Gangsta Brothers

The sound of a roaring engine reverberated through the quiet hospital grounds. Heads turned as the unmistakable roar of a heavily-modified Supra ripped through the air, the boom-boom of the exhaust echoing like thunder. As the car came screeching through the gates, its black body gleamed under the harsh lights, and with a precise, sharp drift, the Supra stopped dead in front of the hospital's entrance, sending a wave of shocked silence through the bystanders.

Before the car had even fully settled, the driver's side door swung open with a force that suggested impatience, urgency, and most of all, danger. A man stepped out, tall and muscular, his face a mix of cold fury and barely-contained anxiety. Jameson, also known as Jimmy, had arrived, and by the look in his bloodshot eyes, the hospital was about to witness something explosive.

Jimmy didn't bother closing the door behind him. His legs moved swiftly, purposefully, as he stormed toward the hospital entrance, his broad shoulders cutting through the air like a predator zeroing in on its prey. His eyes, though burning red with rage, were locked ahead, focused, and unyielding.

Trailing behind him was Garry, who scrambled out of the car with far less composure. His body was still trembling from the adrenaline-fueled ride they'd just taken. Jimmy had pushed the Supra to its absolute limit, flooring the gas pedal until the car hit 260 mph. Even now, Garry's legs wobbled slightly, as though his body hadn't caught up with the fact that the car had finally stopped. His heart was pounding in his chest like a drum, but he fought to keep up with Jimmy's relentless pace.

As they approached the hospital's entrance, the security guards stationed at the door instinctively stepped forward, their hands going to their holstered weapons. The Supra's aggressive entrance had set them on edge, and these two men approaching looked dangerous menacing, even. Their guns were raised, ready to respond to any threat.

But then the guards saw their faces. Jimmy and Garry.

Their hands, which had been steady on their guns, began to tremble. The sweat beaded on their foreheads, their fingers itching to lower their weapons but frozen in shock.

"M-m-mr. Jameson…" one of the guards stammered, his voice quivering as recognition dawned.

These weren't just any dangerous men. These were the gangsta brothers, the most feared underworld figures in all of world. Notorious, untouchable, and utterly ruthless. Their presence alone was enough to send shivers down the spine of anyone with even a basic understanding of who they were.

Jimmy didn't even glance at the guards, his focus still locked on the hospital entrance. He didn't flinch when their guns had been raised, and he certainly didn't slow down when the guards stammered his name. He brushed past them without breaking his stride, Garry hot on his heels.

"Step the f**k aside," Jimmy growled as he walked, his voice low but menacing.

The guards, now drenched in sweat, immediately complied, their hands trembling as they hurried to step out of the way. They knew better than to question Jimmy's commands. Just the sound of his voice sent chills down their spines.

"Y-y-yes, sir… Please…" the second guard stammered, his face pale as he stepped back, giving them a wide berth.

Both Jimmy and Garry entered the hospital without another word, leaving the guards frozen at the entrance, their hands still trembling from the encounter.

"Was that… was that really Jameson? And Garrit?" one guard asked, his voice barely above a whisper, still shaking from the adrenaline.

"Yeah…" the other guard nodded, swallowing hard, his mouth dry. "The fucking world's most dangerous gangsters. We're lucky we didn't get shot just for looking at them."

Inside the hospital, a ripple of fear spread as the two men walked through the lobby. Their mere presence sent shivers down the spines of anyone nearby. The air grew tense, and the atmosphere changed. Bystanders who had been sitting calmly only moments before were now quietly whispering to one another, their eyes darting toward the infamous pair.

Jimmy's pace was relentless as he made his way to the reception desk, his fury simmering just beneath the surface. His movements were sharp, his body exuding a menacing intensity that kept everyone at a distance.

Garry, still struggling to keep up with the speed of everything that was happening, cast nervous glances around the lobby. He could see it in their eyes the nurses, the doctors, even the visitors. They all recognized them. They all knew who they were.

At the front desk, the receptionist, a young woman, caught sight of Jimmy and Garry approaching. Her hands immediately began to tremble as they neared, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely keep her grip on the keyboard in front of her. She had been trained to handle difficult situations, but nothing in her training could prepare her for this.

"Wh-where is Dr. Murphy?" Jimmy barked the moment he reached the desk, not wasting any time on pleasantries. His voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and heavy.

The receptionist swallowed hard, her face pale as she quickly typed into her computer, her fingers fumbling over the keys. She didn't dare meet his eyes, knowing all too well what would happen if she made the wrong move.

"Th-th-the doctor is in the rest room," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Room number 21… down the hall, to the left."

Without a second glance, Jimmy turned on his heel, already heading in the direction she had pointed out. Garry followed, his heart still racing in his chest. The receptionist exhaled shakily, her eyes following Garry's retreating form. She couldn't help but notice the scars that littered his bare torso, each one telling a story of violence and survival. The tattoos that snaked across his skin only added to his intimidating presence, but the scars they were the real story.

Garry was just as dangerous as Jimmy. The two of them together were a storm waiting to happen.

As they neared room 21, Jimmy didn't bother knocking. His hand gripped the door handle, and with a quick twist, he pushed it open with enough force that the door banged against the wall.

Inside, several doctors were sitting, some sipping coffee, others discussing the day's rounds. The room, which had been full of light chatter, fell dead silent as Jimmy entered. The air seemed to freeze.

"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are, barging in like that?" one of the doctors demanded, clearly annoyed. He hadn't looked up yet, too focused on his conversation.

But when he finally did, the color drained from his face. His eyes widened as they fell on Jimmy and Garry, and his voice trailed off into nothing.

The other doctors in the room turned to see what had caused the sudden change in their colleague's demeanor. As soon as they laid eyes on the two men, a collective gasp swept through the room.

"W-we apologize…" the doctor stammered, standing quickly, his hands trembling as he held them up in a gesture of surrender.

Jimmy didn't acknowledge the apology. His eyes were scanning the room, hunting for someone. His expression was cold, his jaw tight.

"Where's Dr. Murphy?" he growled, his voice so low and dangerous that the room seemed to shrink under the weight of it.

All eyes shifted to an older man sitting in the corner. Dr. Murphy, who had just finished the longest surgery of his life, looked exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his body sagged in the chair. But as the entire room turned toward him, the weight of Jimmy's gaze falling on him like a ton of bricks, he suddenly found himself wide awake.

Dr. Murphy's breath hitched in his throat, and his heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the blood draining from his face as he realized why these men were here.

Jimmy's eyes locked onto him, and the tension in the room became unbearable.

"You're Dr. Murphy, right?" Jimmy asked, stepping forward slowly, like a predator closing in on his prey. His voice was calm, but the storm brewing behind his eyes made it clear that this was anything but a normal conversation.

Dr. Murphy nodded slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he placed his coffee cup down on the table. "Y-yes… I am. What… what can I do for you?" His voice was shaky, betraying the terror that was coursing through his veins.

Without breaking eye contact, Jimmy took another step closer, his face inches away from Dr. Murphy's. "You were the one who called me, weren't you? Fifteen minutes ago. You said something about Lucian Kane."

Dr. Murphy swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Y-yes, I was the one who called," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. His mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. where is Lucian?

The room was deadly silent, all the doctors holding their breath, watching the exchange like they were witnessing something terrible about to unfold.