Chapter 5: Another superhero? It's not that long-winded, okay then...

In principle, once an ER doctor is off duty, they're truly off duty; virtually no one will ask them to return to work, and they don't need to have much contact with patients. Unfortunately, this is Broodhaven, and in this sinful city, there are always exceptions.

When Allen appeared in the emergency room with his tie haphazardly pulled around his neck and his shirt askew, it was already as chaotic as a market.

A man dressed in a bodysuit and wearing a domino mask stood out from the crowd. He stood straight in the corner, arms crossed, staring warily at the patients lying on the hospital beds groaning incessantly.

These are all criminals.

Allen's brow twitched, and the moment he saw the bodysuit, he reflexively showed a look of disgust.

Another superhero, a weirdo in a tight suit, and a seemingly rambling violent maniac—in short, someone who's incompatible with his nature.

He had already met many of them in New York and even dealt with two of them frequently.

He knew there was another one in Metropolis, who was Lex's 'crush'. He also heard that there was a nest of them in neighboring Gotham, which could reproduce continuously every year and be shipped all over the world like express delivery, which was terrifying.

In conclusion, Brudhaven is still the better choice.

He had only seen this one black and blue one in all this time.

Allen walked past Dick without looking to either side, as if Nightwing's special ability was invisibility.

“Dr. Osborn, thank you for coming! There’s a patient waiting for you in treatment room number 3, don’t worry, just treat him casually—okay, don’t look at me like that, and don’t tell Ms. Goodman I said that.” The nurse gratefully grabbed Allen’s arm. “I’m sorry, we’re really short-staffed today. Some of the bastards have already been transferred to West Charity Hospital, but…”

"Blue alert! Blue alert!"

A piercing alarm blared, and the emergency room's loudspeaker called out the corresponding doctor's employee number. The nurse hurriedly left, leaving Allen and Nightwing staring at each other in bewilderment.

"I'm going to kill you all!" a man with a gruff voice and several scars on his face yelled. "Help me stop the bleeding, you fucking bastard—"

The world suddenly fell silent.

Allen turned around and saw that it was the strange man in the tight-fitting clothes who had hit the guy hard on the head with the stick in his hand.

The doctor's affection level towards the man in the tight-fitting suit increased by 0.1, and is now -99.9.

For the first time, the emergency department of Pulau Port Hospital was overcrowded. Among the patients, criminals with miserable faces and police officers with unfortunate looks were clearly separated, with a strange man in a tight-fitting bodysuit and sharp eyes as the dividing line.

Allen didn't even bother to look at the superhero in the bodysuit. He unconsciously glanced at the buttocks of each patient, and when he realized that no one he knew was present, he didn't even realize that he had breathed a sigh of relief.

This is good news, otherwise he wouldn't have any cereal for tomorrow morning.

Dr. Osborn vehemently denied that the absence of Dick's bed had subtly boosted his mood. He was now slightly more tolerant of the noisy scene.

A Google paramedic, also called in urgently, followed closely behind Allen, explaining the situation—the police had raided a small gang stronghold, but something went wrong. The criminals detonated a bomb, causing a terrible terrorist attack, which resulted in the emergency rooms of every nearby hospital being packed to capacity that night.

To make matters worse, Brudhaven Hospital was also attacked tonight.

Three men armed with guns stormed into the intensive care unit, attempting to murder Eric Hossen, who was about to be discharged. Security guards and two emergency room doctors were also shot while trying to stop them, including Allen's mentor, Andy Miller.

The armed criminals were caught red-handed by Nightwing, and after a struggle, Nightwing and the limping Eric arrested all three.

Allen gritted his teeth as he listened.

He felt that anyone who dared to harm the patients he had saved was a challenge to his dignity.

He didn't care about Eric, but his patient couldn't die under his nose; he had promised his mother he would try to save lives, not kill them. If Eric died, wouldn't his previous attempt to save him have been in vain?

Fortunately, old Eric is still sharp as ever, and the three criminals are now handcuffed in the police station basement awaiting interrogation.

However, before Nightwing and Eric could even breathe a sigh of relief, they heard that the officers who responded to the call that night had encountered a bombing.

Immediately following was the full deployment of 911, BPD, fire department, and emergency room personnel.

Everything happened too fast. When Dick rushed from the hospital to the scene, he only had time to grab a few henchmen who couldn't escape the explosion and ended up getting themselves killed.

