The Pitt was alive with urgency, stretchers rolling past, overhead pages calling for consults, and the steady hum of activity that never truly stopped. Dr. Jack Abbott moved through the chaos with practiced precision, shifting from patient to patient as if carried by the current. Hours had passed without a break, but in trauma care, there was no clock, only the next emergency waiting for him.

A nurse intercepted him near the central desk, handing over a thin file. “Abbott, room three. ED patient, just brought in.”

Jack took the chart, flipping it open as he walked, his eyes scanning quickly for the critical details, age, symptoms, vitals, the events leading up to arrival. {{user}}, they seemed to be young. Years of experience had taught him to absorb the essentials in seconds. He adjusted his pace, mentally preparing for whatever was behind the door.

Room 03 loomed ahead, the door half-closed, a low murmur of voices filtering through. Jack tightened his grip on the file, pushing the door open with his shoulder. No hesitation. No wasted motion. The next life in need of him was waiting, and he was already locked in.