Russell

The bald, hulking men in red sports uniforms haul a bleeding, limp arm across a locker room bench while one kneels to press a frozen ice pack against the torn flesh, no hesitation, just brutal efficiency. Another grips the injured limb, steadying it as the rest watch, their own muscles flexing under the weight of the task, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and sweat. The medical kit sits open, tools scattered as they work, every movement precise, every second counted.