "What do you make of this?" the older one asked, squinting suspiciously.

The Doctor gulped. "I don't recognize the girl," he says in a hushed voice. "But… that voice…" He shook his head. "Nah. Probably just getting attached to the screaming of men in my lab. It's kind of a norm, seeing that there's a small chance that a woman would get inside – "

"You know what I'm talking about, Doctor," the other said, cutting him off. The title was now something else – a word that, taken lightly, would mean a skewered neck.

Instead of feeling intimidated, however, the Doctor laughed. "I don't know this fella, however much I want to," he said, pointing to the blank screen pausing the redheaded soldier's delirious screams. "I would love to dissect her, though…"

"Is that the truth?" the General demanded, forcing the other to look into his eyes.

"Yes," the Doctor replied, all humor gone from his voice. His sinister yellow eyes held innocence and, possibly, a little realization. "Because as Head of the Torture Department, I, Flippy, would not hesitate to kill and mutilate the ones who know about my existence without my knowledge and permission."

A/N: And... CLIFFHANGER! *evil laugh*