William had taken to pacing around the room again, but he rounded quickly on his heels when he heard the noise issue from the other man's mouth. He crossed the room, grabbing the communication device and holding it to his ear.
"Spencer, you didn't place me in here to revive a man. Are you waiting to see which one of us kills the other first?" There was something downright combative about the feeling issuing from the other man, and he didn't like it one bit. His mind raced -- if he were to be instigated into a fight, how would his body react? How would the virus react? Would he mutate again to suit the situation? There was no doubt he would win, especially against an injured enemy, but William... didn't want to mutate.
Spencer, of course, didn't answer.
Setting the communicator down on the table, Birkin stared down at Sergei, eyes searching the man. He turned to the cabinets lining the room and began to open them, stopping when he came upon one that was refrigerated. It was filled with carefully-labeled syringes. Perhaps he would find something that would revive Sergei.
And it was then that the communicator came to life.
"Very good, Dr. Birkin," the voice stated, amusement apparent. "There is a syringe there with Sergei's name on it. It's a mix of drugs with a certain other compound. If you use it, he should revive."
Birkin's shoulders tensed at the voice. "If you knew what needed to be done, why call me?" he asked, although it was mostly under his breath.
He slowly reached into the fridge, grabbing for Sergei's syringe. He stopped suddenly, however, upon seeing an empty syringe next to it -- only this one was labeled "William Birkin".
His hesitation lasted for only a moment before he reached for Sergei's and popped the plastic top from the needle. He moved towards the man, taking a cotton ball he wet with alcohol from the small table. He took ahold of Sergei's quivering arm and held it down, locating the large, easily visible vein. Quickly cleaning the spot, he inserted the syringe and pushed the mixture in.
He would be interested to see what happened to the man. Very interested indeed. Had the syringe marked with his name in the fridge been filled with the same compound? Or had there never been anything inside, and Spencer had only planted it for William to find, to fear?
He grit his teeth in anger. If Albert were there...
Pulling the syringe from Sergei's skin, William set it down, and stepped back, grabbing the communicator and holding it almost too tight in his hand.
"Arise, my monster," he said, quietly, and any amusement that should have been in his voice was completely gone, his mouth too dry to speak much more than that.