Black screen. Gunshots, police sirens, radio chatter; absolute chaos plays behind the curtain of darkness.
Jump cut to emergency room doors being splayed open by a stretcher racing at 99 Miles Per Hour. EMTs rapidly relate dire statistics and coordinate supplies in a desperate attempt to bring a human life back from the brink of forever. Their progress? Temporary. Fleeting. Superfluous. They agree: there’s only one man in this hospital, and maybe even the world, who can beat the clock. Beat the odds. Only one man standing between life, and the opposite of that. The other one. The bad one. The stretcher hurtles down a hallway, gathering an every larger crowd of boisterous, panicked medical professionals. As the gathering storm turns a final corner, they see him from behind, almost peaceful, blissfully unaware of and unconcerned by the miracle that will soon be asked of him. He turns around, eyes fixed studiously upon the mob, and barks.
The Good Dogtor is in.
TO BE CONTINUED PROBABLY!