He and the police took the seriously injured patient to the nearest emergency room in Brodhaven, and then stayed there.

Something was wrong; he needed to get more information from the few gang members who had miraculously survived the explosion.

He suspected there was a deeper conspiracy at play.

Why would gang members blow up their own base? This time, they didn't even spare their own gang members.

The three guys who came to murder Eric were far too brazen. They just walked right in through the emergency room entrance and started shooting at everyone, as if they wanted to be noticed. They could have done it much more discreetly.

Eric Hossen, now leaning on a cane and panting, stood next to Dick, his fierce expression making it hard to tell whether he was a gang member or a police officer.

He stood at the door of emergency room number 3, and somewhat nervously greeted Allen: "Good evening, doctor!"

Allen recognized him by his hospital gown and the wristband on his wrist.

The doctor clicked his tongue at his limp and chest wound: "Your hospital stay will be extended by at least a week. I'll tell the nurses that fried chicken and cola are no longer allowed in your room. Also, if you dare to die in the ER, I swear you'll regret it."

Eric: "..."

Nightwing gave Allen his first smile of the night: "And I'll pass on the doctor's orders to the people at the Brudhaven Police Department to make sure no lousy fried chicken shows up until he's healed. Dr. Osborn, you can contact me anytime if needed to confiscate the fried chicken."

"...Nobody at the police station will listen to you," Eric retorted with a booming voice, "except for that rookie Grayson. So what kind of pep talk did you give Grayson to make him your lackey? Let me tell you, stay away from the people in our department!"

Upon hearing a familiar name, Allen turned to Nightwing: "...Grayson?"

Dick turned his head away, pretending not to see.

Allen directed the nurses to push the bandaged patient out to the observation room, and finally remembered to take a proper look at the strange man in the tight-fitting clothes.

After just one glance, Allen immediately looked away with even greater disdain.

With the same taste as the devilish horned man and Spider-Man, he refused to look at them a second time.

From what Eric just said, it seems this guy knows his neighbor.

He just wanted these weirdos to stay away from him and his neighbors.

The chainsaw officer is the cereal housekeeper he plans to hire in the future, and he doesn't want the housekeeper's life to be disturbed by superheroes.

His plan was to get what he wanted in Brudhaven, then immediately return to New York to take Norman Osborn's fortune and bring Dick with him to make cereal for him.

...Best of all, by then Norman Osborn's property would have become an inheritance.

Dick was unaware that the doctor had already prepared a new, high-paying job for him, without even asking for his consent.

He saw the doctor raise his chin at him with disdain: "Mind your own business."

Dick automatically interpreted the stubborn Dr. Osborn as worried about Nightwing's safety—which was equivalent to caring about Officer Grayson—so he cheerfully replied, "Okay, thank you, Doctor." Officer Grayson appreciated Dr. Osborn's concern for Officer Grayson.

So tomorrow morning I can fry a heart-shaped egg for the doctor, add two lettuce leaves, toast the bread a little crispier, and iron the doctor's shirt while I'm at it. I definitely need to take the clothes out of the washing machine and hang them out to dry.

Allen snorted again and waved to signal the annoying superhero to move away and not get in his way of saving people.

Another hospital bed rolled past Nightwing, and Nightwing's main focus for the night was finally pushed into the examination room, where he began to yell at Allen in a very rude manner.

Allen was about to cut open his trouser leg with the scissors in his hand.

“Watch out for my leg, doctor.” Even with many police officers present, he remained arrogant. “If you can’t heal me… I guess you wouldn’t want to know how your mother would feel at your funeral.”

Dick gave him a wary look, raising his calico stick threateningly: "I bet you've fallen in love with my stick. Are you planning on getting another beating? I'd be happy to oblige."

The criminal smirked and forced a smile.

He was about to say something sarcastic when he suddenly saw the undisguised coldness in Dr. Osborne's eyes.

He instinctively shivered, puzzled by the sudden chill. Yet, instinctively, he dared not resist.

...it was as if saying a few more words would have even more serious consequences.

Allen paused for a moment.

His fingertips touched the volatile poison tucked in his inner pocket, and his gaze fell on the gleaming scalpel.

Alan glanced into the lobby and saw a victim's family member glaring angrily in his direction. He knew that if someone were to whisper something in his ear right now, he would probably storm in and cause a scene, resulting in some minor problem for the idiot in the emergency room.

