#umbrellamedic

@umbrellamedic || Dr Victor Gideon

Dr Gideon wasn't often called when a new arrival came in. He did not concern himself with the mundane and trivial patients who frequented his care centre. Not unless they were of use to him.

He had a cover to maintain afterall. It allowed him to focus on his research. There was more than one method to procuring test subjects for his experiments. Most, for the time, being were treated properly and spared.

So when his well trained and conditioned receptionist called him in frantic worry about a woman that was of interest to him specifically, he made the effort to pause his reading and came down to see what the fuss was about.

He spotted the signs of infection instantly. It sparked his curiosity how she knew to come here. Was it luck? Random chance? Or was his operation less concealed than he hoped.

"Hello dear. I am Doctor Victor Gideon. Shall we speak privately in one of our consultation rooms?" He would let her walk into her own entrapment willingly.

"Alright, fine. I need your services."

he didn't remember exactly when he had started scouring through the files , corrupted or not. probably allot longer than he could guess given the familiar sharp pain of staring a the screen in pitch dark and the insistent pain along his back.

He retracts any sort of objection. Not because of some respect for her presence or appreciation for when she steps closer. But because he knows it's a waste of time and energy to bother objecting. Bertha has astuubborness that rivals his own. A tendency not to fear him either, he is beginning to wearily notice.

The thing about Umbrella is that they don't care at all. Broken bones or bleeding, he's never been allocated the gentleness you might find in any other medical bay. Instead, they pile his clothing beside him after sewing him up like raw meat, expecting him to manage himself even as it becomes evident he can't lift one arm without risking popping a stitch.

When she steps closer, he narrows his eyes with an obvious display of annoyance. Why the hell she poked her head into empty rooms like that was beyond him.

Bertha does not coo sympathetically when she helps him back into his shirt. She doesn't ask what happened to him either, although he notes that her gaze is critical when it surveys the freshly mended wound.

"Not impressed by your peers' work, I take it?" He asks.

"Sure."

As far as the baseline for humor went, Ahab the Mad, Ada Wong, Carla Radames, all three of them were abysmal judges. Rewinding a CCTV pack of footage the entire way to see the series of events just one more time, Carla found her brow crawling higher and higher up her forehead.

First, the man transporting these biological weapons parked the truck, and there were no pointers for that. Nothing in particular was wrong with that.

Next in the unloading process was the code, which he clearly forgot, even in the blurry playback. Then, after remembering, he plugged it in and didn't step back instead leaned on the caution stickers plastering the outside. The seal on the door hissed open, and the door caught on his sleeve, degloving his entire hand.

And then the focus was now on a degloved hand.

"It's still funny."

Eᴠᴇɴ Mᴏʀᴇ Iɴᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ Qᴜᴏᴛᴇs Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ!

Lepo: What’s your body count? Bertha: Do you mean sex or murder?

—

Lepo, handing a balloon to Bertha: I have no soul. Have a good day! Bertha, walking off: I don't have one either.

—

Bertha: Lepo, I need some advice. Lepo: You need advice from ME? Bertha: Yeah, frightening, isn't it?

—

* 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 @umbrellamedic

"Injected too much morphine, Bertha?" HUNK remarks, perhaps to prove he is not angry, but he keeps his feet locked in place, and pulls his arm back, to avoid being pulled along with her. He is used to her being in a good mood, but a touch curious to see her attempt to involve him.

The mission is over, that much is a relief. There's blood to wash off, and gear to clean, and guns to polish, but for the most part the Delta team had been showing their prowess each successive conflict they survived.

The joy in Bertha's eyes when both hurting and healing was noted by HUNK, at times he could hardly tell the difference, but the team had adapted to her... aggressive style of medicine. Perhaps because of that, he had a slight concern to see her happily by his side, wondering if she had some thoughts in her mind.

Still, he had started to be a bit easy going with them, and he knew that they had started to see him as closer than normal. While HUNK usually tried to stand on the edge of rewarding such behavior, he supposed he could allow it.