"Lucy, look, it's your Grandpa Bruto." Old Hammer's voice suddenly came from the back seat, pointing out the window.
Lucy turned her head. Through the car window, she saw medical personnel lifting an elderly man with white hair into an ambulance.
The elder's head hung limply at the edge of the stretcher, a breathing mask covering most of his face, revealing only his tightly closed eyes.
"Grandpa Bruto... he doesn't look too good." Lucy's voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
"Take out 'doesn't look', he's definitely not good, he might already be dead." Old Hammer didn't shy away from discussing 'life and death'.
Outside the car, the medical personnel were fully armed, wearing heavy protective suits, their faces completely hidden by masks, showing only a pair of cold eyes.
They moved swiftly and mechanically, like a group of emotionless robots completing a transport task, prioritizing efficiency.
