Chapter 4: Mary Mason
Outside the Rayne Clinic, raindrops slid down the metal edge of the sign, reflecting a dim, yellowish glow.
Ethan Rayne had just seen off his last patient and was cleaning up the medical instruments on the counter.
The light was low, and the air carried the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol. He automatically peeled off his latex gloves, planning to shut off the lights and head home.
Suddenly, a rush of footsteps echoed from outside—
"Bang! Bang bang bang!"
"Open up!" The pounding and shouting were as urgent as bill collectors, without a shred of courtesy.
Ethan's hands stilled, his brow furrowing slightly.
He slowly turned toward the door, his fingers instinctively beginning to gather energy.
The air shimmered faintly, and a subtle layer of shadow writhed in his palm—Shadow Word: Pain manifesting at his fingertips.
"Trouble?"
He thought quietly, his expression calm. "No big deal."
Then he hesitated.
There were quite a few people out there—at least five or six. That many people vanishing at once would raise too many questions.
The shadow slowly dissipated from his hand, and he walked forward to unlock the door.
The door burst open with a bang, and a rush of damp, cold air and the metallic smell of blood flooded in.
Several men shoved their way inside, carrying someone between them, their clothes soaked and covered in crimson.
"Doc! You gotta save him!"
The leader was a rough-looking guy—Billy Barker. Ethan had heard the name around the neighborhood.
"Gunshot wound." Ethan's eyes swept over the injury quickly. "He's lost a lot of blood. You need to take him to an ER."
"Hospitals won't touch us, and if they do, they'll call the cops!" Billy's voice was tight with barely controlled rage. "He's gonna die right here if you don't help. You gonna save him or not?"
Ethan didn't move, just stared at them coldly. "I'm not obligated to get involved in gang business."
The air went still for several seconds. A few of the thugs instinctively reached for the guns tucked in their waistbands.
Ethan's fingers twitched—the shadow energy stirred again, responding to his will like an old companion.
Then someone stepped out from behind the group of men. She wore a black trench coat, her hair soaked with rain, and her eye makeup was slightly smudged—but that didn't stop Ethan from seeing she was a striking young woman.
She ignored the gangsters entirely and walked straight toward Ethan.
"I'm Mary Mason, surgical student at UCLA Medical School."
Her voice was crisp and direct. "I need a surgical light, hemostats, and a sterile surface."
Ethan blinked in surprise.
The name flashed through his mind immediately—Mary Mason.
American Mary, the med student who, after being assaulted by her professor, descended into the underground world as a body modification surgeon specializing in extreme procedures.
That film had left a lasting impression on him.
"You're going to operate here?" Ethan hesitated, uncertain whether this girl was pre-trauma or post-.
"He's got a bullet lodged in his chest. If we wait another five minutes, he'll go into cardiac arrest." Mary's tone was steady, her eyes clear and unflinching.
Ethan was silent for a few seconds. The shadow beneath his palm completely dissolved.
"Operating table's over there. Alcohol and sutures are on the left by the sink."
Mary nodded, immediately shrugging off her trench coat to reveal the black outfit she'd worn for her club interview.
"I'll take lead. You assist."
Ethan couldn't help giving her a quick once-over. "Alright."
The surgical light snapped on, its beam illuminating both their faces in harsh white.
At the operating table, Mary transformed. She pulled on gloves and examined the ragged wound torn open by the bullet.
She took a breath. "Hemostat."
Ethan handed over the instrument, noticing the slight tremor in her fingers.
Mary didn't look up. Her movements became clean and efficient.
She first wiped away the surrounding blood with gauze, exposing the inside of the wound—a radial tear, flesh and tissue turned outward like a grotesque flower.
"Bullet's lodged near the ribs, right side," she murmured, assessing the damage.
"Breathing's shallow. Heart rate's unstable." Ethan placed his hand on the patient's carotid artery. "I'll help you apply pressure."
Mary gave a curt nod.
The scalpel pressed down, cutting through skin and muscle, meeting warm, yielding resistance.
Blood welled up instantly. She pressed down on the artery with one hand while using forceps with the other to probe the wound.
"Stay calm," Ethan said quietly.
"I am calm." Mary's breathing remained even, though sweat beaded on her temples.
With a gentle probe, the forceps touched something hard and metallic.
"Got it."
The bullet was wedged behind the rib cage, wrapped tightly in blood and tissue.
Mary adjusted her angle, the scalpel carefully peeling away the adhering flesh.
Bright red liquid streamed down the incision.
"Angle it left a bit more." Ethan wiped blood from her hand with gauze. "Respiration's dropping."
"I know." Her voice was low, concentrated.
The forceps gave a delicate twist—and in that instant, the faint scraping of metal against bone sent a shiver through the room.
"It's out!"
Mary held up the forceps, the bullet gleaming coldly under the light.
Clink— The bullet dropped into the metal tray with a sharp ring that echoed in the small clinic.
After a beat of silence, Ethan released his pressure and quickly grabbed alcohol and a suture kit.
Mary's hands moved again, and the only sound in the clinic was the soft snick-snick of the needle passing through skin.
The bleeding stopped. Breathing resumed its steady rhythm.
With the final knot tied, Mary finally stripped off her gloves and said quietly, "He should make it."
Ethan wiped down the table with gauze, checked the wound site, and confirmed stable respiration.
"Clean work. Precise," he commented.
Mary swayed on her feet, leaning against the counter, and took a shaky breath. Her voice came out hoarse. "Thanks for the assist."
"I just provided the space." Ethan's tone was neutral. "You could've done it without me."
Billy stepped forward then, staring down at his guy. Seeing that the bleeding had stopped and his chest was still rising and falling, he finally exhaled.
"Hell of a job!"
He yanked a thick roll of cash from his jacket and slapped it onto the counter with a satisfying thwap.
"As promised—five grand. Split it between you two."
Ethan didn't reach for it, only saying, "He stays here overnight. He can't be moved yet."
Billy grinned. "Whatever you say, Doc." He pocketed his lighter and nodded. "Dr. Rayne, Mary—you two are damn good."
The group filed out.
The clinic fell quiet again.
Under the harsh light, Mary leaned against the wall, staring at the stack of bills. "Fifty-fifty split?"
Ethan nodded. "Fair enough. But shouldn't you put some clothes on?"
Mary froze, glanced down reflexively, and quickly grabbed her trench coat from the chair, pulling it on. Running a hand through her damp hair, she couldn't help asking:
"So this is the Rayne Clinic? You're Dr. Rayne?"
He looked at her, extending his right hand. "Ethan Rayne."
Mary shook it briefly. "Then tonight... was a good partnership."
Mary's phone suddenly buzzed, jolting her back to the present.
She pulled it out and checked the screen. Text message:
*Billy: Tonight at 9. Lots of clients. Big tips.*
She stared at it for a few seconds, then slipped the phone back into her pocket.
Ethan asked casually, "Dancing at Billy's place again tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Their stage lights are way too bright," Ethan said. "Bad for your eyes."
"Thanks for the concern, Dr. Rayne. But I've got rent to pay."
Mary set down the instruments she'd been holding and walked toward the counter.
"I only dance there because they pay cash."
"I know."
"You don't think that kind of work is shameful, do you?"
"Why would I?" Ethan shook his head. "Making money isn't shameful."
"What?"
"I mean, as long as you're not knocking over a Chase Bank, I support it."
She laughed. "You said it. Remember you said that."
He smiled faintly. "A man's word is his bond."
Mary's gaze lingered on his face for a few seconds before she looked away.
"I'm heading back to campus for class." She paused at the door. "You owe me... hmm, seventeen hundred and sixty bucks now!"
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