Ten hours later.
At the medical center.
A sleek BMW pulled up to the entrance. The door swung open, and out stepped a bald guy in sunglasses. He yanked off the shades, stuffed them in his pocket, gave the hospital a quick once-over, and strutted inside.
"I'm here for Owen Shaw," he said coolly at the nurse's station.
"He's in surgery right now," the nurse replied, glancing up at him. "Operating Room 3."
The "Cement Boy" nickname had already spread like wildfire through the hospital.
"Thanks." The bald guy nodded and headed toward the OR.
"Man, that accent is so cool. He's gotta be Cement Boy's brother, right?" one nurse whispered.
"Totally. Look at those fearless eyes—pure guy charisma! Shame about the bald head, though," another giggled.
"Bald's where it's at!"
"Huh?"
"You're too young to get it. Bald guys have their perks~"
"What perks?"
"They say they're obsessed with bedroom stuff—that's why they go bald!"
"Pfft! For real?!"
"Totally! I've got a friend who's into that type. She even has a theory: the best ones are the guys who are almost bald but not quite."
"You're making this up! I heard it's bookworms who obsess over that stuff."
"Same difference—bald bookworms!"
"Have you seen Dr. Duncan's dad?"
"…"
The nurses dove headfirst into gossip mode.
---
### Operating Room 3
Adam and the team had finally freed Owen from tons of cement. When they hauled off the last big slab, his circulation kicked into high gear, toxins flooded his system, and he flatlined instantly.
Luckily, Adam was ready for it. They brought him back and rushed him straight into surgery. After a grueling ten-plus hours, Owen was officially saved.
As Adam stepped out of the OR, he ran smack into the bald guy—and his eyes narrowed.
"Doc, how's he doing?" the guy asked, staring him down.
"And you are?" Adam asked back.
He knew this face. Was he a mechanic? A transporter? Something else?
"Owen's brother," Deck Shaw said flatly, then repeated, "How's he doing?"
"He's out of danger. You'll be able to see him soon," Adam explained briefly.
Bald Deck nodded, staying silent.
"O'Malley, take Mr. Shaw to the ward," Adam said, pointing at George.
Sure, he'd loved this guy's movies in his past life, but real talk? This dude was a walking gray area—hero one minute, villain the next. In films, that chaotic vibe was cool. In real life? Better to treat him like a bad guy and play it safe. Adam had zero interest in getting tangled up in this guy's off-screen dark side.
---
### Ward Room
"People say if you wanna peek at the future, look at the past. I used to think that was bullshit," Deck said, standing by the glass window, gazing out at the skyscrapers and bustling traffic. He sighed, turned, and walked to Owen's bedside, staring at his still-unconscious brother. "Now I get it. The past doesn't let go.
My stupid little brother!
When we were kids, you always picked fights with the toughest punks. And who had to step in and clean up the mess? Me, every damn time. You'd swipe stuff from the corner store, and who'd take the beating from Dad? Me again.
Then you grew up, went to school, and actually got your act together. Top student, huh? I knew being the middle kid sucked for you—no spotlight, always jealous of how tight me and Hattie were. But that wasn't our fault.
When we were messing with Keith Moon-level chaos—y'know, the kind that could blow out your eardrums for good—you didn't wanna play. Called us nuts. Me and Hattie went off to military school, mastering pro-level violence, and you figured you'd never match us in that game.
So you ditched the childish, scaredy-cat brawling and became a good student, racing us on a different track.
We got it. Hell, we cheered you on inside! Master anything—doesn't matter what—and it's a badass win.
We thought you'd get smarter, tougher, better. But never in a million years did I think you'd end up like this!
Jumping into a cement vat for a girl? To prove you've got guts because some idiots egged you on? The old you would've punched their lights out or kicked them into the cement.
That version of you couldn't beat me or Hattie in the violence department, sure—but at least he wasn't a total moron. And he wouldn't have almost robbed me of the chance to bail you out one last time.
What would I even tell Mom?
Die if you want, but not like this. You're trashing our family name, breaking Mom's proud heart—and that's where I draw the line!
Your days of picking your own path are over. A weakling like you needs some hardcore toughening up.
When you wake up, I'll set it up. We don't need you to be a superstar—just don't die a damn joke!"
Deck grabbed Owen's hand, his gaze cold but fierce. "Still, you're my little brother. Your mess is my mess. Rest up—I'll keep teaching you how to be a man."
George O'Malley, standing nearby, went pale as a ghost. Even he could tell this bald dude was a violence machine not to be messed with.
"Take good care of my brother," Deck said, standing up and glancing at George. "If anything goes wrong, I'll be back to settle it."
"Y-Yes, sir!" George stammered.
"That Dr. Duncan guy—he's good?" Deck pulled his sunglasses from his pocket, wiping them with a cloth as he asked.
"Uh, yeah," George mumbled, keeping it short.
"Tell him to stick around tonight," Deck said, sliding the shades on with a icy glare. "Four patients are coming in later. I want him ready to save them—and he'd better not lose a single one!"
He didn't wait for a reply—just strode out of the room.
Once Deck was gone, George's legs nearly gave out. He stumbled to the wall, then told a nurse to page Adam.
When Adam showed up, George spilled everything.
"Damn it!" Adam cursed under his breath.
Yep, classic gray-area character. To anyone living in the real world, this guy was straight-up bad news. What kind of "hero" threatens the people saving his brother?
"O'Malley, you're off duty here," Adam said, seeing George's nerves shot. "Call Melendez to watch Owen instead."
"I'll stay with him," George said, face scrunched in worry. "His brother told me to do it. If he comes back and I'm not here, he might hunt me down…"
"Fine," Adam nodded, patting his shoulder. "Just do your job like normal. If anything goes wrong, I'll deal with his brother. He won't blame you—relax."
"Okay… Wait, Dr. Duncan, where are you going?" George asked, relief fading as Adam started walking off.
"To the ER," Adam sighed. "Those four cruel high schoolers are about to find out what real cruelty looks like."
---
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