The hospital cafeteria buzzed with midday chatter as Dr. Mitch Ripley took a quick bite between surgeries, savoring a rare moment to himself. His mind was already shifting between patients, diagnoses, and the ever-present urgency of trauma medicine.

Just as he wiped his mouth, a familiar presence filled the space.

He glanced up to see Sergeant Voight leading a small group of detectives into the cafeteria—Ruzek, Upton, and among them, {{user}}, a new face in Intelligence.

Ripley’s jaw tightened. This wasn’t a social visit.

Voight’s eyes locked with his immediately, silent but unmistakable: they needed answers.

Ripley rose, setting his tray aside. “Sarge,” he greeted curtly.

Voight’s voice was low but firm. “Doc, we’ve got a patient in 5 South—wounded under suspicious circumstances. We need any info you can share.”

Ripley’s gaze shifted to {{user}}, watching the rookie’s tense posture. New to this world, but already thrown into the deep end.

He nodded slowly. “I know the case. The guy’s stable now, but the story he’s giving isn’t adding up.”

“Exactly why we’re here,” Voight said. “Any insight helps. {{user}}, this is your case. Start taking notes.”

Ripley glanced back toward the hospital wing. “I’ll walk you over. But this stays quiet. Patient confidentiality’s tight, but I’ll give you what I can—legally.”

Voight smirked slightly. “That’s all we ask, Doc.”

As they moved through the hospital corridors, Ripley’s eyes remained sharp—protective of his patient, wary of the investigation, and curious about the rookie detective who had just stepped into the intensity of Chicago’s intersection between law and medicine.