|William Birkin||With all that's been occuring on the surface, it's little wonder that the Hive is, now more than ever, living up to its name as security teams, researchers, and various other members of the support staff scurry about the halls dealing with all the various issues popping up. In all the activity, some of the policies and procedures have likely lapsed a bit as people cut corners to try and keep up with the ever increasing work load. Doctor Birkin, however, refused to allow such a ridiculous excuse to mar his exceptional organizational record and has filled out all the paperwork and done all the necessary documentation for his latest series of tests. Thus, for those who know where to look, it should come as no surprise when the Doctor tracks down Doctor Berger with a two man security team, three assistants, and a gurney in tow.
"Doctor Berger?" he asks, his voice a dull drone as he peers at the man through weary and blood-shot eyes, searching for his ID tag, "Come along, I have little enough time as it is."
|Markus Berger||Being tracked down in the Hive by Birkin himself and his entourage instead of the other way around would likely be unsettling, but due to the encouragement and subtle hinting of a certain shadowy benefactor, Doctor Berger isn't even slightly fazed since its actually convenient as he operates on a tight shedule himself due to his own duties on the surface.
"Of course, Doctor Birkin. Its likely the same for anyone currently. Lead the way." With that said he gestures for Birkin to go ahead while he himself is going to follow.
|William Birkin||If William is unused to tacit cooperation, he certainly conceals his surprise well. Without a second glance, he turns on his heel and begins to march the group down a series of winding corridors, all while perusing a set of notes stuck securely to a clear clipboard. Occasionally he'll turn to ask a few clarifying questions of Berger, the majority of which relate to his medical history which is almost certainly what he's looking at as he walks. Their eventual destination is a secure section of the Hive reserved for Birkin and his team specifically, a few of which are already scrubbed up and proceeding into an operating theater, several more taking an observational position in a separate area behind a bit of plexiglass.
Birkin makes a vague gesture, waits, makes the gesture again, then looks to his assistants with annoyance as they begin to grow confused and a little nervous. "Well?" he demands, as if they should know exactly what he wants of them, "Go get my equipment, you fools." They rush off with some mumbled apologies as he turns on the security team, "And you two can watch the hall. Unless they have a higher clearance level than me, I don't want anyone coming into this section until I'm finished. Too many idiots looking for my advice on worthless projects." The last bit is largely mumbled to himself and Berger as the security team moves off. The Doctor's blooshot eyes rest on Berger now, staring at him directly as the volume of his voice drops. "Smile for the camera," he murmurs, barely moving his lips as he glances aside towards a black dome tucked away near them, though from the angle, the best it could possibly see is Birkin's back. "A friend of mine suggested you wouldn't be an utter waste of my time, which is the only reason I'm seeing to this personally. You're being treated to a series of tests based on your blood type and various genetic markers that will ultimately turn up inconclusive and then you and I will go our separate ways as far the official record is concerned. If you have problems... Well... Try not to die anywhere particularly public and make contact with your benefactor. I'll make adjustments as necessary."
|Markus Berger||Markus hismelf still seems rather unfazed at Birkins not too pleasant mood both on the way to the operating theater, as he answered all questions without issue, and inside it. At least he can fortunately take a hint and drops his voice into a murmur and subtly angles himself a bit away as well to not give the camera anything of interest to see or hear. After all, nobody needs to know that personal interests not in line with a certain Organisation are being worked on. "Well, that friend of yours seems to have been pleased enough with what he got from me, so... consider it an investment? Unless I die of course, which I don't plan to. Anyway, shall we so we both can get back to work as soon as possible?"|
|William Birkin||Birkin simply grunts his response back at Markus. There's nothing particularly hostile in his dismissal of what the other doctor has to say. He simply seems like a distrusting and distant individual in general. Still, whoever the shadowy face behind Berger is, it clearly has some sway or leverage on Birkin because, despite his evident disapproval, he still waves the other man towards the operating theater. "Yes, yes. Get into a gown and my associates will begin the operation. You'll be under for all of it, so hopefully when you come back up for air, you'll still maintain control over all your faculties. I believe we've managed to pin the success rate down well into the high seventies."
