In the dimly lit corridor, only the sign at the door of the operating room emits a faint cold light. This special operating room in this special hospital has a piece of frosted glass inlaid in the center of the door.
When the light in the room passes through the frosted glass and reflects on the floor of the corridor, it is like leaving a pool of water stains on the ground. Looking inward along the glass, you can only see some hazy images.
.
Through the glass, you can see the upper body of a naked man. He looks like he is lying on the operating table, with one arm hanging down. When the bright light shines on his smooth and tight back muscles, the atmosphere is like
The extremely famous oil painting "The Death of Marat".
Blood dripped down his arm, forming a small puddle on the ground. The smooth tile floor reflected his pale face. Sweat slipped from the outside of his eyes sunk under his eyebrows, flowing all the way to his thin bones.
I felt it on my jaw, and then it dropped to the ground.
The instrument made a slight buzzing sound. In the trance and hazy halo, the doctor holding the scalpel with blood on his hands gently took off his mask, put the knife in his hand on the tray next to him, and turned around to take a look.
instrument, and said:
"His physical signs are approaching the limit, and the operation cannot continue."
"Dr. Fitzgibbon, I hope you understand that he is not an ordinary person and will not die during this operation, and you must complete Ms. Waller's instructions. This is your job." Standing aside, his figure was obvious.
A female nurse who was different from the other nurses spoke.
The doctor known as Dr. Fitzgibbon turned to look at her and said seriously: "Although I am known as the death doctor, I am not a doctor who is good at making patients die.
"My surgery has a high success rate, so you'd better pay attention to my opinion. At this point in the surgery, the results you requested have been achieved, so what's the point of continuing?"
The somewhat overly strong nurse standing next to him glanced down at the man lying on the operating table.
There was an extremely long and deep wound on his naked upper body from the back of his head to his tailbone, and almost the entire vertebrae of his spine were exposed.
At this time, there was abnormal reflection on the surface of the exposed bones. Dr. Fitzgibbon glanced at the nurse's face and seemed to remember something. He clicked his tongue and muttered something in a low voice before trying hard to put it away.
A dissatisfied expression.
He picked up another syringe from the metal tray next to him, pulled the edge of his glove with his other hand, shook his head helplessly and said:
"Okay, I know that Ms. Waller has some personal enmity with Professor Schiller. She hopes that the results of the operation will be as she wishes, but the process should not be so smooth. In this case, double the dose.
"
After saying that, he held the syringe like a knife and inserted the sharp needle into the gap between Schiller's exposed spine.
In an instant, Schiller trembled violently like an electric shock. Silver metallic light spread along the surface of the bones. As Schiller twitched uncontrollably, more blood burst out.
The rather strong nurse standing by the door stepped forward, pressed Schiller's neck with her gloved hands, and pressed him firmly onto the operating table, preventing him from struggling.
It wasn't until all the silver light penetrated into the bones that Schiller exhaled like a dying fish and lay down on the spot without moving.
And his whole body looked like he had just been fished out of the water. His black hair was soaked with sweat, mixed with blood, and dripped from his arms.
Dr. Fitzgibbon brought three more syringes, and pierced the neck bones, lumbar vertebrae, and tail vertebrae respectively as before. After multiple injections, Schiller's entire spine completely changed color, that dark color.
The color even started to spread along the spine, towards the ribs and shoulder blades.
Schiller was pale and lying on the operating table with a distracted expression, but Dr. Fitzgibbon put down the needle in his hand and took two steps back. After taking one last look at Schiller, he turned and walked out of the operating room.
Amanda Waller was waiting outside the door of the operating room. When she saw Dr. Fitzgibbon coming out, she raised her eyebrows, her expression self-evident. Dr. Fitzgibbon glanced at the translucent glass in the center of the door and spoke.
said:
"You should know that there won't be any scholar in the world who has done more in-depth research on nano-implantation than me. The micro-bomb you want to use is completely child's play to me, and it can only be used on Professor Schiller.
The nanocontroller is the masterpiece of my life."
Looking at Amanda's slightly softened expression, Dr. Fitzgibbon coughed slightly and said: "Humans are vertebrates. No one can deny the importance of the spine to humans. The close connection and precision between this skeletal system
This ingenious cooperative relationship is God’s masterpiece. When you hold a spine in your hand, it’s like holding the scepter of life.”
"Dr. Fitzgibbon, I'm not here to listen to you recite poetry." Amanda turned to look at the gray-haired doctor and said: "I just want to know that you have misappropriated more than half of the funds for microbomb research.
What kind of effects can the so-called human bone nanocontroller achieve?"
