“I can’t-- How da-- Wait-- Don’t touch-- Stop-- That’s-- You’ll-- This is-- DON’T!”

The Doctor sputtered indignantly, overwhelmed by everything he needed to say and all the things going wrong at the moment.

Jewel leaned forward to get right up in his face. “Get. [i]Working[/i],” she growled. 

Finkelstein’s lips curled in toward his teeth as her gaze bore into his own. His tongue seemed to turn to sandpaper as he tried to work back up the will to speak and remind her who was in charge. Which was him, of course. But…

Carver chose to remain silent and spectate this new dynamic, rather than further antagonize his creator. 

After several long seconds, the evil scientist dropped his shoulders and grunted. “Fine. If this is the only way to bring peace back into my lab, so be it. Somebody get me a reciprocating blade and a rotary saw.”

“Please and thank you,” Jewel corrected dryly. She stepped away from the platform and quickly retrieved the requested tools before the trio could try something like throwing them at her husband’s head.

“Your welcome,” Finkelstein replied. “Carver, put your arms above your head. I don’t want them getting in the way while I open your chest.”

Carver pulled his arms back and put his hands under his head like a pillow. “Open me up, Doc!”

The Doctor grumbled quietly to himself, but got started. It took a bit for the rotary saw to create a slit in the chest plate long and wide enough for the reciprocating blade to fit through, but once he switched tools, progress was made much more quickly. Soon, he had a rectangle cut out which was large enough for him to reach through and start unfastening the rivets from the inside.

He stuck his head into the hole to see where would be the best point to start -- and immediately yanked it back out again, hacking and wheezing and waving his arms about his face. His sinuses were so aflame that his body couldn't decipher whether or not his eyes themselves were also contaminated, but his goggles prevented any reflexive rubbing.

“MY EYES! IT--” *cough* “BURNS! WHAT IS-- [i]AAAAAAAAAAH[/i]!”

Before he could finish, two [i]very[/i] desperate rats flung themselves out into the newly present light and latched themselves onto the first surface they found: Finkelstein’s face. The sound of his attempts to clear his throat, nose, and lungs, quickly gave way to screaming.