Medical Center. Front Entrance.
An ambulance sat all alone out front. Inside, a young, pretty woman in a uniform was sweating bullets, her right hand buried in a bloody chest, her eyes wide with pure terror. 😱
"You guys, hurry up and save my husband!"
The patient's wife, who'd been screaming in panic earlier, finally snapped out of it. She noticed everyone standing a mile away, not lifting a finger to help, and lost it.
"Sorry, we can't go near him until the bomb squad gets here," Adam said, shaking his head.
No way, dude.
Sure, he had that bullet-time trick and was faster than your average Joe, but that didn't mean he could just stroll over, take over for the uniform chick, yank a rocket out of the guy's body, and chuck it like a pro.
The bomb's explosion speed? Unknown.
The blast power? Unknown.
But the vibe it was giving off? Super bad news.
If it went off in his hands—or even near him—he'd be toast. 🎶 Cue the funeral dirge. 🎶
Yeah, Adam was all about saving lives—super dedicated, even.
But let's not forget why: he did it to rack up safe, steady rescues and extend his own lifespan. You know, to keep living.
Now, asking him to risk his neck for some random stranger?
Sorry, not happening!
He'd worked way too hard to forget who he was.
He wasn't some saint!
Shouting, "Don't worry, I'll raise your wife for you!" might sound cool as hell.
But having someone yell that at him? Total crapshow.
If he messed up now, who'd end up with all his stuff? No clue!
Only an idiot would take that gamble. 🙅♂️
"You're doctors! Saving people is your job!" the wife shrieked again, totally losing it.
"Saving people? Yup, that's our gig. Defusing bombs? Not so much," Adam shot back, ice-cold. "We've gotta wait for the bomb squad to neutralize the threat before we can do anything."
Dr. Burke stood off to the side, looking torn. After wrestling with it, he stayed quiet.
If he'd jumped in blind at the start, he might've stuck it out for his own sense of duty. But now? Not only had he not touched the case, he was half-convinced the guy was a human bomb terrorist. No way was he playing hero.
"Exactly! We're medics, not bomb techs!"
"Who knows if they're terrorists pulling some stunt?!"
"What normal person has a rocket in them?!"
"If she really loved her husband, she'd drive that ambulance to the middle of nowhere and pull the rocket out herself. That's true love. Why's she expecting us to play bomb squad?"
"She totally knows about the pink mist—that's why she's not budging."
"Pink mist?"
"You don't know? When a bomb goes off, anyone caught in it gets shredded into a million pieces. If it's strong enough, you're liquefied—or even vaporized. One second you're a person, the next you're a bloody cloud. Nothing left but mushy bits."
"OMG! That's horrifying! We're just regular medics, not battlefield docs!"
"In the U.S., is there even a difference?"
"Thank God Dr. Duncan's got sharp instincts. He sniffed out the danger and warned us early, or we'd all be dead—and this hospital would be a crater."
The staff, huddled way back, were buzzing with shaky voices.
Relief mixed with gratitude for Adam—and some serious shade thrown at the couple who started this mess. 😤
"We're not terrorists!" the wife yelled, overhearing them. Her face went red as she roared at everyone, but her feet didn't move an inch.
"Mindy, what're you doing here? Where's James?"
A car rolled up and stopped. Out stepped a white guy in his forties, decked out in a WWII Allied uniform, blood splattered on him. He called out to the wife.
"You idiot! You killed James!"
Mindy spotted him and went off. "Hurry up and save him!"
"I'm not a doctor!"
The guy blinked, totally confused, looking at the crowd. "You're all doctors—why aren't you saving James?"
"Because there's a freaking rocket in his body!!!" Mindy exploded. "You and James, you morons—how old are you two? Still playing these dangerous games…"
"It's not a game!" the guy cut in, annoyed. "We're reenacting! We perfectly recreated the WWII Allied anti-tank weapon—the M9A1 rocket launcher!"
"Wait—you fired the rocket?" Adam asked, floored.
He'd heard Americans were wild, but this? This blew his mind all over again. 🤯
"We were testing it in the backyard. I was the gunner, James was the loader. We followed the specs to a T—60mm caliber, 1.5 pounds, absolute perfection…" The guy rambled, slipping back into geek-mode about his flawless replica.
"How big's the blast?" Adam interrupted.
"Uh, no idea," the guy said, thrown off. "It's an anti-tank weapon, though, so… pretty huge."
"And now that huge rocket you fired is lodged in James's body, ready to blow any second!" Mindy snapped. "If you're really his best friend and war buddy, then get over there, drive the ambulance somewhere empty, pull the rocket out of him, and let the doctors save him! Time's running out—James is dying!"
"…"
The WWII cosplay dude froze, finally realizing the rocket he'd launched hadn't gone off—it was sitting in his buddy's gut, ticking like a time bomb.
"Mindy, you know I'm French-Italian. I'd love to save James, but this isn't my thing. Let's wait for the bomb squad…"
"…"
Adam and the others twitched their lips.
What a legend.
French-Italian heritage, so he's cosplaying a French-Italian soldier.
Can't do squat, but tops at bailing!
No flaws there!
It's like Sheldon and Leonard's gaming crew—snagging the Blade of Essenor, letting Leonard's team get wiped out, then teleporting away shouting, "I'm the Swordmaster!"
Auctioning it off pronto, then hitting Leonard's crew with, "I'm a Night Elf Rogue—didn't you read the character bio?" like it's no big deal. 😂
"What's the situation?"
The bomb squad finally rolled in, fast.
Adam filled them in, and the team leader just stared, speechless. This was next-level stupidity—and dragging everyone else down with it.
"How's the building evacuation going?"
"Still in progress," Dr. Burke piped up, keeping tabs. "Some surgeries can't stop mid-procedure."
Like Dr. Shepter, elbow-deep in a craniotomy. Stop now? Patient's 100% dead.
"I say we move the ambulance to an empty spot ASAP and defuse there," Adam suggested.
"No can do. Homemade bombs are too unstable—can't risk moving it," the bomb squad leader shot down.
Adam didn't argue.
This was pro territory now.
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