The Great Belligerency [Round 4: Static]

Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.

---

Phil approached the waiting room door, then opened it. As he strolled leisurely into the waiting room, accompanied by two of the soldiers he had trained, the on-duty doctor's heart started beating faster and faster. By the time Phil reached his desk, he had made his peace with the world and was ready to meet his fate. Phil laid an arm on the doctor's desk and slowly raised his gun barrel up to his head. He paused for a moment, then pulled the trigger, and the doctor's brains were splattered across the wall behind his desk. The doctor's body fell to the floor, slowing down until it was no longer moving until the world paused, just as Phil did. No, that's not quite how it happened. The doctor's body moved back up into a sitting position as the organic stain on the back wall neatly poured itself back into his head. Phil lifted his gun barrel from the man's forehead and stood up from the desk, then strolled back across the waiting room to the door, his two companions entering it just before he did. He backed out of the room and pulled the door shut. Everything slowed to a stop once again, and then sped up to normal speed. Phil stood in front of the waiting room door for a moment, then pulled it open.

Phil strolled leisurely into the waiting room, flanked by his two squad mates. He walked over to the desk and carefully removed his helmet. "Are you able to fix this?"

To his credit, the doctor hardly batted an eye at the scarred mass of facial tissue he was presented with. "I believe so, Mr. Girnham. It should only take twenty minutes." He stood up from his chair and made for the back room. "If you'll follow me, we can begin." Phil nodded to one of the two soldiers, who set himself up to guard the door. The other followed Phil into the back room, where the doctor was prepping a machine suspended by a pole at about head level relative to the chair in front of it. The doctor stepped back from the machine and gestured towards the chair. "Please have a seat and we can begin the facial reconstruction."

Phil took a seat and placed his face into the machine, closing his eyes. The doctor stepped up to a computer next to it and hit a few keys. Then a few more, and a few more. After two minutes had passed, Phil pulled his head out of the machine. "Is something supposed to be happening?"

The doctor responded without looking away from the screen. "There doesn't seem to be an image anywhere in the citizen database of your face before it was scarred, Mr. Girnham. The machine needs to know what's scarred tissue and what's not, or it could only make it worse."

Phil's face darkened. He had ensured that every record of him had been removed when he broke out of the military facility, and the government had already wiped all his recorded history prior to that. To his knowledge, no pictures of his face before the operation still existed. "I see. Thank you for your time, doctor." He stood up and put his helmet back on, walking out of the office. He walked out into the waiting room and left through the door, followed by both soldiers. They kept well behind; neither wanted to get near Phil when he was in a bad mood.