Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

In Reid Hospital...

Eric Vaughn was being wheeled on a gurney into an operating room. Several specialists from the hospital's colorectal surgery department gathered around, their faces grim.

They looked down at the bandages covering his backside. They were completely soaked through with dark red blood, interspersed with disturbing flecks of yellow-brown. The surgeons exchanged uneasy glances, frowning deeply, visibly hesitant about what to do next.

"Good Lord, what did he do?" muttered one surgeon, a man with glasses perched on his nose. He nervously ran a hand through his thinning hair, utterly perplexed. "We just stitched him up yesterday! How in the hell did he manage to tear everything open again in less than twenty-four hours?"

"It makes no sense," another specialist agreed, his brow furrowed in deep confusion. "A normal patient wouldn't... this just doesn't happen. We worked hard to close that wound. I honestly cannot comprehend how he managed to rip his stitches out like this."

"Ripped stitches are one thing," the lead surgeon, standing by the operating table, cut in sharply. He took an involuntary step back, his expression radiating pure disgust. He clearly didn't even want to look too closely. "I can understand bleeding if you tear your backside open. But how did he manage to explode feces everywhere too?!"

The sight of the yellow specks scattered amidst the bright red blood on Eric's bandages brought back unpleasant memories for the lead surgeon, vivid recollections of when this 'pervert,' as he thought of him, had first been admitted, and the absolutely horrific state of his rear end they'd had to deal with then.

The initial tear had been so shockingly severe it had made them question if Vaughn was even human. Seriously, what kind of person managed to expel feces with enough force to nearly blast their own intestines out?

A younger surgeon broke the tense silence. "So... are we stitching him up again, Director?"

You could practically feel the resistance radiating from every specialist in the room. Cleaning up and repairing this man's backside the first time had been nauseating enough. The thought of going through that ordeal again was almost unbearable.

"Director," the surgeon with the glasses spoke up, his voice strained. "After we finished with him last time... I honestly couldn't eat properly for hours."

All eyes turned to the older man, Director, designated as the lead surgeon for this unpleasant task.

After a long, heavy pause, the Director slowly put down his scalpel. He pulled off his surgical mask and then his gloves, his expression thoughtful but firm.

"Hold on. This patient... I remember him. Wasn't he the one who caused that major disturbance in the hospital a while back? Assaulted five of our doctors, if I recall correctly?"

"Yes, Director," the surgeon with the glasses confirmed immediately, nodding. "That's him."

"Go get those five," the old man known as the Director chuckled as he walked out of the operating room. "Today's surgery is their job now."

The second he was outside, he didn't even look back, he just started running as fast as he could.

With the Director gone, the actual colorectal specialists just stood there, staring blankly at each other inside the operating room.

One of them finally spoke up, hesitant. "Uh... is this really a good idea? Those five aren't butt doctors. What if they actually mess up and kill him? Sir was very clear: the guy can be barely alive, but he has to be able to get out of bed. He's got that task for him tonight."

Yeah, messing up the Alex plans would be the end for them.

"It'll probably be fine," another specialist muttered, trying to convince himself. "So what if they're not specialists? It's just a small job. Taking out stitches and sewing him back up doesn't take a genius."

And just like that, Eric's surgery was ridiculously passed off to a completely different set of doctors.

"Just remember," one of the specialists called out as they were leaving, feeling a last-minute bit of conscience, "the Boss needs him for a task tonight. He has to be able to walk and climb stairs." They made sure to tell the five replacements the absolute bottom line for the surgery.

"Don't you worry," the oldest of the five new doctors said, his face looking so kind and trustworthy. His voice was soft, too. "We know exactly what we're doing. Doctors have to be caring, right? We'll be gentle." Honestly, he looked like the perfect picture of a doctor who really cared about his patients.

The operating room door clicked shut.

The five put on their surgical gowns and masks.

The oldest doctor walked cheerfully over to the operating table. He looked down at the face lying there. So, he thought bitterly, 'this is the punk who got my front teeth knocked out, at my age!'

He turned to the others. "We don't really need to give him anesthesia, right?"

A tall, skinny doctor beside him nodded. "Yeah, probably not. That stuff's expensive. I asked the head nurse on the way in, this guy is totally broke. Hasn't paid a cent for his hospital stay or treatment. No point wasting the Boss's money on him."

"Oh, yeah," a doctor with a square jaw, the type that usually looks honest, suddenly piped up. "What exactly are we supposed to be doing to this guy, anyway?"

The other four just shook their heads. The specialists hadn't actually told them the specifics.

'Well then, time to improvise!'

One suggested, "Okay, my guess is... first, we take out the stitches on his... you know... backside. Then we just sew it back up."

"Nope, not good enough. Definitely not enough," the oldest one said, stroking his chin, that kind look still plastered on his face. "Let's give him a vasectomy while we're at it."

'Holy crap!' the others thought silently. 'Okay, you're seriously twisted.'

Someone else threw in, "Maybe remove a hemorrhoid too?"

One of them glanced at Eric's butt, wrapped tightly in bandages. 'It's covered up so much, how could he even have a hemorrhoid under there?' he wondered.