What about team nice dynamite playing surgeon simulator on a real person
jeez that gets awfully bloody awfully quickly. It’s definitely one
of their nastier games, which
considering who they are and what they’ve done is really saying
idea is probably born in Caleb’s office. Michael’s grumbling his way
through stitches, reluctantly laughing as Gavin makes a nuisance of
himself while he waits, opening draws, playing with tools, theorising
about what everything does, miming out increasingly disturbing
looking operations until Caleb finally banishes him back to the
waiting chair under the threat of a first-hand demonstration.
the idea is planted and not even a week goes by before Michael and
Gavin decide to rob a hospital, pick up a few tools of their own, and
play doctor. They get everything from scrubs and gloves to speciality
instruments and various medications, alongside a few of their own
concoctions and no small number of personal knives. Their ‘surgery’
is an abandoned warehouse; not even one of Geoff’s, just somewhere
private where no one will notice them making a mess. And boy do they
make a mess.
first involuntary patient
is a very bad man indeed, cruel and nasty and just generally lacking
in heart. So they take his out. Dig around for a bit, surprised by
the effort it takes to get through the ribcage, wondering at the
sheer amount of blood, the various strange bits and pieces they
rummage through, organs they examine then toss to the floor to
continue their quest. Astonishingly the patient does not survive, but
they manage to extract the heart before it stops beating so at the
end of the day they call it a successful endeavour.
the next sorry contestant, who had the misfortune of witnessing
something he shouldn’t have and running his mouth in the wrong
company, there is a very delicate eye surgery, followed by a far less
delicate experimentation to determine which vaguely eye-shaped
objects found laying around the penthouse would make the best replacements.
a dirty cop working for the wrong gang whose night ends with his
brain on the floor, a noisy thorn in Geoff’s side who involuntarily
donates his kidneys to science, a brief foray into dentistry leaves a
crook without their teeth, an arms-dealer who got a bit too touchy
loses an arm, and in a move that’s more petty than anything else, a
wanna-be conman who thought he could manipulate Gavin of all people
gets to accidentally teach them just how quickly a person can bleed out when they’re
missing their tongue.
With all the compassion of
serial-killers, the selfish amusement of egocentric children and the
in-built bravado born from the unwavering support of a best friend
the only end in sight for this awful new game is the inevitable
moment Team Nice Dynamite gets bored and moves on to something else.
rest of the FAHC doesn’t know what they’re up to in their spare time
but have seen enough shared looks and whispered plans to know they’re
doing something, have witnessed more than enough of that particular
brand of nasty delight to know it’s something devastating. Still,
when casual inquiry reveals nothing more than a pair of matching
grins, somewhat secretive and entirely wicked, it’s generally agreed that it’s best to
just sit back and wait for the mayhem to roll in.
is all well and good for a while, but eventually Jeremy and Ryan are
bored enough, curious enough, nosey enough to give up on
patience and track them down. It’s not particularly difficult,
they’re not really hiding, but what has been seen cannot be unseen
and Jeremy, for one, desperately wishes he’d left Ryan to investigate
on his own. Ryan stands in silence, reaction hidden behind his mask
though Jeremy fancies that there’s something upsettingly amused in
the way he surveys what is undoubtably a makeshift surgery, eyes
sharply interested as they flick around the room, to the blood on the
floor, the walls, to the body on the table, the wailing heart-monitor
and an IV bag filled with something oddly glittery.
is feeling slightly less impartial. Maybe it’s just the surprise of
it all; he was expecting another firework bomb, maybe a kidnapped cop
or the makings of an elaborate prank, anything other than the cold,
still, Dexter-like vibe of this particular undertaking. It’s almost
too much, too disturbing, even with everything the FAHC have done,
everything he himself has done. Perhaps it shouldn’t be, maybe it’s
no worse, not really, but in the shock of landing in what looks like
a horror movie torture room Jeremy can’t help but think that this is
something else, that this is terrible.
Gavin tears through, squawking up a storm and holding two eyeballs up
over his head like they’re watching Michael, who’s roaring with
laughter and whirling something pink and fleshy around like a lasso
as he gives chase, and just like that the moment is thoroughly
broken. Ryan snorts, turning on his heel and heading out the way he
came but Jeremy can’t quite make himself leave, can’t even stay
silent, not when Michael slides through something unnamable, wiping
out into a tray of instruments and going down under a bombardment of
misplaces organs like the worlds goriest slapstick routine.
sound has Gavin finally catching sight of Jeremy, eyes widening in
shock before he grins, wild and disastrous as he crows out a
greeting, calling for the illustrious Doctor Dooley to come in and
save him from the heavy-handed fumblings of Doctor Jones, and
honestly at that point there’s really little else Jeremy can do but
start looking around the room for a spare pair of gloves.