With those final comforting words, he turns away from Berger to try and hunt down his missing assistants, muttering darkly about feeding them to the 'biomass' when he finds them.
|Markus Berger||With a shrug Markus does as told and prepares for whatever this operation will entail, although an ommision of the odds would've been preferable as he just night have had to get a nervous thought back under control just now as he really isn't as calm and unfazed as he pretends he is. Not at all. Regardless, after a few moments he is ready.
Well, no time like the present to be put under and operated on by mad scientists...
|William Birkin||That's likely the last thing Berger will remember until he wakes up in a room several hours later thanks to the amnesiac effects of anesthesia. The room itself seems surprisingly comfortable, at least by Umbrella standards. There's likely a mass holding area for simple plebs, but Berger is, at the very least, one of their own, so he's given a separate room to himself. It's just as drably decorated as the rest of the Hive, but there's a small terminal (likely to continue working) within easy access of the just barely uncomfortable bed. Standard equipment monitors various functions of his body like heart rate and the like, and monitoring the monitors is William Birkin himself, either alerted to Berger's awakening, or simply being in the right place at the right time.
"This isn't a day spa, Doctor Berger. You still have work to do," he mutters sidelong towards the recovering 'patient' as he takes some notes on a chart without sparing a glance towards Berger. "You'll be happy to know everything seems to be in order. Of course we couldn't possibly test if you maintained full control of your limbs while you were under, so I may as well find out now," he explains, walking over to the foot of the bed and rapping sharply on the man's shins with his clipboard; "Did you feel that?" Technically he's supposed to check the man's extremities to check for any sign of numbness, but it's clear he either doesn't care enough, or intends on having someone else do the full diagnostic.
|Markus Berger||Markus first reaction on waking up is some ethusiastic german cursing before he does a few attempts to get himself properly awake and moving... the later being demonstrated with him flailing a hand in the direction of the annoyance that is a certain clipboard being rapped on his shins. "Yes, yes... Feeling quite the opposite of numb, what with pretty much everything hurting..." Having said that he actually groans, which likely proves the point, before rubbing his eyes. "Can't see straight though."|
|William Birkin||Birkin seems to ignore Markus' complaint of eye trouble and widespread pain, but after a few moments he mumbles 'impaired vision' under his breath as he scribbles something on his charts and proceeds to approach the head of the bed. "You're body chemistry has been manipulated on the genetic level, Doctor Berger," Birkin mentions dully as he leans in to peer closely at his patient's eyes, looking into each one before producing a penlight and shining it directly into them while he repeats the same observations. "That pain is your body undergoing extensive upgrades as it destroys and then rebuilds itself from the ground up into a more efficient model," he explains leaning back to look at the man at a more conversational distance, "Discomfort is normal, as is temporary vision loss or impairment. In fact, you should be prepared for any number of your senses to temporarily shutdown. Nothing to be concerned about unless your eyes start to leak out of your skull or you experience an intense sensation of heat on your extremities. I'm told it feels like your limbs are on fire. That would not be normal." He scribbles a few more things in his notes before beginning to walk towards the exit, "Best not to get out of bed until that aching fades, by the way. Likely just your bones and muscles being rewritten. Could end up snapping your limbs clean in half if you put your body weight on them. Oh and don't fidget overly much."|
|Markus Berger||Markus just looks at the leaving Birkin and blinks a few times to clear his blurry vision, which was NOT helped by the the light being shined into his eyes. At least it does start to work as from his perspectice things start to stop looking like blotches of color. "Thats both impressive... and explains a lot. Allright, no getting out of here for a bit. Anyway, the help is appreciated." Going by the sour tone of his voice its not really clear if the thanks were sarcastic or sincere, but with that said he calmly, if you could count someone colorfully cursing as calm, lies down properly again and mentaly prepares to having to endure a very uncomfortable and painfull couple of hours. Good thing that he has someone else keeping an eye on his own work.
Yes, even someone in a position near the absolute bottom like Markus can delegate. Sometimes.