North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

The one pulling the strings was indeed related to the "Source of Pain"! Still... Dean frowned as he looked at the man with the contorted face.

He seemed to have seen this person before.

Dean rubbed his forehead, trying to activate his fragmented memory palace to recall when he might have seen the man's face. Instead, he let out a muffled groan as the dizziness, which had previously subsided, rushed back.

Fuck! This is a concussion!

Dean didn't dare stimulate his brain further and began to search the man. Using professional techniques, just over ten seconds later, he found several bottles of painkillers, a vial of powder with unknown ingredients, an old pager, and a grocery shopping list.

The painkillers were easy to understand. The fanatics from the "Source of Pain" were masochists. They enjoyed torturing themselves, believing it purified their sins. However, this self-torture also left their bodies riddled with old injuries. They had to rely on medication to alleviate the pain when these old wounds flared up and to maintain normal mobility.

Dean's attention focused mainly on the pager and the grocery shopping list.

Such old pagers were seldom used anymore, except by some patrol security guards. Their range was limited, far less than a mobile phone's, but they were also more secure.

This meant the man had an accomplice nearby!

Dean picked up the pager, intending to see if he could contact the other side, but a low female voice spoke first from the device: "The cops are here! I'm pulling out!"

The next moment, WEE-OO, WEE-OO, WEE-OO. The wail of sirens, arriving with pinpoint precision just as everything concluded, shattered the deathly silence of the chaotic area.

...

His palm clenched tightly around the grocery list.

In a daze, Dean thought he heard Harry's tearful voice and the frantic voices of doctors and nurses:

"Buddy, be strong! Don't fall asleep! FUCK! You said you'd watch my back..."

"He's lost too much blood! Do a blood test, quickly!"

"Doctor, the patient's right hand is gripping something tightly! The muscles and skin are too rigid; the needle won't go in easily!"

"Are you an idiot? Forget that! Apply direct pressure to the wound! Hurry, I'm worried he'll go into shock!"

In his hazy state, Dean memorized the voice of that nurse.

How dare she stick me with a needle. When I wake up, I'll definitely stick her back!

As a cool liquid flowed into his body, Dean's consciousness finally sank into darkness, and he fell into a deep sleep.

...

"Jenny, did you get to feel his abs? That definition is just perfect! If that Black detective hadn't been guarding the door, I'd have devoured him by now!"

"Haha~" A group of young nurses giggled.

A much more mature female voice added with a laugh, "You girls only look at the surface. That's too shallow."

The nurse who had spoken earlier asked curiously, "Head Nurse, if not the surface, then what should we look at? He's really handsome, and his physique is perfect! I heard he's a Chief Detective at the police department. I'd love to be his wife!"

The Head Nurse chuckled. "What good are looks? It's what's *inside* that truly matters, and his... well, it's about *this* big..." She gestured, eliciting a series of gasps and the sound of gulping.

Not far away, Harry watched resentfully as this pack of wolf-like nurses shamelessly voiced their desires.

Not only did he have to watch helplessly as his good buddy was being lewdly objectified, but he also had to endure their unrestrained, suggestive banter.

Harry touched the thick wad of notes in his pocket and sighed inwardly. Buddy, you can't blame me for this! These women... they offered way too much!

Just then, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. The call light at the nurses' station went off.

The chatting nurses saw the room number and exclaimed, "It's Room Three! The Chief Detective is awake!"

Before Harry could react, a group of nurses pushed him aside and rushed into the patient room.

So, when Dean wanted to call a nurse to find out what had happened after he'd lost consciousness, the door burst open to reveal no fewer than six nurses with fervent gazes.

The Head Nurse, her expression composed and dignified, smiled at Dean. "Chief Detective Dean, you're finally awake. Don't worry, this is Maria Hospital. We're the nurses assigned to care for you."

Dean's senses were sharp. He instinctively pulled the blanket tighter around himself and asked, "Thank you. What time is it? And is there a phone I can use? I need to contact my colleague!"

"Today is January 22nd. You've been unconscious for a full three days. Your colleague is just outside, but given your current condition..."

"Please ask him to come in. And my condition is fine!"

For some reason, Dean felt these nurses were looking at him like a pack of wolves, their eyes glinting with predatory eagerness. He decisively spoke up, wanting his colleague outside to come in immediately!

This was no joke! He could tell at a glance what these women had on their minds! One drop of essence is worth ten drops of blood! He'd lost God knows how much blood before passing out; he couldn't afford to be drained further!

After shooing away the overly enthusiastic nurses, Harry rushed in, his face alight with surprised joy. "FUCK! You scared the hell out of me earlier! I thought you weren't going to wake up!"

Dean shook his head. "Just a mild concussion. The grocery list I was holding before I passed out—where is it?"

"You mean this?" Harry pulled a blood-stained piece of paper from his pocket. "The doctor gave this to me after your surgery. He said you were gripping it very tightly in your right hand and only loosened your grip after they gave you an injection. He sensed it was very important to you, so he had the nurses pass it on to me."

Seeing the list was still there, Dean breathed a sigh of relief.