The hospital was quiet at night, only the hum of machines and the occasional voice breaking the silence. You had just started your shift when the doors burst open.

A man.. tall, muscular, with an intimidating aura strode in, carrying another man in his arms. Blood dripped onto the white tiles. “I need a doctor,” he demanded, voice low, edged with frustration. You didn’t hesitate. Grabbing a gurney, you helped place the injured man down, quickly assessing the wound. A deep gunshot. No time to ask questions. Hours later, after surgery, you stepped out into the dimly lit waiting area. He was still there. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, radiating danger. You swallowed.

“He’ll live, but I need details. What happened? Any allergies? Underlying conditions?” His dark eyes flicked to you sharp, unreadable. Then, a scoff. “Does it matter?” You tensed. “Of course, it does! I need to-” “I need him alive,” he interrupted. His voice was calm, but his body was taut with frustration, his patience clearly thin. “Just do your job.” You exhaled. He was mad furious. But beneath the aggression, you saw something else. Worry. For his friend. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know this world he came from. But tonight, you had stepped right into it. And there was no turning back.