The Doctor's Reckoning

Chapter 4: A Chain of Consequences

“Someone call a doctor!” a nurse finally shouted, snapping everyone into action.

Joaquin stood at the edge of the chaos, his face impassive but his heart thrumming with satisfaction. 

He couldn’t explain what had just happened, but deep down, he felt the power within him stirring.

The chandelier had fallen perfectly, striking Andrew just as planned. 

It wasn’t a fatal blow—he had made sure of that.

But it was enough to knock the arrogance out of him, if only for a moment.

Andrew clutched his bleeding head, his cries of pain reverberating through the lobby. 

Mikyla knelt beside him, her hands fluttering uselessly as she tried to stem the blood with a piece of fabric torn from her coat.

“This... this is your doing!” 

Andrew spat, glaring up at Joaquin, his voice trembling with both rage and pain.

Joaquin tilted his head, his expression unreadable. 

“Me? I didn’t touch you. Maybe it’s divine retribution. Isn’t that what I warned you about?”

“You liar!” 

Andrew shouted, his words faltering as another wave of pain overtook him.

A nurse hurried forward with supplies, but her hands shook so badly that she dropped the glass bottle of alcohol she was carrying. 

It shattered on the floor, and some of the liquid splashed onto Andrew’s wounds. 

His scream was instant, raw, and guttural, silencing everyone in the lobby.

“Watch what you’re doing!” Mikyla snapped at the nurse, her tone sharp as a knife.

“I-I’m sorry!” the nurse stammered, her face pale with fear.

Andrew attempted to stand, leaning heavily on Mikyla as she tried to guide him toward the elevator. 

But as the doors slid open, they slammed shut just as quickly, nearly trapping Andrew’s hand in the process.

“What the hell is going on?” Mikyla shouted, her voice rising in panic.

Before anyone could answer, the lights flickered, and the entire hospital was plunged into darkness. 

Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd as the emergency lights slowly kicked in, casting an eerie glow over the scene.

“Great,” Andrew groaned, his voice laced with frustration. “Now the damn power’s out.”

Joaquin suppressed a smirk, his lips twitching as he turned away. 

The chaos was poetic, a carefully crafted sequence of events that he had set into motion with his newfound abilities. 

Each misfortune wasn’t an accident; it was calculated payback for Andrew.

Joaquin walked away from the hospital, and the tension in his chest began to ease. 

He felt a strange sense of liberation, as though shedding the weight of years of humiliation in a single day.

The night air was crisp as Joaquin made his way home, the distant hum of the city blending with the rustle of leaves. 

He passed by a lake, its surface reflecting the moonlight like shattered glass.

A sudden splash shattered the stillness, drawing his attention. His eyes darted to the water, where a small figure flailed helplessly.

A child!

Without hesitation, Joaquin dropped his bag and sprinted toward the lake. 

He dove into the icy water, the chill biting into his skin as he swam toward the boy. 

The child’s movements were frantic, his head bobbing in and out of the water.

“I’ve got you!” 

Joaquin murmured as he reached the boy, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him to shore.

The boy coughed and sputtered, his small body trembling as Joaquin gently laid him on the grass. 

Joaquin tilted the boy’s head, pressing on his chest to expel the water.

“Come on, kid,” Joaquin muttered under his breath. “Breathe.”

After a tense moment, the boy gasped, his eyes fluttering open.

A small crowd had gathered, their murmurs a mix of concern and relief.

“Is he okay?” someone asked.

“He’s breathing,” Joaquin replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

A man pushed through the crowd, his eyes wide with worry. 

He was older, his hair silver but his posture commanding. 

He dropped to his knees beside the boy, his hands trembling as he checked him over.

“Grandfather,” the boy whispered weakly, his voice hoarse.

“Thank you,” the elderly man said, his gaze lifting to meet Joaquin’s. “You saved my grandson’s life. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Joaquin said, brushing off the gratitude. “Just make sure he’s okay.”

The man’s expression softened into a smile, but there was something sharp behind his eyes, a glimmer of calculation. 

“You’re modest. But such bravery deserves recognition. I insist on rewarding you. Fifty thousand bucks.”

The offer caught Joaquin off guard, but he shook his head. 

“That won’t be necessary. I didn’t do it for money.”

The man studied him for a moment, his gaze lingering. 

“At least let me know your name.”

“Just call me Joaquin,” he replied, standing up and brushing the dirt from his clothes.

But for a second, Joaquin stared at the man.

He immediately noticed his hard breathing.

“Are you okay?”

“Why?”

Joaquin was silent, something was different from the old man. 

“Nothing.”

As the boy was taken away, Joaquin lingered for a moment, watching the crowd disperse. Something about the elderly man unsettled him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“Wait,” the man called out, stopping Joaquin in his tracks. “Are you certain there’s nothing I can do for you?”

Joaquin hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your grandson will be fine. That’s all that matters. But I think you should see a doctor.”

With that, he turned and walked away, the man’s gaze heavy on his back.

Hidden in the shadows, the elderly man’s demeanor shifted. The warm, grateful expression melted away, replaced by something colder, more calculating.

A middle-aged man stepped forward from the shadows, his stance rigid. “Why?”

“I have already talked with many doctors… even the famous ones. But no one, not a single one of them, managed to find out what disease I had. And this young man, he can see it in one glance.”

“Do you want me to find out?”

“Yes,” the elderly man said, his tone brooking no argument. “Something about him... He’s no ordinary man. I want to know everything about him—where he came from, what he’s capable of, and why he refused the money.”

The middle-aged man nodded. “Understood. I’ll have a report by morning.”