What Was Worth A Heart

Chapter 120: Part Of The Plan

I seriously don't know if I can ever finish this, but I swear we're not too far away from the end. After the end, there's an epilogue, both of which has all the angst I've been thinking of since 2019. I've polished that scene in my head a couple of times already and god knows how much I want it bleed into real words already. 

Since It's climax, I think it would be logical for everything to speed up, right? Sorry for future short chapters. Still sorting out the order of everything here. 

Anyway, thank you all who has survived this fic from when it was still a mary sue main character fanfiction all the way to now when I have another fic that has better characterization. I admire your devotion, for if I am honest, I would drop this fic had I been the one reading it instead. Seriously, it's ridiculously long, how do you guys read this what the hell. Anyway, let's get going!

We're almost at the heart-wrenching part!

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Micah heard the heart was on the way to the ER and didn't know what to do with his life anymore. Then he heard Anubis' voice, and instantly thought that there was nothing that could stop him from retiring right after this whole fiasco. The one reason why he went back from Palestine that one time was because he sorely believed that long-term stress was bad for the body, and made it a mission to only visit once a year to help. The remaining time of the year would be spent in Momosu Academy where the ambience should be the calmest ever. It was a small island indeed. 

Now though. Now he was ironically proven wrong. 

He really didn't want to go on a solo surgery. Sure, Micah was no normal doctor. More than just a normal surgeon, he was a neurosurgeon at some point in his life, and that meant he could do almost all surgery in existence. To do it alone though, was not something he dared practice on a daily basis. Human life was important, so wanting to practice doing surgery alone was like toying with human bodies for his own self benefit. So no, he hadn't had the chance to be good at that. 

He had, however, performed a liver transplant alone back in Palestine. Once. 

He had sworn not to do it again, albeit the very good, very lucky and obviously very unapproved success of said surgery. It wasn't bad, per se, but the thought of fighting alone in a surgical room was horrifying. 

But now? 

After finally seeing his doctors, all four of them, as well as nurses, six, sprawled on the floor, bleeding for what seemed like hours, he felt like he didn't have a choice. 

He checked their pulses, their injuries, and within seconds, made a quick estimation about how long they had to live if left untreated. Micah barely had his medical tools, barely had anything to perform surgery with, or the appropriate space, or the appropriate time, or the appropriate environment. Not with the sound of gunshot from the floor above, or the banging on the wall from the room on his left. Those doctors, his doctors and his nurses were bleeding on the floor, far too long than what was appropriate. He didn't have enough blood bags on his body. Hell, even if he went to fix one of them right now, the other nine would be dead already. Stab wounds, major concussions, bleeding throat.