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Dr. Frankenstein. Dr. Moreau. Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman. Any time a physician starts messing around creating life, trying to improve the species with a giraffe neck or two, or taming a cowboy's heart, you can bet things are going to end badly. The moral of these stories? Play God, and there is a 100% chance you will be mauled to death by leopard men.
To that we say pshht. The real moral of Frankenstein is: If you're going to bring a guy back to life with lightning, maybe don't give him the brain of a serial killer. Try a vegan librarian. If you're stitching together animal-man hybrids, how about not jumping straight to ravenous hyenas? Start with hamsters, see how that goes, and work your way up the food chain.
Never toil in God's domain? Good advice if you're an idiot. If you know what you're doing, though, toil away. Why not give the Demo a couple extra livers? Why not replace Sniper's spine with a giant piece of sheet metal? Why not stitch a mouth onto Scout's backside so he can literally talk out of his ass?
Which brings us to our point. Not every mad doctor lives in a castle surrounded by villagers with pitchforks. Sometimes they live in the trenches, where there's plenty of spare parts flying around and a pressing need to get inventive with them.
Let's Meet the Medic.