Thirty-three days after the imperial ambassador’s murder.

Shay’s clinic, West Island, undersurface, Radaar, 8:37pm.

Sounds of gunfire echoed through the maze of streets all the way to Shay’s clinic. The distance muted them, but they were getting closer. Shay eyed the still open door. He’d struck a deal with Rising Sun to stay open until 10pm. He would provide treatment for their members free of charge, and they would provide protection. Some protection, he thought, listening to the ever-nearing shots.

Turning his back to the door, he strode over to the opposite wall and picked up his trench coat – a shabby, brown thing that stood a poor replacement for the pristine white of the RRD. He sighed. That life was behind him. The highborn had made their message clear: Shay would never set foot on the ground layer again.

It’s better this way. The kids who had been part of his team had been spared any blame. No retribution had been exacted. Connor would lead them well.

Another shot. Much closer this time. Shay pocketed the small pistol he kept for self-defence. The undersurface had treated him well the previous few weeks. People down here respected doctors. Probably because they get shot all the time. It served as a grim reminder that his life always stood at the tip of a needle now, waiting for… just about anyone to push it off.

The growl of an engine coming to a halt came from outside. Footsteps followed. Shay turned around just as two people entered his clinic. One: tall and muscular, and the very image of a veteran commander in the army. The man had an aura of danger that was almost palpable, a ferocious beast waiting to lunge at a single wrong move from Shay. The other: tall and lean, with a subdued force about him. Well, he was injured.

The bigger man – Beast, Shay decided to call him – slammed his fist on the door control panel, and the mechanism began to lower the shutters.

“What do you think you’re—” Shay began.

Beast pointed his gun at him. “You a doctor?” He pressed his ear against the metal door.

Shay raised his hands in the air. “I am.”

“Great.” Beast nodded his pistol towards his companion. “Then you can fix him. Name’s Raid. You?”

Shay frowned. Was there a point to being civil while pointing a gun at someone? Lowering his arms, he scanned the other man, studying the shoulder wound. It wasn’t bleeding profusely, so the artery hadn’t been damaged, but he still needed immediate treatment.

Beast – Raid – looked towards the shutter door for a moment. Likely their enemies were nearby. A chance. Shay glanced towards the pistol hidden in his coat. One person was distracted; the other couldn’t hold a weapon. Should he use this chance?

If they were with the enemy gang, Rising Sun might make problems for him for helping them. His fingers twitched. He’d never fired a gun. Looking up, Shay met the injured man’s gaze, a gaze he’d previously missed due to Raid’s aura, a gaze that reminded him of the highborn – no, not the highborn. These eyes held confidence, not arrogance. Shay gulped, his hand moving away from the pistol.

“I understand your situation, but if you’re using my clinic, at least keep whoever’s chasing you out. I don’t want trouble,” he said.

“Sure thing,” Raid said. “Never said your name though.”

“Shay.”

“Alright, Doc. Why don’t you go with Bale while I stand guard here? I get why you’d be worried – met plenty of your type before – but there’s no need. We pissed off the rival gang. Sun might even thank you for taking care of us.”

Shay nodded. Not like I can say much with you dangling that gun around. He beckoned Bale over, heading down a staircase to the basement of the building.

Despite the stressful situation, a small smile crept up on Shay’s face as they entered the operating room. Small, dim, a cheap technological imitation of his previous workplace, and probably nurturing mould in some hidden corner despite his best efforts; but it was his – his own clinic. He pointed towards the single surgical beach chair in the middle, illuminated by several lights.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He grabbed a pair of gloves and a mask. “Anything you can tell me about getting the wound?”

“Just a normal bullet.” Bale carefully took off his coat using only his right arm, the healthy one.

When he sat down, Shay slid over a robotic arm with a camera at its tip. He brought it close to the wound, then looked at the screen. The tech was outdated, but he had more than enough skill to compensate for just about anything. Almost anything. He blinked. The bullet was lodged inside the wound, sitting relatively close to the surface. This doesn’t make sense.

He pressed several buttons. One of the smaller mechanical arms at the head of the large one moved towards the wound. It gently prodded the flesh. There was a flicker of white-blue light. The mechanical arm jolted backwards.

Shay’s mouth opened slightly in shock. His gaze headed to Bale’s left palm. Empty. “Did you experience burnout recently?”

“How did you…?”

“I’ll assume you used the Gift in the last hour, too, right?” Shay asked.

Bale nodded.

“After the burnout event, your body entered a dangerous state. When you used more of the Gift without it first having recovered, the power suffused the cells in your arm.”

“I’m not so careless to not know the state of my own body. I thoroughly checked everything before even attempting to use the Gift.”

“But you checked things by calling on it, right?” Shay asked.

Bale said nothing, but that was answer enough.

“I’m not an adept, but I’ve had cases similar to yours. Just… not as extreme. From what I know, those that tested the connection always got false results.”

Raid came down into the room. “Doc, how’s he looking?”

“A lot worse than I thought.”

“The wound didn’t look that serious to me.” Raid crossed his arms, his forehead scrunched in worry. “Did the bullet shatter the bone?”

“No, the injury by itself is nothing serious. The bad thing is the reason why it’s not serious.” Shay turned back to Bale. “You’re extremely lucky the arm didn’t explode.”

