Medical Center.
Emergency Room.
"Dr. Duncan…"
The middle-aged sociologist, Desmond, had his wish granted—only to get knocked out cold with a single punch. A nurse quickly relayed the "unfortunate" news to Adam, asking if he'd come over to diagnose (and maybe enjoy) the situation.
"Mr. Desmond really wasn't careful, huh?" Adam sighed. "I've never met someone with a request like his in all my years."
"Neither have we," the nurse giggled.
"Well, someone finally gave him what he wanted," Adam nodded. "I'll pass on checking him out. Let Dr. Lewis handle it. Hopefully, he stops looking for trouble—otherwise, he'll be done for before his project even gets results."
"Got it, Dr. Duncan," the nurse replied with a grin before heading off.
Adam couldn't help but chuckle to himself. This sociologist's project was interesting, sure, but the variables were just too messy.
First off, people who provoke others come in all flavors. Take Sheldon, for example. From the day he was born, he's been pissing people off left and right for decades. And what's he got to show for it? A punch to the face from Paige, a jab to the nose from Penny, and a slap from Leonard—though that slap was at Sheldon's own request. Penny's punch? That only happened when Sheldon crept up to her in the middle of the night, reaching for her chest like a creep, and she swung in "self-defense." Otherwise, even when she was pissed, she couldn't bring herself to hit him.
Sheldon's daily dose of brutal honesty could drive anyone up the wall, but why was he still kicking? Simple: looks. Leonard and Penny basically treated him like a kid they were babysitting. When they broke up, they even got jealous over who'd take Sheldon shopping or hang out with him. Once, after a long day of fun, Sheldon crashed hard, and as they watched him sleep, they gushed, "Sleeping Sheldon looks like an angel." Without that cute charm and brainy vibe, Sheldon wouldn't have survived to adulthood.
Sheldon once compared himself to a bird that sneaks into other birds' nests, hogging all the resources. Leonard likened him to a baby seal stealing milk from two moms. Point is, Sheldon's got this weird aura that makes people hesitate to lay a hand on him. Well, except for Paige—she's immune to it. With her sky-high IQ and looks that outshine his, she doesn't care about his charm. When she's mad, she swings, no hesitation.
And then there's Missy, his twin sister, a whole other story. She's been fighting Sheldon since they were in the womb—apparently, he "almost absorbed her into a mole." She's his natural enemy, always ready with a swift kick where it hurts. Totally normal for her.
Now, this balding middle-aged sociologist? Zero charm. No matter how much he studies, his data's gonna be skewed—it's not universal. Hmm… maybe they could factor in a "looks correction coefficient" to see just how much this superficial world judges by appearances. 🤔
---
Night fell.
"Dr. Duncan," a nurse gave Adam a knowing look.
Adam glanced toward the ward and saw a few long-legged high school cheerleaders flailing around, their expressions totally off.
"They on something?" Adam frowned.
"Looks like it," the nurse nodded.
"I'm Dr. Duncan…" Adam started as he approached, but he didn't even get to finish.
"Wow! So hot!"
"I'm obsessed!"
"I wanna %$#@ you!"
The three cheerleaders, grinning like idiots, lunged at him.
"Asshole!"
The lone tall guy—a jock, clearly—saw red and charged at Adam too. "They're mine!"
"Shit!" Adam cursed under his breath, dodging nimbly. In a few quick moves, he took down the jock and pinned the three giggling cheerleaders to the bed.
"Restraints!"
The nurse stood there, jaw dropped, watching these three flirty troublemakers try to cop a feel. She snapped out of it and called for backup. A few more nurses rushed in, taking over from Adam, pinning the girls down, and strapping them to the beds to keep them still.
"You brought them here?" Adam asked, yanking the jock off the floor by the collar.
"Yeah," the guy admitted, sobered up a bit by Adam's strength. As a football player, he respected raw power.
"What'd you give them? Ecstasy?" Adam stared him down.
"Yeah," the guy nodded.
"No other junk mixed in?" Adam's gaze turned icy.
In this TV-drama version of the US, drugs were everywhere. People often started with one kind, then mixed others for a bigger high—more thrilling, but way more dangerous.
"If you wanna test it, I've still got some," the jock pointed to his backpack.
"Hand it over," Adam ordered, letting go so the guy's feet hit the ground.
The jock stumbled, nearly falling, then shakily pulled out a big box of heart-shaped chocolates from his bag.
"You spiked the chocolates?" Adam's voice grew colder.
Yeah, in this TV-drama high school world, the girls who claw their way to cheerleading aren't usually angels. Cheerleaders and quarterbacks—they're the classic high school power couples. And cheerleaders often mess around with football, basketball, baseball players—sometimes even the whole team. "Team bonding" with drugs isn't uncommon.
But there's a huge difference between taking something willingly and being drugged without knowing. Adam knew plenty of stories—good, innocent girls who went to a party, got slipped something, and spiraled into self-destruction afterward.
Drugging food like chocolates? That's next-level sneaky. In this party-obsessed TV world, you can't avoid social events entirely. But one bite of tainted food or sip of a spiked drink, and you're out of it—dazed, giggling, defenseless. Easy prey for something awful. Afterward, you might not even know how many people took advantage of you. Beyond the emotional scars and judgment, there's the physical fallout: diseases, pregnancy, you name it. Worse, some don't even survive long enough to face those consequences.
"You realize they could have seizures, kidney damage, fall into a coma—or even die?" Adam said coldly.
"Uh…" The jock looked down. "It's not that serious… Can we not tell the cops?"
"No chance," Adam sneered. "Not only will the cops know, but so will your parents—and theirs. And I'll make damn sure they understand every single consequence of this stunt."
The jock's face went pale.
"Take it for testing," Adam gestured to the box of chocolates.
A nurse stepped up to grab it.
Adam sighed, glancing at the cheerleaders still writhing on the beds, giggling uncontrollably. If he ever had a daughter, he'd rather she be a bookworm than a social butterfly.
Hmm… If that day ever came, maybe he'd send her to Juno to be raised. A son might turn out too weird under Juno's influence. But a daughter? In a messed-up world like this, better she learns to be the predator than the prey. 😅 belamy20