The doctor tucked the x-rays in her folder, along with the rest her diagnostics, when it became apparent that her patient had his mind elsewhere. She coughed, and her patient jolted, looking up from his cellphone. "Yes?" he asked in a tight voice, one that expected more beratement.
However, she did not scold him, even if her experienced eye told her this boy had suffered injuries like this before, had his bones broken in the same place twice or even three times. This was not an isolated incident, but one of many within a pattern.
"I was saying, given the severity of the fractures, it would take four to five months to heal."
He blinked, as if not completely comprehending.
"Until then," she continued, "I recommend you rest and avoid any… reckless actions."
He gave her an apologetic laugh that promised nothing of the sort. Shaking her head, she let him be discharged. He could not jump off the bed fast enough. He remembered something at the doorway.
"Thank you!" he said. And then he was gone.
Her next two patients were a cantankerous duo. One had the anatomy of his face rearranged after what she could only assume was a bar brawl, though he was very insistent that he was fine. The other was indeed perfectly fine, though he was very insistent that he was not. Both liked her, but not each other.
She liked neither. Because like the previous boy, they were deaf to her advice. Like the previous boy, they paid not with cash, but with a license that spoke plenty of their priorities and lifestyle choices.
She devoted her craft to the life and longevity of the people. Her work was wasted on those valued neither of those things, who walked day to day bearing a secret death wish.
After the duo left, the day had already extended too long. Inside her office, her assistant was closing the blinds, shading the room from the setting sun. He curiously held up a strip of dirtied fabric on her tool cart. It was black, the texture suspiciously similar to those of a cotton-weave shirt. Beside it were a set of branches snapped at careful, matching lengths.
"You can throw those out," she told him, fastening on her jacket.
Nodding, he went to retrieve a trash can. Meanwhile, she walked down the hospital halls.
Hunters were such mysteries, she thought. Their instinct for self preservation was abnormally low. Treating them was a waste of time and resources, to fix what would inevitably be broken again. She had no desire to help those who valued their lives so little.
And yet she did, because there existed others who valued them more than anything in the world. Who would gladly give up their own lives to keep them whole, to have them smiling just one more day. To fix them would be a waste, but to not would be an even bigger waste.
She had lied. An enhancer like him would make a full recovery in a month. Judging by his nervous energy, however, that was still far too long.