The next couple of hours felt like a blur, at least until the bright lights and sterile room of the hospital room brought Jin back to his senses. His hands tingled and fidgeted. He was unsure of what exactly happened, or why he passed out; something that had never been a common occurrence.

A doctor entered the room. He took Jin to get some tests done; x-rays, an MRI, and some blood work. After the work was done, Jin was returned to a room to await the results.

As he sat there, his head rushed with thoughts, "What's wrong with me? Could I really be at risk of some form of illness? After dodging all the bullets, and surviving all the things I've done, to have something so, ordinary, be what does me in is almost ironic."

After a short while, an elderly doctor entered the room. With his back at a slight hunch and his snow-white hair, he looked as though he already had one foot into retirement, and the other into a grave.

He let out a wet caught as he flipped through some paperwork. He then, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, "Mr. Shimada, the results of your tests came back negative, for the most part. You seem to be in good enough physical condition for your age, but perhaps mentally, you're in need of assistance."

Jin was a bit confused, "What are you saying doc?"

"We believe you might've passed out from vasovagal syncope. While not common, it isn't unheard of in your age. Like I said, physically, you are as wet as a whistle, but mentally or physiologically, your body is attacking itself. VS is often caused by stress, and external factors in your daily life that might be having a negative impact. Your body is unable to balance its fight or flight response as a result. Would you say you find yourself stressed at work or home?"

"I mean..." Jin said beginning to trail off, avoiding a direct answer.

"There is nothing we can prescribe you right now Mr. Shimada. But i would heavily suggest looking into some time off of work, or perhaps even therapy."

"I don't know..."

"Look, do what you'd like. Nobody can force these things on you. But those that have experienced VS once, are likely to experience it again.

Jin didn't like the idea of uncontrollably passing out during a job. That would be an even worse way to go out. Like a possum with a gun pointed to its cerebrum cortex.

"As for today, due to the drugs we had to give you, you'll need someone to drive you home. I'll leave you alone to contact some family to drive you home."

The doctor opened the door to exit the room, Jin hesitantly opened his mouth, "I don't have any family to contact..."

The doctor turned around briefly with a face that blended mild shock and pity, "If you have absolutely no one to contact, then we will need to keep you here until the drugs wear off."

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Jin looked down at the floor and the doctor exited the room. He reached for his phone and opened his contact list, which only included a couple of names. He first attempted to call Sebastian, to which it went to voicemail. A Saturday night like this, the man was probably out at a bar already, hyping himself up for an eventual nightclub bender.

Jin clicked on the only other name he knew he could potentially depend on. The ringing in his ear began to subside with the dialing of the phone.

About a half hour later, Jin exited the hospital. Allen was waiting for him in the drop off/pick up curbside area. He grinned from the driver seat of his teal, 1970's Volkswagen type 2 van. Jin approached and opened the passenger door. An assortment of soda cans, fast food wrappers, and empty milkshake cups waddled their way out.

"Oh gosh darn it, sorry about that," Allen said as Jin entered the vehicle. "As you can see, I wasn't expecting guests in my ride."

"Al... It's fine," Jin sighed momentarily. "Thank you for picking me up."

Allen shifted the manual stick shift into drive and drove out of the hospital parking lot.

"So, did they diagnose you with the big C?" asked Allen.

"What?"

"You know my grandpappy died of ass cancer."

"I... I don't think that's what that's called"

"Yep. Terrible thing. Had a tumor in his left cheek the size of a softball. Hurt like hell every time he had to take a seat. Especially on the toilet."

"Allen, I don't have cancer. Nothing like that. I just passed out from vasovagal syncope."

Allen gave a nod as though he understood what Jin was saying. Outside the van, the neon lights of the nightlife streets began to switch on with the turning of the sunset. He made a stop at a red light.

"I just don't understand Jin. Look at you, you're in peak shape. All you do is drink and smoke a little. No harm in that..." The light changed to green and Allen drove forward, "So what are you going to do before the surgery?"

"I don't need–"

"–We should go to Vegas! Two guys like us could raise a hell of a storm!" Allen interrupted.

Jin glanced over at Allen, who was giddy at the thought of a Vegas rage. His face was bright red in fantastical bliss, it damn near almost made Jin laugh. Allen gets into a turning lane and waits for oncoming traffic to clear.

"I think I just need to take some time off, or maybe go to therapy for my mental health." admitted Jin.

Allen's ears pricked up. He floundered in his seat to reach for his wallet. While distracted by his new task, he slammed onto the gas and forced his way into the turn through a small gap of traffic. Turning into a neighborhood, he handed Jin a business card.

"Take this."

Jin grabbed the card and looked it over, "Allen, you go to therapy?"

Allen looked almost embarrassed, "Yeah, with work and all. Really helps keep the demons at bay."

The van reaches a stop outside of Jin's office and apartment. Jin unbuckled his seatbelt and began to exit the vehicle. Before he closes the door, he turned back around to his friend, "Hey Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Guy like you. Why did you become a professional killer?"

Allen smiles and gives a half-truth, "It's what I'm good at." Jin returned the answer with a smirk and closed the door. Allen then frantically reached back over the passenger seat and rolls down the window with the manual crank. "We're going to beat this bro. You, are going to beat this."

"Sure, bud."

Allen readjusted his seat, put on his sunglasses that were tucked into the sun visor, and cranked up the radio; which was playing "Bitch From Da Souf" by Latto and Trina. The ancient tires of the Type 2 van screech as Allen does a burnout through the neighborhood. The van's rusted exhaust rang out like gunshots. Nearby apartment lights turn on from the noise and a dogs began barking as Jin entered his office for the night.