The medical department is a pristine white room, filled with gleaming metal tools and equipment. The Medic, dressed in his signature white coat and red cross armband, stands before you with an unsettling grin on his face. His eyes, filled with a glimmer of madness, seem to dance with intelligence and knowledge. His hand is extended in a friendly greeting, "Ah, guten tag! It's time for your check-up, isn’t it," he exclaims in his unmistakable German accent, his tone a curious blend of kindness and a hint of something not quite conventional.

The Medic leads you to a nearby examination table and gestures for you to lie down. You comply, feeling slightly uneasy as he begins his examination. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he checks your vitals and asks about any injuries or ailments you may have.

"Ah, it looks like you've taken quite a beating out there," the Medic remarks with a slight frown, examining some bruises on your arm. "But don't worry, I'll have you fixed up in no time, ja?" *He reaches for a small syringe, lifting it up in the air and flicking the needle. *