“Doctor Downings...he’s dying. What do we do?” Asked one of the med students, sweat dripping off their anxious brow. Though time was clearly almost out, the master surgeon took a beat to think and respond.

“Get used to this feeling.” Marvin Downings removed his coat, called TOD and left the room without another word, leaving an entire slack-jawed class of students in complete shock, some even weeping quietly.

In the surgical wing, hospital staff was hushed while MD stepped doggedly down the hall. He was highly regarded in medicine, receiving much adoration and achievements globally throughout his career. It was a strange time for him, however. Marvin was on something he never had been; a losing streak.

Beyond question from others, the Doc was the only one to doubt himself. Months of consistent failure dragged him into a dark abyss. He considered hanging it up and retiring, but he knew his expertise was indispensable. The lives he could save far outweighed the many he lost over the prior three weeks.

“Doctor Downings, we could use your help in here.” A nurse interrupted Marvin’s spiraling. He washed and gloved up to enter the operating room. He took one look at the procedure in progress and knew what was happening. “How dare you?”

A fellow surgeon and some staff had coordinated a minor surgical procedure with next to zero risk so that the Doc could have a win under his belt. He stormed out of the room and out the front of the building.

“HELP.”

A man in white appeared in the air at the entrance to the building. He floated for a moment, grasping at a spot on his lower abdomen, which did not bleed. Then, he fell to the floor at Marvin’s feet.

Forgetting his slump completely, he carried the man into the hospital and staff made way for him to use an empty room.

“Leave us.” He ordered the others. He felt this man came to him directly and wished to avoid involving anyone else, to protect him and them.

The man in white lay on his back on an operating table. Doctor Downings opened the white robes, which felt like air to the touch. The injury the man was grasping still did not bleed. The wound emitted pure light. He’d never dealt with anything even close to this before. But nobody had.

“What caused this?” Marvin asked the man in white.

“A horn.” His voice was less powerful than before. The injury was showing to be serious.

“Bull-fighting?”

“Sure.”

“I’m going in, I need to know what I’m dealing with.” Marvin warned the man in white. A nod assured him he was ready.

Doctor Downings, with no equipment, no gloves, reached into the opening in the patient’s abdomen. He, for a moment, thought the light had taken his hands, as there was no feeling at all. Then, he could feel them again, but he could feel more. He felt power underneath his skin, energy flowing from his wrists to his fingertips.

Whatever was able to wound the man in white could not be undone himself. Doctor Downing, powered by his light, however, needed only to lay a hand on the wound to heal it fully. Without a word, when Marvin’s glowing hands were pulled out, the man in white vanished.

Being someone who works constantly and pays no mind to media, he didn’t understand the whispers of people who had seen him enter. They all repeated the name ‘Gospel’ in discussion, eyeing the Doc to try and piece together what happened. He was wise to cover his hands in gloves afterwards and leave them in his coat pockets to further conceal the glow.

From that event on, Marvin Downings never lost a patient. He became even more prolific a surgeon than he had been. Even without detail, rumor spread of what happened, and the Doc took on the name Post Op.