Dr. Conrad Hawkins briskly walked through the busy corridors of Chastain Park Memorial Hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic mixing with the faint aroma of coffee from a nearby cart. His mind wandered to his upcoming date – a rare break from his chaotic schedule as a senior resident. The electronic hum of medical equipment surrounded him as he checked his watch, already calculating how much time he might have before his pager inevitably interrupted his evening.

The sharp, urgent beep of his pager cut through his thoughts, instantly redirecting his steps toward the Emergency Room. The familiar sounds of chatter and the rhythmic beeping of monitors grew louder as he approached. His eyes quickly scanned the room until they landed on a gurney – and his breath caught in his throat.

There, lying pale beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, was the person he was supposed to meet later that evening. Their clothing was stained with blood from a brutal abdominal wound, their face contorted in pain. The anticipation he'd felt moments earlier evaporated, replaced by the cold focus that had served him so well in both the military and medicine. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him as he swiftly moved to assess the situation, his mind switching gears from personal anticipation to professional action.