"No, no, no, this is not a skeletal controller!" Dr. Fitzgibbon shook his head slightly and said, "This is more like a nerve controller. You should know what the nerves of the human body are, right? The reason why some paralyzed patients cannot walk
, not because there is something wrong with their bones, but with their nerves."
"What kind of results will there be when nerve damage occurs, what effects can be achieved by nanocontrollers." Dr. Fitzgibbon tried his best to explain his experimental results to Amanda in easy-to-understand terms.
"You mean if I think about it, this professor will be like a paralyzed patient in a car accident and never stand up again?" Amanda asked with interest.
"This is just the simplest and most superficial way to use it. If you want, you can make him unable to move at all, you can also transmit unimaginable pain through the human body's nerves, and you can even artificially create a withdrawal reaction...the ability of this thing
, depends on how painful you want the other person to be, and your imagination." Dr. Fitzgibbon said with a shrug.
"I'm not a sadist." Amanda said, then she turned her head and looked at Schiller through the blurred glass in the center of the door, who was still lying motionless on the operating table, and said: "Are you sure?
Was he conscious during the operation?"
"Of course, but I can only tell the truth. It's actually not too painful. Apart from the process of cutting open the skin and muscles to find the spine, the pain may not even be comparable to the severe electric shock. The tremors and twitches all come from the nerves.
Reflexes don't actually transmit pain."
"Pain is not the greatest torture." Amanda said with a sneer: "For this group of cruel and ruthless serial killers, the humiliation of being reduced from a butcher to a lamb is the most disturbing thing to them.
painfully."
After speaking, Amanda opened the door of the operating room, and all the other nurses in the operating room left. Only Amanda was left standing in front of the operating table, and Schiller was lying on the operating table with his eyes slightly closed.
The wound on Schiller's back has been sutured, but because the wound is too deep and the area is too large, the sutures used are very thick and the traces are obvious. The dense stitches look like a zipper is installed on his back.
.
Schiller tilted his head and put half of his face on the operating table. On the exposed half, his lips had no color. His eyes were still very unfocused, but his eyelashes would occasionally twitch.
"Look at you, Professor." Amanda looked at Schiller condescendingly, with a sneer on her lips, and said, "You didn't scream, you didn't shout, you didn't even say a word."
"Is this because you feel that if you cry out, it will be no different from the lambs that screamed because of your abuse?"
Amanda pursed her lips, exhaled slightly, raised her head high, looked at the air in the air and said:
"You are a group of cruel, cold and heartless murderers who feel that you and ordinary humans are two different creatures. You regard them as pigs and dogs, and you feel that you can slaughter or abuse them at will."
"Therefore, what I like to do most is to crush your arrogance and let you understand that there is no difference between you and the meat on the chopping board. You are not the ruler and controller, but also just weak and helpless lambs."
Schiller blinked slightly and said in an extremely hoarse voice: "Amanda, you know what? If you write this as a paper, I am even willing to give you an average score."
"Because you clearly stated your motives, proposed a method, implemented it resolutely, obtained certain data, and came to a conclusion. The argumentation process is very complete... much better than some people."
Amanda placed her hands on the edge of the operating table, leaned her body forward vertically, looked at Schiller's side face, and said:
"That's what you are like. In your opinion, the precious lives of ordinary people are just data. Those articles composed of coded words that appear in newspapers are behind one cruel murder case after another, and you only regard them as
A joke for fun.”
"Amanda, you are feeling pain too, why?" Schiller asked intermittently.
"Because I had hope for you, and so did my family." Amanda straightened her body, lowered her eyes, looked at Schiller's pale profile and said, "My parents thought my brother would have a good teacher.
But he killed them, and I thought I had met a good professor, but you are a serial murderer as brutal as them."
"You are determined and work hard, but there is only one problem." Schiller closed his eyes as if he was tired, and his hoarse voice was like a gust of wind blowing in a deserted canyon.
"You have no talent or talent, you are just an ordinary person."
"Shouldn't I be grateful for this?" Amanda's tone trembled: "Fortunately, I am an ordinary person with normal mind, not a damn lunatic like you!"
"If you don't understand us, you will never be able to deal with us." Schiller's Adam's apple trembled, and his voice gradually weakened: "Soon you will find that you have met a real genius... You will come back to me
of."
Amanda Waller stared at Schiller with cold eyes, but the readings and sounds of the instruments next to her told her that Schiller's vital signs were not optimistic. If she took some rough measures now, the professor would not have made a contribution.
opportunity.
So, after Amanda stared at Schiller for dozens of seconds, she turned around and walked out of the operating room. But before she could walk out of the corridor, she saw Davis walking quickly around the corner.
"Good news, Amanda." Davis raised his tone, looked at Amanda and said: "The Wayne Group took the initiative to contact me. They have shown strong interest in our project. Bruce Wayne may be able to help