! written by u/flamablep on 2014-12-21

The pager on my hip buzzed, stirring my from my brief nap in the canteen.

Surg:Ast:Burke:3B

It took a moment for my brain to translate the pager code. Assistant Surgeon, for Dr Burke, theatre three b.

"I gotta run guys, I'll catch up with you later."

My fellow interns nodded or ignored me completely as I dashed to the locker room to scrub up. I pulled open my locker and removed a set of green scrubs, changing quickly. All the while, my heart was pounding. I was going to assist Nigel Burke, arguably the best surgeon in the world. Few had been lucky enough to see him in action; rumour was that he could complete a brain surgery in under two minutes. I guess I'd have to see for myself. When I was dressed, I grabbed a do-rag from the top shelf of my locker and put it on, making sure that none of my hair was showing. Satisfied, I sprinted from the locker room to the operating wing, dodging other shambling interns and doctors.

I was already running thirty seconds late, which, in a life-or-death scenario, is dangerous. Thirty seconds could mean life or death. Pulling a set of latex gloves on my hands and a mask over my face, I passed through the decontamination room and entered the wing.

There he was. Doctor Nigel Burke. In the flesh.

He stood there stony-faced, a single hand outstretched. A clipboard hung from the side of the door and I picked it up, scanning through it.

"Patient's name is Bob. Thirty years old. Acute hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Requires a heart transplant."

Dr. Burke said nothing, instead his hand flew forward a little. I held my breath and went to stand by the utensils, prepared to hand him whatever he needed.

He brought his hand down, hard, making me jump. It landed roughly on the sheet which covered the pre-prepared entry point, and he flexed his fingers, as though to grasp the sheet. After a moment, he gained a hold on the thin sheet, and whipped it sideways, scattering a few scalpels and drifting onto the floor. The patient's exposed ribs were brilliant white as Dr Burke laid his palm flat against them. What was he doing?

Intrigued, I moved forwards a little to stand beneath the heart-rate monitor. Dr Burke grasped again, gaining purchase on one of the man's floating ribs, and tugging with all his might. The strangest part was that only his arm was moving- the rest of his body was stock-still. Upon further inspection I noticed he was not wearing latex gloves, and he had not even removed his watch. I spoke too soon, however, when the buckle freed itself before slipping from Dr Burke's wrist and landing wetly inside the patient's chest cavity.

Burke reacted quickly, grabbing hold of what looked like a claw hammer, grasping it by the head before smashing his now-clenched fist down onto Bob's sternum. There was a resounding crack and my eyes widened as the surgeon repeated the process several times, causing severe trauma to the patient's lungs and liver.

"Doctor, what're y-" My question was interrupted as Burke dropped the hammer, leaving it on the patient's throat, and flung shards of rib onto the floor. The bones rattle hollowly and I gasped as the doctor then proceeded to tug at the man's lungs with his bare hands!

"Dr Burke! you're going to-" I exclaimed, as the trachea was disconnected and both lungs were hurled against the glass of the operating theatre.

I watched, speechless, as the surgeon pulled out every vital organ the man owned, save for his heart, until Bob's chest cavity was little more than a red gaping hole with a beating heart inside. How the man was still alive I had no idea; his blood levels were reaching dangerously low, and despite my urging, Burke said nothing. He flipped open the transplant box and grasped the heart with his bloody hands.

"You're going to decontaminate the ne-" I stopped myself as I nearly tripped over what seemed to be the patient's small intestine.

Burke ripped the man's still beating heart clean from his chest and relaxed his fingers, letting the heart slip from his grasp. It tucked itself between the bed and the utensil tray, still beating weakly. Blood levels were critical, but despite this, Dr Burke slammed the heart into the patient's chest cavity even as a basketball player might slam a ball through a net.

"SUCCESS." He barked, before turning on his heel and leaving the theatre.