Medical Center. Emergency Room.
"Got it!"
Chief Resident Kelly hung up the phone, her face full of shock. She glanced at Adam, who was looking her way, and muttered, "Unbelievable."
Without wasting a second, she started notifying the surgical director and rallying every available pair of hands.
Adam, with his sharp hearing, caught the gist of the call. He knew exactly why she was so stunned.
It was a call from the Emergency Rescue Center.
Soon, four patients with identical injuries would be arriving. The medical center had to prep for urgent care.
And these four? Their injuries were a carbon copy of Owen Shaw's—the "Cement Boy" who'd been brought in earlier.
A brand-new Cement F4 crew, you could say.
The news hit the medical center like a thunderclap.
The surgical director gathered everyone, barking orders left and right. "Dr. Duncan, you're on the most critical patient first."
He stood with his hands on his hips. "Oh, and while we're waiting for them to arrive, give everyone a rundown of the key techniques and details for the rescue process. It'll help us out when the chaos hits."
"Got it," Adam nodded. He started sharing tips on how to save someone trapped in a pile of cement.
Everyone listened intently. This was uncharted territory for them.
First time dealing with something like this, they'd been totally thrown off. 😅 But now, with Adam dropping his hard-earned wisdom, they weren't about to miss a word.
They'd also heard George O'Malley's earlier chatter—funny and wild at the time. But now? Learning that the four cruel high schoolers who turned Owen Shaw into Cement Boy had ended up in the exact same mess they'd mocked? Chills ran down their spines.
George had passed along Owen's brother's words: take good care of Owen and try to keep those four kids alive. The tension was thick.
Thankfully, seeing Adam up front—calm, steady, and in control—gave them a bit of confidence.
And the proof was in the pudding: with Dr. Duncan around, the medical center's safety level was rock-solid.
Just as Adam was wrapping up his tips, four ambulances screeched into the bay.
"Adam, you've got the worst one," the surgical director said briskly. "Burke, you take the next worst. Green, the third. I'll handle the last. Everyone, stay sharp—we're saving all of them. If anything goes sideways, call Dr. Duncan for a consult ASAP. Understood?"
"Understood!" came the chorus from the four teams—20 or 30 people in total.
Thoracic surgeons were the MVPs for injuries like these.
Adam, seasoned and the best in the ER, led Carter and Lexie.
Dr. Burke, the thoracic surgery chief, took Cristina and her four interns.
Dr. Green, another thoracic surgeon, teamed up with Bailey—the top resident aside from Adam—and Dr. Sydney.
The surgical director paired with Meredith and her four interns.
Chief Resident Kelly, an ortho specialist, brought her bone docs to support all four teams with limb injuries.
Plastic surgeon Mark Sloan rolled in with his crew to handle burns.
Dr. Shepherd and the neurosurgeons were on standby for potential brain trauma.
Pretty much the entire surgical elite was mobilized. Even the psych department came down, ready to calm any mental breakdowns.
One minute you're laughing at someone else's misery, the next you're living it—those high schoolers weren't ready for this kind of brutal reality check. A meltdown was basically guaranteed. 😬
"Help me!!!!"
"Save me, please!!!"
"I don't wanna die!"
"Sobs!"
Four human-shaped cement blocks rolled in, and the exposed faces of those high schoolers wailed, screamed, and cried like mad. Even with mental prep, the staff gasped.
Talk about an eye for an eye!
This was way harsher than just killing them.
Forget whatever torture they endured before getting tossed into the cement vats. Ignore the terror of being thrown in.
They knew the danger—unlike Owen, who'd jumped in blind. That made it worse. They were more scared than he'd ever been.
Timing-wise? Owen's bald brother Deck left the hospital just over four hours ago.
That meant they'd probably been gawked at for an hour before being dug out of the cement.
Compared to their carefree mocking, Deck's cold, ruthless stare must've cranked their fear to eleven.
Four hours of agony, then a life-or-death roll of the dice.
Would they make it out? Luck would decide.
Death is scary. But struggling between life and death, unable to escape? That's pure nightmare fuel.
Ruthless.
Too ruthless! 😳
"Move!"
The surgical director snapped out of his shock and barked the order.
Adam, with Carter and Lexie, rushed the most critical kid—a boy—into the ER.
The other three teams grabbed their own cement-covered patients.
While the boys screamed and begged, Lola—the girl Owen had a crush on, who kinda liked him back—sobbed quietly. Her eyes screamed despair and regret.
If she'd known Owen had a brother this savage, she'd have steered clear of him—and kept him away from her.
If she'd had a heads-up, she'd never have let her friends egg things on, watching Owen solidify in that vat for an hour, ignoring his cries.
Too late now.
She didn't even hope to be saved. She'd seen Owen's injuries—those burns? For a girl who prided herself on her looks, it was a fate worse than death.
"No!!!"
Back in his room, Owen—awake now—was on the phone with his brother Deck. Hearing what Deck had done, he let out a gut-wrenching yell. "That's Lola… how dare you?!"
"Don't be a kid," Deck replied coolly over the line. "What's a girl like that good for?
"If you can't handle the revenge I dished out for you, feel free to come after me.
"But you'd better have the guts and the skills.
"So rest up, get strong, and head to the place where Heidi and I trained. Learn to fight.
"Then come find me, knock me down, step on my face, and say that line again. You won't need to yell—it'll carry the weight you want.
"Until then? Your words are just powerless tantrums."
Deck's tone shifted. "Anyway, I've said my piece to my dumb little brother. Now for the rest of you: don't mess with him. Take good care of him—or I'll come for you."
"Deck Shaw, you're way too full of yourself!" Kate, who'd just arrived, snatched the phone and snapped, "This is the U.S., not England!"
"Does it matter?" Deck said flatly. "This isn't something the NYPD can touch."
Kate froze.
She knew Deck was with some special UK unit. Guys like him? They didn't answer to regular cops.
Even if she busted her ass to nail him, the shadowy deals between the U.S. and UK would just set him free.
For people like him, the law was a punchline.
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