"You're with that nightmare woman," Otto murmured.

"Haha, I suppose you could say that! Though she's not half as much of a nightmare as some of the others I've met-- For instance, those dreadful people who do regulations. Though I believe you might understand that just as well!" A laugh escaped the doctor as he checked the scalpel on a rubbery model. It slit through easily, and he hummed joyfully, spinning it around his fingers before turning it on Otto. The doctor quickly pressed it to Otto's shirt, tearing through the fabric with ease. Even though it barely brushed his skin, blood still seeped from where it had touched, and the thought of what would happen made Otto feel sick.

"...What are you doing?"

"Simple, my dear patient. My job. So many people only focus on the brain of a psychic such as yourself! Why, it truly is such a shame that they wouldn't think of the other parts." He tutted, and took a needle of some sort of chemical, injecting it into Otto's chest. "Local anesthesia is such a wondrous invention, don't you think? The only problem with it is the time it takes. No worries, though, it won't take long at all-- This is an invention by our darling in-house specialist herself. She would rather compliment leopardprint than accept anything less than perfect!"

If he wasn't tied down to an operating table, perhaps Otto would've found humor in that, but the doctor had no such qualms, laughing maniacally at his own joke.

"Oh, what poor conduct I've had, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Doctor Mal Practice. Or, at least, so they call me." Mal Practice. Otto had heard it a few times, in mission reports and the like. Always resulted in agents requiring more medical care than usual, too. But with the dry spell for the past few months, they had expected he had been caught, stopped, or died. Not this. "What's that look for? You look like you've seen a ghost. It's just little ol' me!" He cackled and checked the time. "Perfect, you should be numb enough that this doesn't hurt too much now!" The doctor dug the scalpel in, and even without feeling any pain, Otto still felt wrong. Horribly wrong.

"Oi, doc!" a voice called, and Mal stopped in his tracks, huffing. "Just because you're getting spoiled with this guy doesn't mean you're allowed to kill him, got it, mutt? People give a sh-t what happens to him."

"So you say, Emberly, but I think it would be much more entertaining to see the location of your tiny brain." Mal grinned, and the other person left quickly enough. "He's such a dolt, but we don't need to worry about him! There's so much to do with just here! Even if you aren't supposed to die, there's so much studying to do!" He reached a gloved hand inside, looking at the viscera as if it were only from a movie. "Hm. Same as any other body, it seems. I wonder if the heart has any specific changes. Yet I have so little time..." Mal sighed. "Perhaps I should skip to taking your brain already, but it's so boring to do things when the patients are quiet. And you're being pretty quiet right now, aren't you?"

Otto barely could focus. The situation was already dire. He didn't know where he was, if anyone was coming, anything. All he knew was that he was in danger, and--

The scalpel landed next to his head as Mal grabbed his head with two blood-soaked hands. He could feel it dripping into his ears, the eyes drilling into his, but he barely could focus.

"Speak. Or else," Mal threatened.

"...No."

"Don't mess with me. I don't appreciate jokes, Mentallis."

"I... I don't have anything to say."

"Then at least react, or I will make sure that your 'nothing to say' becomes rather permanent. Your body is supposed to remain alive. My employer said nothing about leaving your tongue attached."

"I... I don't understand..."

"Toooooo bad!" Mal laughed, and he moved in closer. Otto closed his eyes, and prayed it would end quickly, sending out a distress signal to anyone who was listening.

At least that didn't take long to get a response. Compton's voice echoed in his mind before Mal had gotten to making even one more incision. "I'll be there soon. Just hold on for a little longer."