Operating Room 6

The ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance of St. John's Medical Center. The first person out of the vehicle was Dr. Francisco Cruz, helping to gently extricate the gurney holding Ted Estes to the ground and through the doors. Chance Rinaldi - still in his latex outfit - followed closely behind.

Doctor Bryan Sanger looked at the procession with surprise on his rugged features. Dark cinnamon hair framed his handsome face and the hospital scrubs and white coat did little to hide the well-defined body beneath them.

"Ah, Bryan - glad you're on duty. We have two patients that are going to need surgery stat and two more with some trauma wounds."

He turned to the orderly that had been speaking with the handsome doctor.

"Jeffery, officer Estes here has a concussion and broken ribs. Possibly a collapsed lung and some internal bleeding. I want a full torso PET scan and an X-ray series."

"Can I go with Ted?" Chance Rinaldi asked.

"Sure, Chance. Just stay out of the way. And let Jeffery get you something ... appropriate ... to change into."

Chance looked at himself and realized he was in his leggings, hoodie, boots and gloves. The stench of cordite, explosives and violence still hung about the assassin. He grinned at the chief of surgery. "I could probably use a shower, too. Right?"

"Ummm ... yeah. You look like some crazed terrorist on the prowl..."

The orderly cleared his throat to interrupt the conversation. "Let's get down to Radiology?"

"Sure ... sorry about that." The two men left with Estes. Frankie turned to Sanger.

"Bryan, I need you to get Operating Room 6 prepped."

Sanger paled.

* * *

Lucio Giambi had been extremely generous to St. John's. A considerable amount of money was given annually to the institution, and the mobster had funded the construction of an entire wing of the hospital complex. One section in this wing was dedicated to trauma patients, and one particular area housed Operating Room 6.

Bryan placed his palm against a dark glass plate on the wall. A light scanned down his hand and matched the patterns found within its security protocols. A hiss, and pop followed, and the heavy metal door to the operating room - which resembled more like something found in a high-security bank vault - slowly opened.

Sanger flipped on the lights and began to prep the room for the two patients it was about to receive. The OR contained state-of-the-art medical machinery, as well as some of the most advanced computer systems he had ever seen. Poised above each table was a mechanism that he could only think of as a huge spider. One was made of bright steel and titanium alloys. The other - he shuddered - was composed of dark metallic and ceramic units that seemed to absorb the light in the room with a sinister purposefulness.

* * *

"Hmmmm ... I was right. Take a look at this, Bryan"

The two men were examining the diagnostic pictures from Radiology. Cruz pointed to an x-ray image on the large monitor. "That rib punctured the lung and it's partially deflated. No other internal bleeding, thank God. I still want TALOS to do a double-check for me. What do you think?"

Frankie had changed into a pair of operating scrubs. He wore a white compression shirt beneath them that highlighted his muscular chest and arms. Sanger moved closer to him and wrapped an arm around the tight waist.

"Sounds good to me - I'd also like to see a second opinion on the right upper and lower jaw. I don't know, but it looks a little out of alignment to me and some of those teeth look a little shaky."

Cruz gave his lover a quick kiss. "Let's get moving. I want Ted in recovery as soon as possible. We still have the other patient to ... treat."

Bryan frowned. Frankie rubbed the other man's arms gently, making delicate patterns as he moved.

"I know how you feel about that part of our job, love. But someone's got to do it. God knows the fucking government isn't looking out for the rest of us anymore."

At that point, the heavy door to OR6 opened again to admit Jeffery wheeling an unconscious Ted Estes into the operating theater. The police officer was naked beneath surgical sheets and an intravenous bag was hanging from the holder attached to the gurney. The two doctors and orderly transferred the prone policeman onto the operating table beneath the silvery spider. Frankie removed the sheet.

"TALOS, engage diagnostic and monitoring mode."

"Good morning, Dr. Cruz. Voice print confirmed. Deploying diagnostic web."

The bright spider stretched and lowered itself closer to the patient. A gossamer network of silvery threads settled gently onto the police officer and settled snugly around him. A 3D representation of Estes appeared on another screen.

"Patient has partially collapsed right lung and 4 broken ribs on the right thorax. Liver is bruised. Right upper jaw has hairline fracture. Upper molars 1 and 2 and bicuspid 4 have been loosened. Lower jaw is out of alignment by 3.57 milimeters. Lower molar 18 has been loosened. Various contusions and hematomas over 85 percent of body surface."

The doctors looked at each other and smiled. Sanger cleared his throat.

"TALOS, initiate surgery. Repair mode."

"Voice print confirmed. Good afternoon, Dr. Sanger. Corrective surgical procedures beginning."

Delicate arms descended from the main body of the silvery spider and gently insinuated themselves into the man below them. Probes - less than a molecule thick - moved quickly through the interstices between cells and began to repair the brutal damage done to Ted Estes at a nanotechnological scale.

"Wow, look at him go! It seems like TALOS is getting better and better at this!"

"It's his heuristic learning system - every procedure he does, the better he gets."