The man in the hospital bed kept complaining of chest and abdominal pain. Although he was conscious, answered normally, had stable vital signs, and symmetrical breath sounds, Allen could determine that he had a minor left lung contusion and simple splenic rupture. A laparoscopic splenectomy could resolve this minor issue.

—But he can move a little slower during the surgery.

If a small tear is created in the small intestine about 120 millimeters from the ligament of Treitz, there is a high probability that the person will develop a bloodstream infection on the second day, which could lead to severe septic shock.

The hospital's pathology department has recently received many interesting samples that are highly contagious and have a very high infection rate. He knows the shift change schedule of the hospital security guards, so getting some interesting samples is a piece of cake.

Or perhaps a few words of provocation to the injured Andy Miller might tempt Dr. Miller to strike first.

Dick looked at Dr. Osborn with some concern; his intuition told him that the doctor was in a very bad mood. Probably a hundred times worse than the week Osborn spent learning to cook oatmeal.

"My dear Allen, don't hurt anyone. Just enjoy this world," Emily said with a smile in Allen's mind.

“You’ve been raised by your mother into a cowardly piece of trash that goes against your nature.” That was old Osborn’s cold voice. “Humans are born unequal, and you don’t need those pointless rules.”

The doctor glanced coldly at the patient's dark circles under his eyes, pale skin, needle marks on his arm, and arrogant expression, then silently changed the angle of the scissors in his hand.

"Ouch—you son of a bitch—"

Allen pushed up his glasses, a cold smile playing on his lips: "I'm an intern, so be prepared."

"Fuck—Change the player!! Get the fuck out of here!!"

Allen's answer was to tighten the tourniquet, and incidentally, he "accidentally" forgot to administer anesthesia before cleaning the wound.

If Emily's words hadn't still lingered in his mind, he would have had a hundred ways to make this rude guy die quietly.

Dr. Miller, with an injured arm in a sling, stood beside Allen and gently reminded him, "Don't bring your emotions into your work; you're a doctor."

Although everyone present wished the criminals sent there would die immediately—for the police officers who died in the explosion and the innocent civilians affected.

But they cannot show it, and we must do everything we can to save them.

Allen casually tugged at the sutures in his hand, wondering whether he should send the nurse away and secretly replace them with another type.

Upon hearing this, he looked up at Andy Miller: "I'm not emotional. I just hate people who are rude to me."

Dr. Miller patted Allen on the shoulder with his uninjured hand understandingly: "Good news, you can fully utilize your 'superb' suturing skills today. I promise I won't scold you for not stitching well."

Allen looked at Andy's injured arm: "I thought you'd be angry. He injured your arm; if the bullet had been a little off, you might never have been able to go to the operating table again."

Andy winked playfully at Allen: "But God bless me! I only need to rest for two weeks."

Allen frowned at him: "I thought that protecting oneself and nipping danger in the bud was human nature?"

“My nature is optimistic, peaceful, and has faith in God.” Andy always watched Allen’s skillful suturing with a smile in his eyes, a hint of satisfaction on his face. “Besides, I have sworn an oath to Apollo, Asclepius, and all the gods of heaven and earth.”

Allen couldn't understand or empathize with it.

He thought Andy would at least punch the guy.

Andy and Allen walked out of the ward, only to be rushed into the adjacent treatment room number 2 by a nurse who was passing by.

Inside lay an unconscious police officer from Brudhaven.

Eddie glanced at the monitor attached to his body; his heartbeat had temporarily stabilized.

Dick pursed his lips, looking at his colleague whom he had just seen today, now lying there so weakly, possibly to be rushed back into the emergency room at any moment.

Damn criminal.

He composed himself and patted Allen on the shoulder: "Thank you for your hard work today, Doctor. And Dr. Miller, I hope your arm gets better soon. I'll be there on time if needed."

He guessed that Alan must be feeling sad about his teacher's injury, just as he would be furious with the killer because of a colleague's hospitalization. While the doctor rested, he wanted to give him a hug; perhaps that would make him feel better.

Allen looked calmly at the policeman who had fallen asleep on the hospital bed, then glanced at the criminal next door, his heart completely unmoved.

Suddenly, his gaze stopped.

On the neck of the unconscious policeman, hidden by his disheveled hair, was a barely noticeable tattoo. Three inverted helices were tightly intertwined, forming a star-like arrangement with a strange eye in the center.

He seemed to have just seen this symbol before.

Allen looked at the police badge on the man's body, and a cryptic smile suddenly appeared on his lips.