Post office?

"Is that bad?" Lígílio asked.

Viktor replied, "Well... No, but this isn't where you'd find a doctor..."

Thereafter, the door to the place had slid open, revealing an average looking gentleman holding a cardboard box.

Noticing the two persons infront of himself—notably the extremely out of place entity who lit up the night—he couldn't help but mentally curse.

What the-? Who-?

Why'd it have to be now?! I finally just got my fluid!

Shit!

He tried acting his way out of getting caught by the proposed super duo. Maybe if he tried "acting normal" he could get past them... Hopefully.

"Excuse me." He said in global common, as he attempted to gingerly walk past them.

Lígílio noticed the trademark spell taking its course, and turned to Viktor with confidence—notifying him,

"Thats him!"

What? That guy?

Wait, why is he here at night?

Brushing off his own concerns, he quickly caught up with the man.

"Mr. Davis—?"

The doctor in question went rigid before turning around and answering his call, initially locking eyes with Lígílio, "Yes?"

"Hi, I believe you're supposed to be the one operating on me? My name is Viktor." He said, while holding out the letter he was supposed to give.

Luckily, the world's new 'common' language had some of its roots predominantly in English, so the message had somewhat been received.

The otherworlder merely watched in fascination as the two spoke.

"Viktor...? Ah! Right!" Bumping his forehead against the box he was carrying, he feigned remembrance for this apparent patient of his.

He noticed the outstretched envelope in hand and resumed, raising his package, "Sorry, my hands are kinda full here..."

Viktor just placed it on top of what he was carrying.

"Ah, no problem. We were just looking for your office and found you here."

"Oh. How did—? No, nevermind. Let me put this away and I'll give you the address."

After happily securing the fluid canisters within his vehicle, he came back while tapping on his electronic wristwatch, glancing back up once within range.

"Alright, you get that?"

Viktor's little notification indicator changed near the top of his periphery with a new and higher number for him to open at his leisure. Focusing his eyesight on it for longer than a glance automatically opened his list of unread items; most of which had been sent to him in the form of spam, as there were people who got paid to constantly spread advertisements within a certain radius—orators of the current age. Though simply walking around one might receive the same experience from some hidden devices which do the same job around the clock—the legality of such practices currently bearing legal opposition, if only for the annoyance it causes, rather than the clear security hazards.

As he hadn't gone out much, Viktor was actually quite interested to see what some of the non-net and regional ads looked like; something to do once his boredom peaked later. Who cared if he got a virus? He could just sell it and buy another. It's not like a hacker would get anymore information than what the device's company already sold, and is probably still attempting to harvest, with or without his permission.

If only Ed knew what I was thinking... He'd probably lynch me.

He Selected the most recent notification.

User Patrick has sent you a pinned location. Would you like to save this location, or set it as your current destination?

"Yes. I got it." He replied a little late.

There were of course, other options available for selection and sorting, but he just saved it for later since they needed to find a place to sleep now that they knew where to go.

So many things to do, so little time...

While Patrick contemplated over who these people were and what their purpose was, Viktor and Lígílio sought purchase at a local hotel until the next morning—trading history with each other and getting to know one another, seeing as how apparent it was that they were to stick together.

Finally leaving the oversarurated funky freshness of the motel, they stole a self-driven Gui; a spooky Uber or taxi with no front seat as they came to find.

It was not long until they arrived at their unassuming destination after having witnessed the scenery for a second time in a different shade. There was a lot more clamor and liveliness with people walking about than what either of them had expected the night before. Though to be fair, it was half expected by one of them, but experiencing and observing were two wholly different things.

And as if to hint at their future, their stopping-point was unlike what they had expected as well. A residential setting with no clear indication of any business or office—not that Lígílio knew the difference. Though with no other alternative, and after having double then triple checked that it was the correct address, they went and knocked.

Doctor Davis met them at the door.

"Oh! You two. I forgot to ask, but what was it again you needed me to do?" He shamelessly asked.

"Hmm? We were just here to-"

Lígílio softly cut himself off with wide eyes realizing the mistake he nearly just made. He turned towards his brother, raising up the blindfold and hearing protection they prepared.

"Now you need to put these on!"

Though before Viktor could grasp them, Patrick thought back to the letter they gave him and intervened.

"Wait—if you're here for what I think you are, then you don't need those."

He faced Viktor.

"You're not allergic to anesthetic are you?"

Though a little off-put by his choice of location and directed question, he slowly worded out, "Don't think so, no."

The doctor welcomed them inside, "Good. Alright, well come on in then, just be mindful of the tubing."

Just beyond the entry way and around the innocuous main hallway was the average scientist's wet dream. Tubes and cords of varying make and circumference strung not just on the floor but strapped and hung from the ceiling rafters; the spaghetti portion which flowed around the meat of the room—the tables of equipment and vats of whatever that thing is—creating a classic Italian dish of deranged—and presumably unethical—science.

Viktor gulped.

Bon appétit...

Not gonna lie though, this does feel a lot more threatening than cool once you realize you're not the doctor.

Predicting his apprehension, the doctor assured him while placing down a tank of gas next to his operating table, "No need to worry, those are just early stage animal clones I've been working on."

Just animal clones? He derisively thought.

Suuurrre...

"Alright, welp, Lígílio."

His pal gave him his attention with an expectant smile.

"If you see any funny business, then nuke the place."

Though he didn't understand what this 'nuke' action was, it wasn't hard to guess, so he shrugged his shoulders as if it was plainly obviously that was what he was going to do. Nobody's touching his little bro.

The doctor though, had other thoughts.

Psshh. Like you're the first to threaten me with that in here.

