"Zero by name, zero by results. You'll never make it as a cop, Marcus."
Academy training room. Lockers slamming. Laughter echoing. Always the same jokes, always the same sneers.
"Bottom of the class again, Zero?"
"Hey Zero, living up to your name as usual!"
"Some people aren't just cut out for this job. Guess your name was an omen, huh?"
***
It was getting annoying. Bad memories kept flashing through my mind, each one sharper than the last.
I should've just fucking waited for backup instead of playing hero!
I had no one to blame but myself for my current situation.
My shoulder throbbed in sync with the heart monitor's steady beeping beside me.
I bit my lip in frustration. One week as an official police officer, and here I was, laid up with a stab wound.
I could've lost my life. Instead, I'd gotten off "lucky" - just a knife to the shoulder from some thief.
The embarrassment burned worse than the wound. I'd walked right into his trap like some green recruit.
I clenched my fist, forcing myself to replay the events from a few hours ago.
It should've been simple - just a shoplifting case. Perfect for a rookie like me.
But I'd stacked one mistake on top of another!
First mistake: following the suspect into that narrow alley.
Basic academy training, and I'd ignored it completely!
I was so focused on not letting him escape, so desperate to prove I could handle a simple case. Look how that turned out...
My fist tightened as I remembered how close I'd come to dying just hours ago.
Second mistake - and this one was nearly fatal: rushing that corner.
The thief turned left at the dead end. I rushed after him. Didn't pie the corner. Didn't check my angles. Just charged in like some rookie... Which is exactly what I am.
And that thief? He was no amateur.
He'd set up a trap, and I walked right into it.
The way he held himself back there - it was obvious this wasn't his first rodeo. I served myself up on a silver platter. No backup, no tactical position. No plan.
His face is burned into my memory: that smile when he saw I was alone, the glint of the blade I should have seen coming.
Then my rookie move - reaching for the taser instead of creating distance. The searing pain as the knife found my shoulder.
Every basic rule from the academy, forgotten in an instant.
Never chase alone. Always wait for backup. Clear corners properly. Watch the hands. Maintain distance. Read body language.
I'd broken every single one of those fucking rules!
Now I'm stuck here - completely useless. The suspect's in the wind, and Mrs. Chen, the convenience store owner, needed stitches for her cut.
Could've been worse - should've been worse, given how sloppy I was.
"Zero situational awareness. Zero actual thinking. Zero common sense. Just zero all around."
Self-loathing feels about right at this point.
Thinking back to those rough days at the academy, maybe my fellow cadets were onto something.
My family name Zero really was an omen.
[System activates...]
Wait... what was that?
[System Initializing...]
[Host Detected: Marcus Zero]
[Status: Critical]
[Physical Condition: Severely Compromised]
[Initializing Detective System...]
A transparent interface materialized before my eyes.
I blinked hard. The text stayed right where it was.
My first thought was painkillers - had to be the morphine playing tricks. But the sharp throb in my shoulder felt too real for this to be a hallucination.
[Current Status:
- Critical Injury (Left Shoulder)
- Blood Loss: Significant
- Pain Level: Severe
- Physical Condition: Weakened
Analyzing Wound:
- Knife Wound, 4 inches deep
- Muscle damage detected
- No arterial damage
- Recovery time estimated: 4-6 weeks]
I rubbed my eyes until they hurt - but those glowing words wouldn't budge.
"Holy shit, I'm not dreaming," I whispered.
The text floated there, displaying information about my shoulder wound with terrifying accuracy. How the hell did it know all these details?
[Tutorial Mode Activated]
[Beginning Emergency Recovery Protocol
Immediate Objectives:
1. Pain Management
- Control breathing
- Monitor medication effectiveness
- Track pain levels
2. Wound Recovery
- Minimize movement
- Track healing progress
- Note any complications]
Each heartbeat sent a fresh wave of pain through my shoulder, but something else was happening too. Information started flooding into my consciousness from whatever this thing was.
It was like having a medical scanner wired directly into my brain. I could sense exactly which movements aggravated the wound, feel the medication working its way through my system with uncanny precision.
[First Recovery Mission]
[Objective: Learn to manage injury
Duration: Next 12-24 hours
Tasks:
□ Document pain patterns
□ Map safe movement ranges
□ Monitor medication timing
□ Record healing indicators
Warning: Excessive movement will impact recovery]
This was incredible... Like having a cutting-edge diagnostic system at my disposal.
A personal doctor, but better - more precise, more detailed.
Something shifted in my perception. The pain was still there, throbbing away, but now it felt... quantifiable. Manageable. Like I could map it out in my head.
Creak
The door swung open, and in walked my senior officer, fruit basket in hand. "Here you are, rookie."
"Senior Bryan." I managed a slight nod, trying not to aggravate my shoulder.
"Jesus, kid." Bryan shook his head, setting down the basket. "Of all the reckless stunts... You know you could've died out there, right? What were you thinking?"
"Haha..." I scratched the back of my head, immediately regretting the movement as pain shot through my shoulder.
"That's all you've got to say? 'Haha'?" Bryan's voice carried equal parts concern and frustration. "This isn't a joke, Marcus. We could've been planning your funeral right now."
"Not much else I can say, is there?" I let out a wry chuckle, the system's interface still flickering in my peripheral vision as it tracked my pain levels.
"Next time, don't play lone hero, Marcus." Bryan's voice was stern but worried. "One week on the force, and you're already in a hospital bed. Could've been so much worse." He sighed heavily.
I gave a wry shake of my head. Soon after, other officers from the department filtered in, making small talk before leaving.
As they walked down the hallway, their voices carried back to my room.
"Well, his name really fits - Zero in everything."
"Taking bets on how long this kid lasts?"
"Ten bucks says he'll be begging for desk duty by next month."
Laughter echoed down the corridor until Bryan's sharp voice cut through: "Shut it and keep walking. You're supposed to be cops, not gossiping housewives."
I shook my head at their words, trying not to let them sting.
Focus. I had to concentrate on the tutorial mission - monitoring my injured shoulder.
I worked on mastering my breathing patterns, testing careful movements within safe ranges. When night fell, the night shift nurse came in with pain medication. She administered the morphine through my IV, explaining the dosage and timing.
But something felt off...
Two hours later, the pain hadn't subsided at all. If anything, it felt worse. Was there something wrong with the morphine the nurse had given me?
[Alert: Anomaly Detected
- Pain levels: Increasing
- Expected medication effect: Not detected
- Time since administration: 2 hours
- Normal response time: 15-30 minutes
Warning: Current pain patterns inconsistent with standard morphine response]