dical Center.
Gunshots rang out from the operating room.
Everyone tensed up instantly.
"Rory, you got your phone?" Adam's mind raced as he turned to Nurse Rory beside him.
"Yeah," she said, pulling it out quick.
"Dial my number. It's—"
*Ring ring!*
"I've got your number, Dr. Duncan," Rory cut in, already calling before he could finish.
"Perfect. Keep it on speaker and stay connected," Adam said, picking up the call. "lendez, Carter, keep updated. I'll be right back."
"Dr. Duncan, you—" Carter started, wide-eyed, but Adam was already gone.
"It's dicey by the OR. I'm checking it out," Adam's voice crackled through the phone. "Don't worry, just focus on the surgery."
"Yes, sir."
"Be careful, Dr. Duncan!"
"I've got this."
Adam sprinted over, breathing steady as he kept the line open.
Not like he was trying to play hero or anything.
The rookie cop's condition was stable under lendez's hands—Adam's guidance worked just fine from afar.
But over in the OR? This so-called "war god" had no limits. Cutting the hospital's power to stir chaos? Now gunshots?
Who knew if he'd lose it completely and start mowing people down?
Given what these soldiers got up to overseas, Adam wasn't holding his breath for rcy.
If he were powerless, he'd be hiding faster than anyone.
But with his growing strength, speed, stamina—and bullet ti—he could handle himself.
So, rushing over to save his team while keeping himself safe? That was a no-brainer.
Operating Room.
"Help! Help!"
Two hospital security guards huddled behind a corner, yelling for backup. One's leg was bleeding.
"Where's the guy?" Adam asked, arriving on the scene.
"Inside the OR," one guard stamred, terrified.
"Press down on the wound," Adam instructed after a quick check—luckily, no artery hit.
He crept toward the OR, peeking in. A soldier stood there, gun aid at everyone.
Dr. Shepter, mid-surgery, held a probe deep in a patient's brain, staring the guy down.
"Hands up!" the soldier barked.
"I can't. If I let go, he could die," Shepter said, voice strained.
"You know what this guy's done?!" the soldier snapped, jabbing his gun toward the patient. "It's creeps like him helping the real monsters that got so many old folks stuck in hell!"
"You an Golden Glow, right? We know. We're all on the victims' side here," Shepter said, keeping cool. "But we're doctors. This is a hospital. Doesn't matter who the patient is—we save them. Judging him? That's for a judge."
"A judge?" The soldier sneered. "Those bastards deserve to die too! You think I'd let this guy off?"
"…" The staff stayed dead quiet, too scared to breathe.
"Don't play saint with . Doctors are just as guilty in this ss," the soldier growled, eyes bloodshot. "Pick a side—us, or them. Help these scumbags, and you're no better!"
Shepter opened his mouth to argue, but the soldier cut him off. "Two sides only!"
"…" Shepter stared down the barrel, silent for a beat, then rasped, "Sorry, I'm a doctor…"
"Then you're dead!" The soldier's grin twisted as he aid at Shepter, finger brushing the trigger.
"You're the one who's dead!"
Adam sensed the danger and snapped into bullet ti. In a flash, he charged in, grabbing the soldier's right hand and twisting hard—snapping the wrist like a twig.
*Bang!*
A shot fired.
This guy was a pro killer—even with Adam's lightning move, he still squeezed off a round through the pain.
Too late, though.
With his gun hand broken, the barrel dipped. The bullet hit the floor, not Shepter, who stood steady, eyes shut, probe still in place.
"Argh!" The soldier howled, battle instincts kicking in. His left hand darted for the gun at his waist.
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Yup, he'd co loaded—guns and ammo all over him.
In bullet ti, Adam clocked it early. He seized the soldier's left hand, kicked him flat to the ground, and pinned that arm behind his back.
"Dr. Clark, sedative!" Adam shouted at the anesthesiologist, holding the guy down tight.
"Uh, uh—" Dr. Clark blinked, frozen, legs too shaky to move.
No ti to wait. Adam kept one hand locking the soldier's arms, stomped his broken-but-still-twitching right hand into submission, and grabbed his phone with the other. "Alright, lendez, talk to !"
lendez's voice ca through: "I pulled a small clot from the pericardium. No obvious heart damage."
"Any change in vitals?" Adam asked.
"BP's still low, barely registering…" lendez replied.
"I'LL KILL YOU!!!" The pinned soldier roared, thrashing uselessly.
"Shut it!" Adam shot him an annoyed glance, then addressed the stunned OR crew. "You lot, keep the surgery going! O'Malley! Stop gaping—sedative, now!"
Back to the phone: "We need to cross-clamp the aorta. Reach in, cut with scissors 'til you feel two tubular structures—esophagus is up front."
"I feel a vessel—collapses easy. Another's tougher, softer. Spine's right below," lendez said, hands deep in the patient.
"Yup, that's the aorta," Adam said with a grin. "Wrap your left index finger around it, then grab the clamp with your right."
"Done," lendez said, a little hyped. "Bleeding's from the inferior vena cava. Think I can stop it."
"Can you find the wound?" Adam pressed.
"Yeah," lendez confird. "But it's too far to stitch."
"How big's the hole?"
"Tiny—smaller than a di," lendez answered.
"Good," Adam said. "lendez, plug it with your finger."
"Plugged," lendez reported. "I feel blood flowing back to the heart. Pulse is stronger now."
"Aweso," Adam praised. "Hold that. Rory, get the firefighters moving—extract them fast and get to OR 3. I'll et you there."
"Yes, sir!" Rory piped up.
The phone buzzed with her calling out to the firefighters.
"lendez, Carter—great work!" Adam said. "Pretty sure you're dodging speeding tickets from now on."
Carter's goofy laugh crackled through the line.
"O'Malley! Sedative! Sedative! How many tis do I have to say it?!" Adam kept the call live but shifted focus, yelling at George, who was still sluggish from the shock.
The OR crew: "…"
(End of Chapter)
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