Chapter 24: Field Work, The Silencer
Cameron frowned, studying David's peculiar expression:
"What? Am I wrong?"
David, snapping back to reality, smiled:
"I think it's a natural response when there's genuine emotional connection. You'd understand if you fell for someone."
Cameron hesitated, but finally said:
"You did good work today. You can clock out now."
Watching Cameron walk away, David shook his head without saying more.
He remembered that Cameron's arc eventually led to marriage and children.
So this hang-up would resolve itself eventually.
His deteriorating body couldn't handle intimacy anyway—why stress about it?
Instead of worrying about others, he should focus on how to save more lives.
Otherwise, saving one person per day, he couldn't afford to skip even one out of 365 days. Missing even one would mean his "subscription" getting canceled for non-payment.
Just as David was contemplating his mortality, his pocket buzzed.
It was the burner phone provided by the Continental.
David pulled it out and glanced at the screen—an emergency medical dispatch from Charon.
Emergency medical dispatch meant an assassin who couldn't make it back to the Continental and needed on-site medical assistance.
The message would first be sent to the physician closest to the assassin's location.
If refused, it would route to the next available doctor.
However, generally speaking, no one refused these sudden field assignments.
Because if they successfully treated the patient, the fee would be doubled.
For many physicians in the organization, gold coins were the entire motivation.
But David wasn't chasing coins—he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to save a life.
After swinging by the ER to grab some trauma supplies, David rushed to the scene following the GPS coordinates.
By the time he arrived, the location was already surrounded by rubberneckers, pointing and gesturing toward the center of the crowd.
Their commentary was peppered with phrases like "Oh my God," "That's insane," and so on.
It seemed the assassin was in critical condition.
After forcefully shouldering through layers of gawkers, David finally glimpsed the situation.
A man lay on his side on the pavement, a pool of blood beneath him and glass shards scattered around, his status unclear.
David looked up and saw a second-story window across the street was completely shattered.
This guy must have crashed through the glass and jumped from the second floor.
Several well-meaning civilians were already beside him attempting emergency CPR.
But their technique looked amateurish at best—they'd probably only taken a basic first-aid course at the YMCA or something.
Moreover, the critical priority right now was hemorrhage control, not CPR.
Seeing them about to administer the wrong intervention, David quickly stepped forward and identified himself:
"Stop, stop—you're making it worse!
I'm a physician. Let me handle this. I'll do everything I can to save him."
Hearing David's words, the man about to start chest compressions looked up with annoyance:
"I'm trying to save him too! Can't you see he's dying?
This isn't the time for games, kid!
If you want internet fame, pick a different event! Don't come here clout-chasing!"
The man deliberately emphasized "kid" to demonstrate his distrust of David.
David reluctantly extracted his Princeton-Plainsboro intern ID to verify his credentials.
After glancing at it, the man still said skeptically:
"You're just an intern. Can you actually do this? Do you have any field experience?"
Realizing that continuing this conversation would require David to verify his entire genealogy, he simply crouched down and began unpacking his trauma kit.
He didn't want to waste more time on this bullshit.
Seeing David open the kit on his own authority, the man immediately panicked:
"Wait, hold on—stop until I've confirmed you actually have the skills!"
David impatiently shoved the man aside:
"If you want to help him, shut up and let me work."
Then, with complete focus, he grabbed medical gauze and applied direct pressure to the assassin's jugular vein, which was hemorrhaging from a glass laceration.
He used pressure point compression to rapidly control the bleeding.
This immediately silenced the man who'd fallen on his ass from being pushed.
Actions spoke louder than words—David's intervention was textbook correct.
The man hadn't even noticed the jugular bleed. If he'd only performed CPR, it would've only accelerated exsanguination.
In other words, his actions moments ago had indeed been harming the victim!
Feeling humiliated, the man quietly melted back into the crowd and disappeared.
David didn't have attention to spare for spectators. While controlling the hemorrhage, David's eyes rapidly scanned the assassin's exposed skin.
He felt like he'd seen a similar presentation in some medical show.
When he noticed venous distension in the assassin's arm, recognition flashed through David's mind.
The Good Doctor!
Venous distension is caused by increased intrathoracic pressure.
Palpating the chest wall again confirmed paradoxical movement.
This was tension pneumothorax from blunt trauma! A rare and lethal emergency!
The key to successful resuscitation was correcting the underlying pathology!
In simple terms: the lung had ruptured, causing air to accumulate in the surrounding pleural space and preventing it from returning to the lung for gas exchange.
Therefore, the first-aid intervention was immediate decompression.
Amid gasps from the crowd, David used a scalpel to make an incision at the second intercostal space along the midclavicular line, then inserted a large-bore needle directly into the pleural cavity.
With the appearance of a hissing sound, the assassin on the ground finally began breathing normally, and the venous abnormalities gradually resolved.
Witnessing this, the onlookers recording on their phones all began praising David's actions.
"Holy shit, he actually saved him—that was incredible!"
"Who just said the intern couldn't handle it? He clearly could!"
"Which hospital did you say you're from? Can I request you next time I need a doctor?"
Facing the crowd's generous praise, David just smiled politely:
"Everyone, please hold on. The emergency intervention isn't completely finished, and the patient isn't entirely out of danger yet.
Please don't crowd in, okay? Give the patient adequate space."
After persuading the people wanting to get his contact information to back off, David lowered his head and continued the procedure.
At the needle insertion site, he cut a 1cm opening in the fingertip of a latex glove and secured it over the needle.
Using it as a one-way valve—allowing gas inside the chest cavity to escape while preventing atmospheric air from entering—the emergency procedure was finally complete.
The male assassin's life was saved.
Because David had already received the life extension notification.
[Successfully saved a life. Lifespan extended by one day. Current lifespan: 6 days, 17 hours.]
The next phase was just gradual recovery while waiting for the pulmonary laceration to seal.
Soon, a vehicle disguised as an ambulance arrived on scene and loaded the assassin onto a stretcher.
David suddenly noticed that a tattoo was visible through the thin nitrile glove on the back of one paramedic's hand.
It was a crimson hand dripping blood.
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