BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

Slap!

A pale hand shot out from under a dull blue jacket and made contact with a nearby table, slapping it, before retreating under the warm material. After a few more moments, the occupant of the furniture realized that the noise hadn't stopped.

"Fuck!" The man shouted and launched off the couch, grabbing the device and silencing it after realizing it wasn't his alarm clock. He rushed out of the lounge room while looking at the pager. The city was going through a rough time and it was hour 56 of a 48 hour shift and he had been trying to grab an hour or two of rest before his next operation.

He'd been asleep for perhaps fifteen minutes when he got the call for his next surgery.

'I know I'm the only person that can reliably pull off a 48-hour shift, but this is pushing it.' He thought to himself as he scrubbed in.

He had just entered the operating theater when suddenly, his vision blurred and his body's aches came into sharper focus, particularly along the left side. He stumbled a little, but shook off the fatigue and pain and continued on, taking his place besides the patient.

"What've we got this time?" He asked, looking the patient over and examining the bloody patch of tissue over his abdomen.
"Pretty standard, bullet wound in the abdomen, it's still in there. Little internal damage, no major ruptures." The nurse told him, handing over a marker and holding a scalpel in her other hand. The surgeon scoffed.
"Easy. I'll have him patched up in twenty minutes." He made a light joke while nodding and set to work extracting the bullet and repairing the minimal damage to the man's internals. It was a standard operation. Normal, even. So common that he could've done it with his eyes closed. He'd patched up more gang-members and idiots and victims of a mugging gone wrong- from both sides- more times than he could remember. By the end, blood covered his hands and there would be a pretty new scar in the patient to remind him of what not to do. What that was, wasn't his problem.

He left the theater and began scrubbing out- ready to get back to sleep- when once again, his vision blurred. But it was worse this time. He once again put it off to fatigue and finished scrubbing out, intent on his rest.

He left the room in his scrubs, fiercely fighting off the exhaustion, and nodded to a fellow surgeon who rushed off to attend to some important matter.

'Amen, brother. But I'm done.' He thought and stumbled off to the lounge. He was halfway there when he realized something was off. His left arm- which had been aching with fatigue earlier- was now numb.

"Oh, shit." He cursed and rushed to find another doctor, checking his heart rate and finding it abnormal.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck!' He thought and froze as his left leg gave out, forcing him to the floor. He looked around and tried to find another doctor to call for help, but the hall way was deserted- which made no sense at this hour. He grit his teeth and tried to crawl for help, but his vision quickly grew dark.

'Damnit...' He thought, giving in.

Doctor Gale South was pronounced dead from cardiac arrest on Wednesday, February 8, 2019.

Slowly, the heaviness that accompanied death cleared from his eyes and stopped clamping his eyelids shut. They opened and were blinded by the bright light of the world before he flinched away from it, but was unable to close his eyes. He shuddered and experienced muscle contractions for a moment, before his vision cleared and his ears started sending signals to his brain.

"-gumo? Nagumo? Are you okay?" There was a girl standing in front of him, waving a hand and trying to get his attention.

"I-I'm sorry?" He asked, shaking his head and trying to clear it.
"I asked you if you were okay? Nagumo, you aren't usually like this." He nodded and spoke.
"Y-yeah, just a little- a little off-balanced." He told her, hoping it was applicable to the situation. Apparently it was, as the girl chuckled a little nervously.
"Guess that makes sense. I mean, this whole situation is a little crazy isn't it? I'm not entirely sure I believe it." He joined in on her nervous laugh.
"M-me neither." He told her, and she nodded, turning to the old, white-bearded man that was speaking.

'Oh sweet baby Jesus cycling his way to mass on a Friday, what the fuck is going on?!'

So we've got another new story from me. Don't know how popular it's going to be, but I love the Arifureta novels for some reason, so I'm going to run with it. Hope you guys reading this enjoy and look forward to more.

The rating is currently T, but I'll bump it up to M if enough people want things like smut or more descriptive gore. Or I could just put the smut into a side story... Something to think about.

Stay sane y'all.

~MindsandMirrors