Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.
They do not Stop for Death
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, latex encased fingers drawing across waxen skin to tuck it securely behind her ear. Blue eyes narrowed on her slack features, the partially opened mouth that was currently tinted the palest of purples. His gaze slipped over her nude frame, lips thinning at the sight of the angry red lines and the haphazard stitches that split her once glorious form into perfect symmetry.
He shifted back, his hand hovering a moment over the instrument table before selecting a pair of surgical scissors. Isaacs’ gloved covered fingers wrapped around the stainless steel as he turned back to his subject. One hand rose to lift the protective mask and his breath helped mold it to his face as he leaned forward and began the painfully slow process of removing a neophyte’s conception of sutures.
The arduous task continued until a cultured voice interrupted his progress, “Dr. Isaacs.”
He rose back to his full height, brows slipping together at the sight of the artificial intelligence that monitored all beings found within Umbrella’s laboratories. Her head cocked and wide dark eyes, similar to his subject, stared up at him. Through him and not for the first time he was grateful to have been given full access to this facility rather than the Hive—Dr. Simon Barr had taken far too much of a liking to Charles’ daughter with that rudimentary program.
He resisted the urge to offer her a waspish retort and simply incline his head in return. “Yes?”
“The containment vessel has been prepared to your precise specifications.”
“I was merely doing as requested.” The holograph’s head righted, waist length hair slipping past her shoulders to fall ruler straight down her back. Her gaze dropped and she focused on the cadaver currently beneath Isaacs’ expert hand. “Is the specimen ready for transport?”
“Then I shall complete the final preparations for the Duchess Program.”
Isaacs’ brow rose as the White Queen’s image simply vanished and his lips lifted as he returned his gaze to his subject, removing the last of the non-absorbable stitching and reached for the synthetic polyglycolic sutures that her body could readily absorb during the healing processes.
Once again returning to his meticulous task Isaacs silently thanked Quentin Travers for being so narrow-minded and wasteful with his charges. The success of Rabbit gave him great hope for his newest acquisition.