Chapter 2: The Paper Assault

Chapter 2: The Paper Assault

The satisfying crunch of metal under the fire engine's bumper had echoed in Alex’s mind for two days, a small, grim comfort through the rest of his grueling 48-hour shift. But that sound was a distant memory now, replaced by the sterile hum of fluorescent lights and the rustle of paper. The chaos of the street had been traded for the quiet, soul-crushing atmosphere of the EMS headquarters, a place where lives were reduced to incident numbers and actions were judged not by their outcomes, but by their potential for litigation.

Alex sat in a hard-backed chair that felt designed to promote discomfort, staring at the bland motivational poster on the wall opposite him. It showed a team of eagles soaring over a mountain peak with the caption: TEAMWORK. He felt very far from soaring.

Across the polished desk sat his supervisor, Division Chief Peterson, a man whose spine had been replaced by a policy manual years ago. Peterson’s face was a careful, neutral mask, but his fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on a file folder that was far too thick for a routine call. Next to him, looking even more uncomfortable in the low-budget office, was a woman in a sharp blazer from the city’s legal department. Her presence was the bureaucratic equivalent of calling in a trauma team.

“Alex,” Peterson began, sliding the folder across the desk. It landed with a soft, ominous thud. “This is the formal complaint from a Mr. Markus Henderson regarding the incident at 112 Oak Creek Lane.”

Alex didn’t reach for it. He’d already written his own report—a concise, factual account of events. He knew what had happened. “Patient extrication was delayed due to a blocked driveway. I requested assistance to clear the obstruction. Patient care was the priority.”

“The patient care aspect isn’t in question,” the lawyer interjected, her voice cool and precise. Her name was Ms. Davies. “The patient, a Mrs. Eleanor Gable, was successfully transported and is in stable condition at St. Michael’s. The issue is… the method.”

Peterson opened the folder. “Mr. Henderson alleges, and I quote, ‘a campaign of intimidation and willful destruction of private property perpetrated by city employees.’ He claims you showed ‘reckless disregard for civil liberties’ and engaged in a ‘conspiracy with the fire department to exact punitive damages outside the purview of the law.’” Peterson looked up from the page, his eyes weary. “He also notes, repeatedly, that he is a former attorney.”

“He’s a failed, disbarred attorney,” Alex corrected, his voice dangerously quiet. “He threatened to sue before we even touched his truck. He was using his supposed legal knowledge as a weapon to intimidate us into delaying patient care.”

“Be that as it may,” Ms. Davies said, leaning forward, “he’s filed for the full replacement value of a sixty-thousand-dollar vehicle. He’s filed for emotional distress. He’s filed a formal grievance against your certification, citing unprofessional conduct. He’s very… thorough.”

The paper assault. It was less visceral than a fistfight but infinitely more exhausting. Henderson couldn’t win on the street, so he’d retreated to the battlefield he understood: a war of attrition fought with affidavits and subpoenas. The system Alex had sworn to serve, the one he used as a tool to save lives, was now being meticulously turned against him.

“He left us no choice,” Alex said, the memory of Henderson’s smug face flashing in his mind. “He was informed of the medical necessity. He refused to comply. I made a judgment call based on the patient’s condition. A bariatric patient with a suspected hip fracture. Leaving her on the floor while we argued with him or waited twenty minutes for a police unit to write him a parking ticket was not an option. It constitutes patient abandonment.”

“Did you feel the patient’s life was in immediate danger?” Peterson asked, his eyes fixed on Alex. It was a question from a checklist, devoid of context.

The scar above Alex’s eyebrow tingled, a phantom itch from a wound long-healed. He saw a flash of a different scene: a crumpled sedan, a VIP