A tall man with black apparel, a long scar across his neck, a poorly shaved head, and several bullet wounds entered through the glass double doors of Sacred Heart Hospital, sauntering towards the front desk.
Nurse Tisdale dropped the chart she was holding, and also her lower jaw. "Um, may I be of any assistance?" she squeaked.
The man gave her a look that was a cross between a grimace and a scowl. "Yes, that would be helpful."
JD walked into the examination room. "Good evening, I'm Doctor-- holy shit!" He dropped the patient's chart, papers scattering everywhere. "Um, d-do you have medical insurance? Because it looks like you could use a surgical consult, Mr…."
The man smirked. "Victor. Victor Kruger. And no, that won't be necessary."
"Um, right, Mr. Kruger…" the young doctor finished lamely. He stood rooted in place, staring blatantly.
Victor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Some rubbing alcohol and forceps would be nice. Or some scotch if you have any."
"Sorry, I believe we're all out of scotch," JD muttered, still staring. "Though you really look like you could use some," he remarked as an afterthought.
"Rubbing alcohol will do, then." He gave a despondent sigh.
JD pointed to the door. "Right-- I'll just-- Um--" He didn't bother to finish his sentence. He made a move as if to bolt, only to slip on the sheets of paper scattered all over the floor.
He returned momentarily with a metal tray, putting it down next to Victor. On it was a packaged sterilized needle, a spool of thread, gauze, medical tape, a capped syringe, and the forceps and rubbing alcohol he'd requested.
JD watched as Victor peeled away his blood drenched vest. "Um, want an anesthetic?"
Victor shook his head. "That's okay, kid."
The young doctor frowned. "So, are you like, Patrick Swayze in Road House or something?"
JD quickly shook his head. "Um, nothing." He watched with morbid fascination as Victor dug through his bleeding bullet holes with the forceps, easily plucking pieces of metal from beneath his skin. "Say, have you ever played Operation?"
Victor snorted and rolled his eyes, tweezing the last of the shrapnel from his abdomen. He handed JD the bloody forceps. "Thanks, kid."
JD stared at the forceps like he'd never laid eyes on one before. "Um, you're welcome."
He shrugged on his vest and pushed off the examination table.
"Uh, wait!" JD cried as Victor was making his way out the door.
The taller man looked back at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"How…" The young doctor swallowed, pointing at Victor's abdomen. "How'd that happen?"
Victor smirked. "Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be immortal and have some crazed Vietnam survivor empty a twenty round magazine into ya?"
"No, I don't think so," JD replied lamely.
He shook his head. "Do me a favor and don't keep my records, will you?"
Victor, however, had lost JD to a daydream. "What a great party trick!"
The tall man rolled his eyes as he made his way out the door. "Livens up bar mitzvahs, weddings, and communions, I'm sure."