Medical Warrior King

“Do you want her to die, or you want your daughter to live?” I snapped, my eyes locking onto the mother trembling. She froze. Screams died in her throat. Only sobs left, ragged and shaky as her daughter convulsed violently on the kitchen floor. I didn’t blame her. No parent should have to witness this. Toria’s skin which was once pale and delicate was now darkening with thick black veins crawling across her neck and forehead. I recognized it instantly. Oblivion Strain.The deadliest toxin our enemies ever birthed. I grabbed scissors from the counter and cut a small incision at her neck, I and a straw from a discarded Coke can, jammed it into the incision, and began drawing out the blackened blood. Every second felt like an hour. “Stay with me, kid,” I muttered. “I’ve got you.” Her body twitched once… twice… then slowly relaxed. The black veins began to fade. Her breathing evened. ***************** 4 hours Earlier. (Rediron Bastille.) I stepped outside the gate and look behind the wall. Rediron Bastille, that’s what they called the place. A house for monsters disguised as men. The government called it a penitentiary. The streets called it the end of the line. Its walls weren’t just concrete—they were scars carved into the earth. Barbed wire coiled over steel fences like venomous snakes, watchtowers stabbed into the sky, and searchlights sliced through the dusk like blades. Rumor said no one ever walked out alive unless they left zipped in a body bag. And yet… the gates creaked open for me. There were five helicopters thundered above, their rotors whipping the air into a frenzy. There were Police vehicles, it's sirens were silent and they formed a perimeter around the prison. I stepped out with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder. I took a deep breath of freedom. A man came forward, he appeared to be in his late forties. Military-cut hair. Two silver stars gleaming on his shoulder. He worn a stern expressions. I saluted. “Director Jackson.” The silence between us was heavy, until Jackson's expression cracked. "You've gone fat, Kelvin" he said, his voice dripping with amusement. A laugh slipped out of me. “Five years of prison slop will do that.” And just like that, the tension snapped. We both burst into laughter. When it faded, Jackson’s face hardened. “I’m sorry it took six years to get you out.” I shifted my bag higher. “If it wasn’t for you, sir, I’d still be rotting in that hole. Forever grateful, director.” “You were supposed to be extracted after the Phoenix Operation,” he said. “But…” The unspoken words hung between us. The Phoenix Operation was a secret mission to locate the laboratory's headquarters for Oblivion Strain toxins. Five years ago, I'd led an elite team, handpicked by Jackson, as part of the newly formed "Spectre Unit" – an elite force created to combat bio-terrorism. Our mission had been compromised, leaked to the enemy. We lost Victor "Hawk" Lee, he is more than a soldier to me, he was like a brother to me and one of our strongest operatives. The memory still seared my mind. I was blinded by rage, I'd stormed the enemy base, unleashing hell. The aftermath was a blur of blood and chaos, anywhere I entered I made sure there was no survivor. The government had disavowed our mission, leaving me stranded. Jackson's influence was the only reason I wasn't left to die. "Director, you didn't fail me. I failed the team." “No.” His eyes sharpened like blades. “You didn’t fail anyone. The system failed you. And we both know it.” He exhaled, then his voice lowered. “Kelvin, Dr. Roody is still out there. Interpol spotted him slipping into Dubai, but he’s vanished again. Intel says he’s coming back.” I felt the fire in my chest stir again. “Director, no. I’ve done my part. I want peace now. No shadows. No more blood.” His jaw flexed. “This isn’t about you anymore. If Roody unleashes Oblivion Strain again, millions of people will die. And you’re the only man alive who knows his methods.” I shook my head. “You’ve rebuilt Specter Unit. You don’t need me.” For the first time, Jackson’s voice cracked—not with anger, but with something heavier. “Then at least… see your mentors. Master Chen. Sensei Kaito. They made you who you are. And…” He hesitated, then pressed a folder into my hand. “…one of them is dying.” The folder burned in my grip, heavier than chains. I didn’t open it. My throat felt tight. “Okay,” I muttered. Without another word, I turned and walked away, the folder clutched tightly in my hand. I didn't look back. Jackson’s voice carried after me, rough against the wind: “Come back when you’re ready, Kelvin. You’ll always have a war here waiting.” ______________________________________ The train screeched to a halt, and I stepped onto the platform of a quaint little town. The sun was sinking, staining the clouds a bruised orange. People brushed past me as each lost in their own hurried world in the middle of the crowd, I saw him. He stood out like a neon. He wore a crimson suit, his curly hair perfectly styled. His grin was wide, his eyes mischievous, and before I could even blink, he barreled toward me. “Kelvin, my man! Finally out!” I barely had time to brace before he engulfed me in a bear hug that could’ve cracked ribs. “Henry,” I muttered, half-laughing, half-choking as I tried to wriggle free. Henry Hart. My older brother. The man who could charm angels and still get them to sin. “I told you not to come, Henry. I’m fine.” He pulled back, grinning. “I’ve missed you, little bro. And tough luck—you’re stuck with me now.” His words were light, but my chest tightened. The old days memories came back to me. We were once a small, happy family. Until I made one reckless mistake which brought a ten-million-dollar debt that nearly destroyed us. The shame never left me. And as if fate wasn’t cruel enough, the same year, our parents’ car burst into flames on a rainy highway. The report said suicide. Henry and I knew better. We knew our parents weren’t the type to give up on life. That year shattered us. Broke us. Left Henry carrying the weight of both protector and provider. He shipped me into the military soon after, hoping it would fix me. Or maybe just save me. And here he was, smiling like none of it had ever happened. “Come on,” Henry said, winking. “Let’s hit a bar. We need to celebrate your grand return.” I didn’t protest. Instead, I slid into Henry’s sleek, black sports car. Every inch screamed luxury. Henry always did have expensive taste. As he sped down the road, city lights flashing past, I studied him. The suit. The designer watch glinting under the dash light. The perfectly groomed curls. Henry had paid off that monstrous debt somehow. He wasn’t just surviving. He was thriving. But at what cost? We pulled into an exclusive estate where mansions stood like fortresses, each bigger than the last. Henry parked at the end of a cobblestone driveway in front of a villa that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. “Welcome home, little bro,” he said, popping the trunk and pulling out a chilled bottle of wine. We entered the villa, and I was struck by its opulent interior. In the living room, we met a woman sat on a leather armchair. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was sharp. Piercing green eyes locked onto us, her posture straight, her presence heavy enough to make the air thicken. Beside her, a little girl with curls identical to Henry’s hummed softly as she played with a doll, oblivious to the storm about to break. Henry stiffened. His cocky grin vanished. In one swift move, he shoved the wine bottle behind his back like a guilty teenager hiding cigarettes. “Clara…” he stammered. His voice cracked, weak, a stranger’s tone. “I—I thought you said you’d be away until next month?” I knitted my brows. Who was this woman? “Henry,” I said slowly, my eyes never leaving her, “care to explain?” His face turned pale, his usual confidence shattering like glass. “Uh… Kelvin, this is… Clara... My… wife.” Wife? Henry? Married? But Henry never told me he married? Clara didn’t even flinch. Her eyes never left Henry. “And this,” Henry said, motioning to the little girl, “is our daughter… Amelia.” I extended a hand, trying to mask my shock. “It’s an honor to meet you.” But Clara’s face shifted into a snarl. She didn’t take my hand. Instead, she leaned forward, her eyes blazing with venom. “You’re not welcome here,” she spat. Her voice was venomous."Get out.”