"They are the kind of people who won't even attend their own funerals because they are too immersed in their research."
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Maximillian Grant, an alpha federal agent in charge of explosion cases, was roused awake from his bed at midnight by a call of distress from the National Bureau of Security.
After changing into his work uniform and grabbing several necessary items including his gun, he marched out of his house and climbed into his hover car.
The vehicle rose several inches over the asphalt before it shot forward with a speed of 200 mph, heading directly to the explosion site.
By the time Maximillian Grant arrived, the Eichwald Center for Neurology and Psyche was nothing but a smoldering pile of concrete and glass on a snowy field. A plume of gray smoke, barely discernible against the vast canvas of stars, struggled skyward.
A flurry of uniformed figures zipped past Maximillian. Firefighters, medical personnel, and his own people from the Explosive Ordinance Disposal and Prevention Division all converged on the scene in a well-rehearsed chaos.
"Chief Grant!"
Maximillian turned to his protégé, a male alpha by the name of Stefan Wildner. The latter approached him with a tablet, its surface brimming with hastily compiled reports containing known facts about the explosion this time.
"The first explosion happened at several spots in the hospital, probably triggered by the same source.
One of the bombs was planted close to the hospital's medicine and chemical storage, thus triggering a second, bigger explosion.
This second explosion eventually caused the entire hospital to collapse."
Maximillian put on his white rubber gloves and marched toward the explosion site with Stefan in tow.
"Casualties?"
"Everyone in the hospital at the moment of the explosion was implicated. Inpatients, night shift hospital staff. Thankfully, with Christmas approaching, the hospital had been operating with minimal staff, relying more heavily on robots for patient supervision."
"Agent Grant!"
Maximillian turned his head to look at a group of alphas who formed the core members of the Search and Rescue Team.
"Great timing," he remarked. "Put the gas masks and blast suits on. Let us dig through the ruins."
The Search and Rescue Team dug into the ward areas, unearthing several casualties with alarming speed. Alas, none showed any signs of life. All thirty bodies they found were dead.
"Don't give up!" Maximillian bellowed. "Even if we can save just one person, that's a life worth fighting for!"
As soon as a body was unearthed, the forensic team sprang into action. A swab danced across exposed skin, collecting a sample for DNA analysis. With lightning speed, the genetic profile was uploaded and matched against the National Genotyping Registry's vast database.
With each successful match, Stefan ticked another name off his list, a grim tally etched across the surface of his tablet.
Two agonizing hours crawled by before all the names on the list were ticked.
"Chief, all hospital patients and staff in charge for the night have been identified."
Maximillian ripped off his gas mask, gasping for the frigid air. Sweat, slicking his face moments ago, turned icy against his skin.
"Are you sure that these are all we have?"
The division chief scanned the list from top to bottom.
"Absolutely sure, Chief!"
And yet, not a moment later, the Search and Rescue Team reported the discovery of yet another victim.
"Oh, my goodness!" The Field DNA Analyst exclaimed as soon as he identified the latest body. "It is Mr. Atticus Bates, that renowned scientist who became Nobel Prize Laureate in medicine several years ago!"
After checking the body for vital signs, he cried out again, "Pulse weak but still alive! I need the Emergency Medical Technician here! Someone, take him to the hospital!"
Maximillian and Stefan sprinted towards the first survivor they had found amidst the wreckage of the explosion.
Inside the man's crumpled pants pocket, Maximillian unearthed a metallic glint. It was a name card, engraved with the inscription "Atticus Bates" in gold lettering. Without this tangible evidence, Maximillian might have suspected the Field DNA Analyst of some gas-induced hallucination.
"What is a Nobel Prize winner doing in a mental institution late at night, during the Christmas holiday?"
Both Stefan and the Field DNA Analyst shrugged.
"Chief, you should not question these geniuses. They are the kind of people who won't even attend their own funerals because they are too immersed in their research."
"The man was not directly impacted by the explosion because he was trapped under a Grandfather Clock," one of the Search and Rescue Team members quipped. "Blessing in disguise?"
Stefan shrugged.
"I guess. At least he's alive. That is blessing enough considering that the others are dead."
Maximillian rose to his feet. With a heavy sigh, he took in the scene of utter devastation around him. An entire building was destroyed overnight.
"That's it, then?"
"That's it," Stefan simply confirmed the end of the search, seemingly unfazed by the unexpected discovery of Atticus, whose name wasn't even on the list.
Maximillian offered a reassuring pat on Stefan's shoulder. "One more sweep," he declared with a confident smile. "Let's not leave any stone unturned."
"Alright, Chief."
Stefan clutched the tablet close to his chest and announced, "ONE MORE SWEEP!"
Maximillian led the Search and Rescue Team on a final pass through the skeletal remains of the psychiatric hospital. Each ward was checked, each crumbled corridor traversed, all meticulously plotted against a map displayed on his tablet.
Suddenly, an inexplicable sweetness entered Maximillian's keen nose, a sharp contrast to the acrid tang of dust and smoke. Maximillian furrowed his brows and followed the trail of the cloying fragrance. The descent led him to a specific section of debris. Beneath several crumbling concrete slabs lay a fallen pillar, pinning something beneath its weight.
"Everyone, come down here!" Maximillian barked, his voice resonating with urgency. "Someone is trapped down here!"