The next day, sunlight was streaming through the windows as Zen drove up to the hospital. He pulls into a parking spot, the engine of his car purring to a stop. As he steps out, a familiar voice cuts through the morning air.“Well, well, well. Look who’s gracing us with his presence,” Tasha teases, a playful smirk on her face. She’s leaning against a nearby wall, her arms crossed over her chest, clearly having been waiting for him.Zen glances over, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Tasha,” he acknowledges with a nod. “What are you doing out here so early?”“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorts, pushing off the wall to walk over to him. “Or maybe you’re just another rich kid who likes making a grand entrance?”Zen chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize driving a regular car was considered grand.”“Oh, please,” Tasha rolls her eyes. “That’s not a regular car, and you know it. I bet there’s a lot more to you than you let on. Probably some trust fund you’re hiding
Zen and Tasha walked through the hospital entrance, their footsteps echoing in the bustling hallway. The scent of antiseptic in the air, mingling with the quiet hum of activity. Nurses and doctors walking around, their faces set with the seriousness of their duties. Zen is scanning the surroundings, still thinking about the run-in with Sonia, when a familiar voice calls out. “Tom!” Zen turns and sees Nia approaching, her face lighting up with a smile. She was wearing yunusual vibrant scrubs, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Zen’s surprised to see her here; he hadn’t expected to run into Nia today. He stops in his tracks, and Tasha glances between them, sensing an old connection. “Nia,” Zen says, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “What are you doing here?” Nia shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. “I could ask you the same thing. But I guess you’re not here for the same reason as everyone else—you’re probably trying to save the world one patient at a time.” Z
“Who’s this?” The voice over the phone demanded as Dr. Morris’ call went through Dr. Morris skipped the pleasantries. “I need you to do something for me,” he says, his tone low and commanding, accompanied by an evil smirk.There’s a brief pause before the voice on the other end responds, “What do you need?”Dr. Morris leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper as if the walls have ears. “I want you to have Patient 60 reassigned to the traditional medicine department. Immediately.”A longer pause follows. The unknown caller’s tone shifts, now cautious. “Why Patient 60? You know that case is a nightmare. It’s been a thorn in everyone’s side for weeks. Why transfer it now?”Dr. Morris’s lips curl into a malicious grin. “Because it’s perfect for what I have in mind. Let’s just say it’s a little test for our new intern, Tom.”The voice on the other end sounds skeptical. “Tom? You want to set him up with this case? That could go either way, Morris. What if he manages to handle it? It c
Zen’s eyes scanned Tasha’s face as she returned to the table, her usually calm demeanor replaced by a tense, anxious expression. He straightened up in his seat and asked, “Tasha, what’s wrong?”Tasha took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. “They’ve given us an impossible patient, I mean... Patient 60.” Her hands trembled as she spoke. “I’ve read the file; the case is a disaster. It’s been passed around from department to department, and no one has been able to make progress. I’m scared... really scared that something bad is going to happen, and I don’t even want to think about it.”Zen leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “Don’t worry, Tasha. Aren’t you in this profession for situations like this?” He smiled faintly as she shook her head.“This is different,” Tasha said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This patient... it’s like there’s no solution. And if we fail, it’ll be on us.”“The department that takes up the case and fails, takes the fall and responsib
Zen made his way to meet up with Sinclair. The moment he stepped in, Sinclair was already pouring over a drink, his brows furrowed in concentration. Without looking up, Sinclair asked, “You found something, didn’t you?”Zen walked over to the table, pulling out the patient’s file and setting it down with a thud. “I did. I was at Patel’s hospital and this patient’s been poisoned with slow-poison, and it’s no ordinary case of illness.”Sinclair finally looked up, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “Slow-Poison? That slow-poison?”“Yes, Something I haven’t seen in years. A slow-acting one that got confused for a neurological disorders. It’s nearly impossible to detect that it’s a poison unless you know what you’re looking for.”Sinclair leaned back, folding his arms. “That type of poison isn’t easy to come by, especially here. It’s not just something that shows up in a city by accident. Someone wanted this man dead.”Zen nodded, his face grim. “Exactly. But the question i
Zen wasn’t ready to back down so easily, he crept silently along the perimeter of the warehouse, the faint glow of lights from within serving as his guide. The back entrance wasn’t heavily guarded, just as Sinclair had said. He found a weak spot in the fence and slipped through, his movements were smooth. The cool night air brushed against his skin as he crouched near a cracked window, trying to get a sense of what was happening inside.Voices drifted through the open window, low but clear. Zen’s ears perked up as he pressed himself closer, careful to stay in the shadows.“I’m telling you,” a voice said, gruff and authoritative. “The Navy and Marines have been sniffing around, but we’ve been too slick for them. They’ve got nothing on us.”Zen’s brow furrowed. “Military involvement? What are these people up to?” He adjusted his position, making sure he could hear every word.Another voice chimed in, this one smoother, belonging to someone in control. “We’ve got the upper hand. The rich
Zen dragged the man in the suit a few feet away from the barrel, letting him collapse onto the ground, still gasping for air. He glanced down at the man, his expression unreadable.“You know, I could have killed you by now,” Zen said casually, dusting off his hands.The man in the suit smirked through the pain, wiping water from his eyes. “And yet, here I am. Breathing.”“Because I want information. I can drag this out for as long as it takes.” Zen crouched down next to him, his voice low. “Now, tell me more about this drug.”The man struggled to sit up, cradling his ribs as he spoke. “Tomorrow night. Dock -I won’t tell you. You won’t make it there in time anyway. We’ve got our eyes everywhere.”Zen tilted his head, studying him. “You’re very confident for someone who’s spent the last few minutes with their head in a barrel.”The man let out a short laugh, though it was laced with pain. “You don’t get it, do you? SP4 is not just some street-level drug. It’s a product the elite have be
Zen entered Sinclair’s office, the door closing behind him with a decisive click. Sinclair looked up from his desk, with concern in his eyes.“Chief, good timing. What did you find out?” Sinclair asked, gesturing for Zen to take a seat.Zen dropped into the chair across from Sinclair, leaning forward. “I had a nice chat with the guys in the warehouse, one in particular was entertaining.”Sinclair’s interest piqued. “Go on.”Zen began, “He called the poison, SP4, and confirmed SP4 isn’t just a street-level drug. It’s something the elite are heavily invested in. The Currens are behind it. Or at least, someone’s using their name.”Sinclair frowned. “He mentioned David Curren, not Daven?”“Yeah,” Zen confirmed. “I treated Daven Curren’s grandmother once. She was in rough shape, but I managed to help her. Daven never mentioned a brother named David.”“That’s strange,” Sinclair said, tapping his pen thoughtfully. “David might be an alias. If so, it could mean someone’s using the Curren name