Pratt dons his mask on the fly and follows the noises into the OR, where Luka and Susan have arrived with Romano. Chen rounds the corner into the room and stops short with a gasp when she sees her boss, blood coating his face in crusting crimson streaks. Luka demands two liters of O-negative blood, but Pratt sputters that the blood bank is closed. Luka levels him with a firm look. “Open it,” he says. “Chen, I need ice. Lots of it.” He hands her Arm of Darkness and she gapes at it, unsure if she should freeze it, scratch her back with it, or bend down all but the middle finger and flip Pratt a disembodied bird.

Upstairs, Susan calls out to Marty, but he’s unconscious and can’t respond. “Levophen, levophen,” Susan repeats to herself, trying to remain calm as she roots through all their bags to find something resembling the drug she needs. Once she stumbles on some, she realizes she’s missing a bag for the IV and groans heavily. Grabbing a duffel, Susan shouts, “I’ll be right back,” runs to the stairwell, and tosses the bag on the ground so that it’ll prop the door open. It almost doesn’t work. She powers downstairs, throws supplies all over the floor until she locates the bag, and takes off upstairs at a speedy clip. Marty’s still out cold and his machine is bleeping a dangerous tune. “Son of a bitch,” she curses, panting. It’s too late for levophen, so she throws off his blanket and tries to shock his heart with the cardioverter. “Come on!” she shouts, frustrated. The elevator opens, and she stares into it as if she’s just seen something in there.