“What are the options?” Bale asked.

The man deserved credit for being so calm. The several highborn Shay had treated in the past had almost entered shock because of the news.

“First, we remove the bullet. I’ll give you a general anaesthetic for—”

“No,” Bale said. “No anaesthetic. I can take it. I’ll be awake for this.”

“…afterwards we’ll need to reduce the amount of Gift-charge in your arm,” Shay said.

Bale nodded.

“I’d give you a nerve block if I could, but this place doesn’t have half the stuff I need. Try to stay as still as possible. This will hurt.”

Shay secured Bale’s forearm with a pair of pneumatic holders, then brought the robotic arm even closer to the wound. Inputting a command on his computer, several discs circled around the shoulder, taking scans. The screen on Shay’s left flickered to life and displayed the image of the joint. Minimal to no damage to the bone. He grimaced. Definitely worse than those highborn.

Shay took his scalpel to the wound and made an incision, enlarging it. Two of the smaller mechanical arms at the head of the larger one served as clamps, keeping it open. He began with debriding the wound of foreign substances. Using a pair of joysticks, he manoeuvred two other mechanical arms inside, their graspers taking hold of the bullet and extracting it.

Shay disinfected the wound again, rubbed a thick layer of jelly over it, then covered it all with a patch of synthetic skin. It would hold for a few days at least. “Still with us?”

Bale nodded, though he was panting at this point.

“I took the bullet out, but I suggest finding an adept specialised in healing. Not for the first few days though. Your body needs complete rest from the Gift.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Raid said.

“What’s left is to reduce the Gift-charge, and for that, it would be best to proceed with a transfusion. I need to take a sample to see which blood type—”

“No,” Bale said with renewed vigour. “No transfusions.”

Raid clicked his tongue. “This isn’t the time to be stubborn. Even if someone got a hold of your blood, not like you’d pop up in their search.”

“I said no.”

Raid’s face flushed in anger. “By the Ascendants! What’s with your type and not listening?”

The screen flickered. Shay flinched. Did it just get colder? He shook his head. “I can give you an infusion, instead. It’ll dilute your blood by a small percentage. It won’t be enough, but it’ll help. Then we’ll use the second approach: low-powered electric shocks.”

“You’re saying zapping him will actually produce results?” Raid asked.

“Not much, and not past a certain threshold, but it should be enough for his body to handle the rest.” Shay turned to Bale. “You’ll need to refrain from using the Gift for at least two weeks.”

“That’s too much,” Bale said.

Shay sighed, then raised his index finger. “One week. No less. Understood.”

“Fine.” Bale leaned his head back onto the chair.

“I’m not sure what you’re worried about, but I assure you, everything in this establishment is kept perfectly clean,” Shay said, setting up all the equipment. “I worked as a doctor in a high-end clinic before ending up here.”

“You got kicked out?” Raid asked. “Must be rough adjusting to the life here then.”

“Not for a lack of skill, and it’s been fine so far. Minor break-ins not counted,” Shay glanced at Raid. Unbelievable. How the man had the audacity to smirk, Shay didn’t know. “I was lucky.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Doc. To an extent that is. But I’ve never heard of this being done to someone.”

Inputting the parameters, Shay said, “You wouldn’t. Cases like this are extremely rare. I’ve only had three in my thirty years of working at a department specialised for adepts. Most die as soon as burnout occurs, or it doesn’t advance to this stage.”

“Thought you doctors document this stuff.”

“I submitted the report several times.” Shay shrugged. “Never got published. No clue as to why.”

The conversation came to a lull with that.

He moved another robotic arm so it hovered over Bale’s, a set of five half-rings on it, all of which held many needles. The needles prodded the skin one after the other, delivering low-powered electric shocks. A white-blue flicker pushed them away – consuming some of the Gift-charge. A bar on the screen filled to full, then the mechanism retracted the needles. The process repeated once the last one had finished.

Ten minutes later, Shay looked at the screen again; the resistance had dropped to half. “Not much longer.”

Bale’s head drooped. His arm began to shake.

“Doc?” Raid asked.

Shay re-checked the parameters he’d set. All were in their nominal values. “This shouldn’t be happening,” he said under his breath.

“Doc!”

A wave of lights passed through Bale’s arm, granting a silvery radiance to the veins and arteries, forming a fading network in its wake. Shay took half a step back. Oh, this is bad. The needles that had been prodding the skin disintegrated upon touching the light, and the pneumatic holders squealed as whatever power coursed through the arm forcibly loosened their grasp. Very bad. The glow intensified.

“W-watch out!” Shay shouted. He turned his body sideways and raised his arms to cover his face.

Light exploded from Bale’s arm in a silvery wave, hurling the equipment, Shay, and Raid against the wall. With a thud, Shay bounced off the wall, landed on a table, rolled off, and finally crumpled to the floor in a heap. He pushed himself up to his knees and looked his lab over.

It was in shambles. Most of the lights had burst. His tools lay scattered on the floor. The electronics spewed sparks, lighting up the room in flashes of blue and yellow. The robotic arms were nothing but scrap metal now. Half-melted.

Bale stared wide-eyed at his arm. The glow within had dimmed but was still there.

“Oh, you’re really screwed,” Shay said.