Isaac sighed, pulling his shotgun up into one arm and flipping several of the switches on the stock. The feed in his eye shut down and sent another wave of test patterns across his vision as it did so, making him grimace again as he tossed the shotgun carefully into the room behind him. He didn't hear it hit anything apparently delicate, nor did the test patterns return to show it was reactivated, so Isaac quickly reached back into his jacket and made the pistol as safe as he could in the limited time he had before crazed EMTs with guns shot him full of holes for being an "obstacle", and tossed it in with the shotgun. He hoped this would be enough to keep himself relatively bullet free but a certain part of Isaac knew that he'd be walking a fine line between concerned onlooker and suspicious ganger.
As the Trauma Team kicked the door in an attempt to open it, Isaac reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Inside was a few crumpled bills, a business card for the man that apparently ran a few of the carts Isaac frequented, half a stick of gum, and a white card with a pair of intersecting T's embossed on each side. He pulled out the card and tossed it towards the woman on the floor with one hand while returning the wallet to his pocket with the other. "That ain't the police, that's Trauma Team. They wouldn't be here if I was just gonna kill you, alright? Just do me a favor and stay calm; they're gonna ask you a lot of questions about who you are and if that card belongs to you. You need to answer yes to every question they ask about your identity, okay? That's gonna be the only way we can get you fixed up, 'cause I know fuck-all about medicine and I'd honestly just make your problem even worse. Do you understand me? We don't have a lot of time until-" Isaac said calmly before the door being blown open interrupted him.
Working quickly, the members of Trauma Team rushed into the apartment with guns raised. Ostensibly, they had the guns to protect the patients from being injured further by other people. Realistically, they used the guns to boost their already impressive customer base by way of just shooting whatever bystanders happened to look a little sketchy and then charging them to stop them from dying. Isaac had been at the business end of a few bullet giveaways when he ran with Aunty's boys before he learned to listen for the sirens they used and sprint as hard as possible in the opposite direction, but unfortunately that wasn't an option here. His last action before throwing his hands up in the air was to take his phone out of his pocket and tap a few buttons, one of which muted the sound coming out of the speakers. He had the phone send the (unfortunately super inaccurate) live transcription of whatever Cat said to a small feed in his eye and slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, still slightly convinced he wouldn't get out of the apartment un-shot.