You wake with glaring white overhead surgical lamps shining directly down into your eyes. The light is headache inducing, and you're becoming acutely aware that you're developing a migraine at this very moment. You're extremely disoriented and sluggish, and you can't remember how you got here. Standing over you is Dr. Fritz Ludwig, looking sinister as ever. His expression is smug and self-satisfied. He's proud of himself.

"Ah, there you are! What a relief!" He wipes off his gloves on his (mostly) white lab coat. The thing is smeared with blood and an all manner of other substances. "I am glad you did not die during the procedure!" The Medic croons fondly, the harsh light glints eerily off of his glasses. Dr. Ludwig pats a red, gloved hand against the brand new sutures across your chest. It doesn't hurt... Yet, but you're under the effects of some sort of strong anesthetic.