Disinfectant, Patients and Trips to the Morgue

Benedetto stormed into his hospital, or what he considered to be his, and immediately went to his office. He then went into the bathroom, stocked with disinfectants and infectious treatments and began dousing his cut hands and forearms with various things. They all burned like mad, some smelled - that general stereotypical disinfectant smell, of rubbing alcohol. His skin began to take on a pinkish hue before he rinsed under cold water. Bandaging himself up, Benedetto muttered to himself - both promises that Corday would soon die, as soon as Kate was finished with him, and words to soothe and calm himself. Rarely did he lose his composure in such a dramatic and complete way. Surely the nurses and attendants in the halls he had passed were wondering what had happened - they had all sent feelings of curiosity to him as he pushed past. In return he sent merely frustration and reassurance; it had been unpleasant, but he'd be just fine. Immediately after finished dressing his wounds, Benedetto changed his clothes and washed the remaining mud from his face and hair.

He wondered, of course not for the first time, of all the ways he could choose - which would be the best and most fulfilling way to kill Corday? Euthanasia was far too kind and far too painless, but perhaps towards the end he would offer it. To torture was the foundation of what he would plan, but most methods were far to base. He wanted something that would make Corday beg, plead, and cry for mercy. Benedetto wouldn't give it, but it's nice to be begged for it anyway. An intriguing idea was to start with the feet or hands and move towards the core slowly. It was rather traditional, but breaking bones one by one always had a special place in one's heart - maybe he'd remove the bones one by one, now there's an idea. Break it, then slice the skin and muscle tissues to remove it. That would rip the cartilage too, how appealing. Benedetto filed that idea away to save for a rainy day.

Benedetto sat down at his desk, cleaned and bandaged, and began doing work - analyzing images of infections and trying to determine their cause. At the moment he had, again, numerous case files to diagnose and it appeared as though, again, he'd be sending a few down to the morgue to wait in line. Soon enough he would go and view the patients from beyond a pane of glass, ask some questions pertaining to symptoms and form a decision. Treatment or Morgue.

He began to feel a bit more calm.