He took a second to monitor this 'Lígílio' before he finished his preparations.

Though just looking at the kid gives me the creeps.

He lightly grimaced.

Reminds me of Nova... Damn walking disaster.

Should probably get my dosimeter, just in case...

Sometime shortly thereafter, Viktor was fast asleep. Small sounds could be heard intermixed between silence as the doctor attempted explaining what he was going to do with charades. Lígílio was not amused when he saw him pantomiming his brother's head exploding if he didn't cut or poke into it.

After that was done, he actually began by getting quick scans of Viktor's current state to confirm his situation and consider the best approach. After doing so, he made a call,

"Hey! Huh? No! This is Patrick! Yeah, I know, I know—uhuh. Yea. Alright, so you know that thing you gave me? No, you know what I mean—that thing you made for me a while back? What did you call it? The "Emper-stamp" or something? Yeah! That! I was wondering if it still works, or if I needed to send it over for you to give it an upgrade or something. Yeah, I'm still using it for its intended purpose, it's just that the one this kid's got looks a bit different. I already sent you the HGF. Mhm. Right? Oh. Ok. Alright, nice. Thanks! Cya!"

"Boop!"

Good. Looks like it'll work for this.

Unless Ted is secretly trying to kill me...?

Naaahhhh.

Patrick rapped his fingers on the table infront of himself while he rested his elbow and head.

That probe does look a bit different though, perhaps a bit more advanced... It's no T-nine, but who's to say the T-seven's didn't include auxiliary life detection...

"Huff..."

What a bitch.

He walked towards his storage closet, or rather vault, and took out an unwieldy large case he unlocked; fetching a machine from within.

Might as well do it right I guess.

"Hey, uhhh... Lígílio, was it?"

The breathing lamp merely tilted its shade.

The doctor pulled out some magnets from his pocket and began playing with them so he could see.

"Say, Viktor here can take this kind of force, right?"

All he got back was a shrug. Though not for the reason he might've thought—Lígílio just didn't have a clue.

Haaaaaahhh... More work.

Ah, fuck it, who am I kidding? He'll be fiiiine.

And so, completely ignoring his instincts and the hippocratic oath, again, he got to work on setting up the machinery and various apperatuses around Viktor.

His initial approach was some craniotomy work followed by an automated hack, which would beguile the tracker before disabling it, but now that he's got a closer look at it, he won't be doing that. No, the probe inside Viktor's head has not just the usual package of explosives, a tracker, and maybe an audio interpreter, but also appears to include a vital monitoring system to detect if it ever gets removed. At least that was what he concluded just from external imaging. There could be more, but there's no further need to think about it due to the method of execution he'll have to choose.

Patrick glanced over to the two new vats of medical nanomachines he just managed to get his hands on and heavily sighed.

What perfect timing...

I guess you'll be patient zero then, kid!

It was a whole three days later that Viktor managed to grumble himself awake. He felt weak, nauseous, and somewhat light-headed. The room he was in smelt musty, and it was hard to move. The second he tried, he got told off, reminding him of his situation.

What the hell happened? Oh. The operation...

His curiosity wouldn't let him rest though, so he strained to get his mouth and eyes moving.

"Wh—ha..."

"He's alive!!" Patrick dramatically sung.

Lígílio squinted at Patrick in silent fury, quickly shutting him up before he assessed his brother.

"Hey, take it easy Vic. You feeling alright?" He asked gently.

"Nuhgh... A bit queasy..."

"You want anything? Some water? Food?"

Viktor meekly refused. He wanted that damn tubing out of his throat first, and the doctor complied while speaking, "Mmmm you have no idea how hard that was! Whew! I need some rest. Feel free to move around now. Just slow movements, alright?"

Viktor couldn't quite understand him though, his gear wasn't on to provide him with translation but he got the basic idea from his tone and attitude.

"Holo... Jects..?" He asked.

"Can you not understand me without them? Hmph. Still don't get how some kids your age still refuse to learn it. It's not like it's completely different from English, either." Ironically, he said this wearing a pair himself.

He spent a minute looking around for them until he returned and handed them over. Once worn, he spoke again, "Alright, well don't blame me if you get a headache for the next week because you couldn't live without them."

Internally though, his hubris wouldn't let it slide because he wanted Viktor to understand his achievement.

"Like I said earlier though, you have no idea how lucky you are."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes! I dare say any other doctor would've probably died along with you and that damn thing."

Viktor almost felt like throwing up.

"Wait. Thing? So did I have some kind of parasite in me or something?"

"Well yes, but actually no."

Viktor tried thinking back to how or what could have caused it before coming up blank like he had been the past few days.

Speaking of, how long's it been?

"So what was it? And how long have I been out?"

"Only a couple days."

Patrick glared at the now murky and disgusting looking one of his vats.

"What you had in you was what we call in our industry a death sentence, or T-seven, for short. And by the looks of it, you got one of the first ones produced. It's a brain probe used to essentially control someone with the threat of death. Your case was particularly nasty, though not the worst."

So that's why I had a free pass through metal detectors and was told to stay clear of high magnetics!

"You were rigged to blow upon any mention of it being in your head, hence the secrecy. There were some other things, but I managed to solve the problem by basically fooling the system into thinking you went out to sea before disconnecting the explosive bits, triggering its 'self destruction', before removing and destroying it. Luckily for you, the software on it was pretty old."

Lígílio didn't really know what he was saying, and quite frankly, he didn't really care, either. The guy rubbed him the wrong way, but he was glad his brother's problem had been solved.

Now if only I can find the one who did it to him... He thought with a seething calm.