“This is hardly a prank,” Clarke said. “Now, we’re going to need a gurney and morphine, as well as a team of nurses to set the cast.”

“So it’s drugs you’re after?” the receptionist asked. “Then I’m definitely calling the cops.”

Clarke sighed. He should have expected this reaction in such a dingy city. He turned with as much sympathy as he could muster and, with a frown, said, “Sorry Steve.”

Before Steve could say that he wasn’t ready, Clarke took a quick step, taking the junkie out of his sphere of influence. Steve crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain as the drugs overtook him. His roars turned into a dull moan after a moment, but he was still in tremendous pain.

“What did you do?!” the receptionist yelled. “Why did you break his leg like that?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Clarke defended, speaking just loud enough to be heard over Steve’s cries. The other two people in the waiting room backed away as far as they could against the back wall. “Just get someone out here, will you?”

Just then, the commotion drew the attention of a nearby doctor. A woman in her mid-thirties rushed into the waiting room. Her black, wavy hair danced down her back. She had a fair complexion about her. Despite her stressful job in a stressful city, she took great pride in her appearance.

“What’s going on?” the doctor asked. “What’s wrong with this man?”

“This crazy son of a bitch just came in and broke this guy’s leg somehow!” the receptionist spouted. “I think they’re after drugs!”

“Either way, he’s hurt,” Clarke said, bringing the focus back where it belonged. “Fractured tibia. And he was a junkie living on the streets, so he may likely have some infections.”

“No, but he—”

“Don’t you have a job to do?”

The doctor called for a gurney and some nurses. Within moments, a team of three men and women dressed in blue scrubs ran into the waiting room and helped Steve onto a gurney. They pulled him back from the waiting rooms and headed deeper inside.

“Are you a friend of his?” the doctor asked. “Do you happen to know his medical history?”

“No idea,” Clarke answered. “I found him in an alley and we walked here.”

“‘We’?” the doctor repeated. “You mean… the both of you walked?”

“Yes.”

The doctor gave Clarke a strange look, examining him curiously. She took a step towards the back rooms so she could treat the new entry. “I still have questions for you,” she said. “Stay here.”

“I don’t know the guy,” Clarke said. “There isn’t much I can tell you, so questions won’t do you much good.”

“Not those kinds of questions,” the doctor said again. “Just stay here and take a seat.”

“I’d rather—”

“Sit!”