The Project 15 [BL]

-Chase Meredith:

It was a busy shift today.

A massive accident on the highway sent waves of injured drivers and passengers into the ER. The chaos hasn't stopped for the past six hours, and none of us have had a moment to breathe.

I'm Chase Meredith, twenty-seven years old, and one of the many doctors caught up in this storm. My light brown hair—thick, always a mess—has been shoved under a blue surgical cap all day. I'm 5'11", broad-shouldered, long-legged, and dressed in my usual white coat over black pants. Honestly, I look like every other overworked doctor here right now.

I've wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. It's not just a job for me—it's a calling. I'm ambitious, maybe overly so, but I've always loved pushing myself in this field.

There's always something new to learn, something new to master, and I take every opportunity I get. That's why I'm in the ER today, even though it's not my usual department.

I'm a neurologist, specializing in the brain and nervous system. I've always found the human brain mesmerizing—beautifully complex in ways that still surprise me. It's why I chose this path. To me, the brain is the ultimate puzzle, and I've never been able to resist a challenge.

Neurologists diagnose, treat, and manage disorders of the brain, spinal cord, and nervous system. We understand the nervous system's anatomy, functions, and conditions affecting it.

I'm still training to become a neurosurgeon, which is my end goal, but for now, I'm doing what I can to help wherever I'm needed.

Today, that meant reattaching a patient's severed finger. I let out a satisfied sigh as I finished the procedure, stepped out of the operating room, and left the nurses to get the patient settled.

The next stop was the private cafeteria. I needed coffee—desperately. As I walked in, I spotted Noah Hansley, one of my closest friends and a fellow doctor.

"Chase, I heard the ER's been crazy today," he said, glancing up from his tablet.

"Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it," I muttered, collapsing into the chair next to him. Exhausted, I took a long sip of my bitter coffee. "There was a huge pile-up on the highway."

Noah just hummed in acknowledgment, his attention already back on whatever he was working on. That's the thing about Noah—he doesn't waste energy on small talk when you're clearly running on fumes.

After a few moments of silence, I couldn't help myself. "Have they announced who got chosen for the SSL yet?" I asked.

Noah looked up briefly, shaking his head. "Not yet."

The SSL—Swift Science Laboratory. The dream. One of the largest, most prestigious labs in California. Every single doctor in this hospital applied for a spot this year.

But for me, it's more than just a dream. It's an obsession. My dad used to tell me stories about the lab when I was a kid—how it was at the forefront of every major discovery, how it pushed the boundaries of science. Those stories stuck with me and shaped me.

I've applied twice before and didn't make the cut either time. This year is my last chance. Doctors can only apply to the SSL three times in three consecutive years before they're forced to wait another nine years for the application window to reopen.

Nine years. I can't wait that long.

The rumors about the SSL only add to its mystique. Once you go in, you don't come out. People who are selected dedicate their lives to the lab. They never leave—at least, not alive. When their time is done on this earth, they leave the lab as ashes.

I've spent the last three years chasing this, thinking about it every single day. If I don't get in this year… I don't even want to think about that possibility.

Later, the rest of our group joined Noah and me in the cafeteria. Everyone looked as drained as I felt after their shifts finally ended.

-

By the time I got home, I barely managed to drag myself through my night routine before collapsing into bed. I didn't even bother setting an alarm—I needed the rest.

But at seven in the morning, my phone started ringing.

Groggy, I grabbed it from the nightstand, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the caller. Mia Watson. One of my closest friends and a fellow doctor—she's a dermatologist.

"Chase," she said, her voice hurried. "The list is out."