Cruz and Sanger watched in amazement as the ribs straightened out and Este's breathing relaxed and deepened. Bruises faded and disappeared. Soon, the probes disengaged and the web lifted from the unconscious figure. Ted lay perfect and whole. And as striking as ever.

The entire process took less than twenty minutes.

* * *

Ted woke to again find the same handsome Latino bending over him. He turned his head to see Chance sitting in a chair next to his bed, head down, asleep.

He grinned and spoke quietly.

"We have to stop meeting like this, doc. My boyfriend is going to start getting jealous."

Cruz returned the smile. He put his stethoscope to the other man's rock-hard abs. "How do you feel, Ted?" He stroked a muscular shoulder and trailed fingers lightly down the arm. Estes shivered under the gentle onslaught.

The policeman slid around on the bed, flexed his muscles and stretched.

"Good. Really good. Amazingly good. Considering the beating I took, how long have I been out?"

"About an hour."

"WHAT??!!" His outburst woke Rinaldi who leaned over the railing to give the policeman a deep kiss.

"It's true, love. Frankie wheeled you in here about an hour ago all healed up and handsome as ever. Well, except your hair. We still need to wait for that to grow back in again."

Chance reached over and squeezed Ted's bulge through the sheets. He felt the naked man beneath his grip respond and begin to grow hard. He kissed him again. Estes reached up to grasp the assassin's head as he crushed his lips against the other's inviting mouth. They devoured each other hungrily.

"Oh, God, oh God ... I've missed you so much ...."

Cruz cleared his throat. "After a couple of hours, you can take Ted home. I'll make sure that the two of you aren't disturbed." He closed the door quietly behind him.

* * *
Frankie returned to the operating theater to find the Chechen terrorist strapped down to the table beneath the darkly gleaming operating machinery. Lucio Giambi - in scrubs and a white lab coat - was speaking quietly to Sanger as Solovyov cursed, screamed and tried to break loose from the restraints. The two looked towards the door as he entered.

The mobster smiled. "You look surprised to see me, Frankie."

"Well, yes and no. I knew you were coming, I just didn't expect you in scrubs."

"As Falstaff said, 'Discretion is the better part of valor.' I felt it would be better to blend in for this operation."

"Lucio told me what this monster was planning. I can't understand these people, Frankie. What did we ever do to them?"

"We're breathing, Bryan. That's a crime enough in their eyes."

"And in cases like this, the important thing is to get as much information we can from them, act on it, and then have them pay dearly for their actions." Lucio added. His handsome face was set in grim lines.

"Let's start."

"Are you okay, love?" Cruz searched his partner's face.

The other doctor nodded, resolute. "I'm fine." He stroked a hand lightly around the latino's strong jaw. "Lucio was a big help."

Cruz smiled. "He usually is."

At that point the three men approached the prostrate Russian. He glared at them.

"I'll fucking kill all of you! Let me up!"

"Oh, I don't think so, Pabiyan ..." Lucio purred. "TALOS, initiate interrogation and sequestration modes."

"Additional authorization required."

Sanger spoke up. "This is Doctor Bryan Sanger. Authorization approved. Code is Motion-One-Dollar-Pencil."

"Voiceprint and authorization confirmed."

It was Frankie's turn. "This is Doctor Francisco Cruz. Authorization approved. Code is Manana-Seven-Orchid-Volvo."

"Voiceprint and authorization confirmed. Good afternoon Mr. Giambi. Initiating interrogation and sequestration modes."

The ebon unit behaved completely unlike it's silvery sibling. A darkly gleaming metallic net dropped quickly from its underbelly and tightened painfully against the man beneath it. Inky black metallic probes quickly descended and penetrated into soft flesh. Solovyov screamed in agony. Nanoprobes quickly insinuated themselves into muscle, organs and nerves. Pabiyan suddenly became limp. Sanger removed the restraints.

"Pabiyan, you are now a complete quadriplegic. And you're going to stay that way until you answer all of my questions. You invaded my territory, you've messed with my businesses and you nearly killed a police officer ... a man who means a great deal to me. Now, do you want to do this the easy way or hard way?"

"Fuck you!"

A bolt of agony coursed through the gangster's body, completely unlike anything he had ever experienced. Had he been in control of himself, he would have bucked, arched and doubled over. As it was, however, he could only scream. And scream. And scream. His chest heaved as he gasped -- gulping air back into tortured lungs - as the pain level slowly dropped, but did not vanish. A throbbing ache spread throughout his body and explosions of pain ripped through arms, chest, legs and head in random intervals.

"That was only a tickle compared to what's in store for you. Do you want to reconsider?"

He cursed in Russian and tried to spit into Giambi's face. He failed.

"Okay. We do this the hard way. TALOS, stop heart and lungs."

Solovyov could not breathe. He felt a leaden weight in his chest as his heart slowed and then stopped beating. He tried to scream again, but could not. His vision began to dim around the edges and he spiraled into blackness.

* * *

Pabiyan woke struggling to breathe in the hot, flinty air as the sandstorm whipped about him. He was manacled to a long chain with small hunched figures in front and behind him. He was - he discovered - as diminutive and deformed as they. The prisoners were dressed in dun-colored robes with similarly colored rags wrapped tightly around their faces. He felt a crushing weight bearing down on him with every labored step he took.

"Where am ..."

CRACK! A whip descended onto his back and the thin fabric did little to lessen it's power. And agony. He sagged under the incredible pain and turned to see a huge being raising the flail again to strike. Solovyov looked at the grey-black taloned hand holding the giant bullwhip, the evil, leering face and the great span of leathery black wings spread out from the demon's shoulders.

"Keep moving! Keep moving!"

* * *
Lucio's face swam back into focus. " ... Well, you were clinically dead for three minutes. Get to see your seventy-two virgins?" The mobster asked innocently. Solovyov looked pale and shaken.

"We've heard from other people in your position - pardon the pun - that it's not a pleasant experience wherever you found yourself."

"Wha ... wha ... what was that place?" The Chechen croaked.

Sanger spoke up. "It's wherever you go when you die. Religion aside, I've been told that in scientific terms that Heaven and Hell make sense in terms of the laws of conservation of energy."

"Now, do you want to talk, or do you want to go back there?"

Lucio began a forceful interrogation of the prisoner. When he resisted, the darkly gleaming device administered additional surges of agony. The terrorist revisited his personal Hell several more times before Lucio was finished.

"Thank you, Pabiyan. With the information you've given me, we should be able to set your organization and plans back a couple of decades at least."

He turned to Cruz. "He's all yours, Frankie. I'm done."

Cruz looked at the Chechen spreadeagled on the table. A look of hatred mingled with grim satisfaction creased his darkly handsome face.

"TALOS, initiate harvesting procedures."

Additional probes descended - some ending in rotary saws, scalpels, cannulas and forceps. Within the span of an hour, every part of the terrorist that could be reused to save or enhance lives - corneas, blood, heart, lungs, other organs as well as research material - was removed and packaged for rapid distribution. All the material had been treated with an anti-rejection serum which guaranteed a perfect match for the recipient. The remainder - almost nothing - was bundled up to be disposed.

Sanger looked fatigued but not unhappy. "I'm glad that's over with."

Lucio gathered the cinnamon-haired doctor into his arms and held him closely. "Thanks for all your help, Bryan. You should be proud of yourself."

"I'm getting there, Lucio. It's not as easy for me as for you and Frankie, but I'm getting there."

Lucio headed towards the door. "I've got to start acting on this information, guys." Giambi grinned. "I just love fucking up terrorists. Giaan is going to have a field day with the financial information! Why don't you two come over tonight for dinner? You've done a lot today. Seven sounds good?"

Cruz returned the mobster's grin. "We'll be there."

He waved as he left the room. "I'll see if Ted and Chance want to come. Plus Xander and David. Maybe Josh and Perry, too."

* * *

Sanger was waiting for Cruz when he exited the locker room. The latino had changed into a pair of snug, faded blue jeans and a green polo. He still wore the white compression shirt which highlighted his dark complexion and his incredibly muscled physique.

He gathered his lover into his arms and slid his hands down past Bryan's waistband. He began to nibble around his square jaw. Sanger moaned and snuggled closer into his lover's embrace.

"There's plenty more of that to come, cielito."

Sanger pulled the latino closer to him. He delicately licked the arch of an ear. Cruz shivered as their crotches ground together.

"I think we're going to be late for Lucio's dinner..."

Frankie chuckled. "I don't think he's going to mind, love. Not in the least...."

* * *

Well, you can probably guess who I DIDN'T vote for in the last election!

From the story arc starting with Ted and Chance, I knew Frankie was going to be a doctor, and given the fact that he works with Lucio, Francisco Cruz is far more willing to go the extra distance when it comes to things that are considered "politically incorrect." One of the ideas I had in writing this story was to have a connection between TALOS and ODIN, the supercomputer running the Castle. But after noodling over that thought, I decided that would not have added anything to the story except some unnecessary plot threads.

Pabiyan's personal hell was initially going to be a result of ODIN's tinkering directly with the Chechen's brain, but again, I felt the story was better off without it. For those of you who think this scenario sounds somewhat familiar, check out the movie, "Phantasm."

Frankie is an SPFX "Player" mask with a custom paint job. I had asked Rusty to do one for me with a more olive-skinned coloring and sent him some photo samples for comparison. I also used a urethane muscle suit to give my physician a more heroic silhouette and I think it worked out quite well.

Being Frankie - both in casual clothing and in his scrubs - felt great. For some reason, I don't get as strong a "vibe" from the SPFX masks as I do from my Greylands. I attribute it to the fact that they are so much more flexible and conforming to the face that there's more of "me" in the AE than with the slightly more rigid foam latex masks. Nevertheless, Dr. Cruz is a great character and he will definitely be making additional appearances!