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Double-Blind CH113
🕑 Added 2022-06-22 19:18:13 +0000 UTCMy body shook violently. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. No matter how hard I tried, the muscles in my legs and arms alternating tightening and releasing. It was like being a prisoner in my mind.
“He’s having a seizure.” Kinsley’s voice, commanding now, devoid of the emotion from moments before.
“Put this in his mouth.”
“No. That’ll just fuck up his jaw” Kinsley shouted. “Help me cushion his head—Where’s the god-damn healer?”
“Here,” A new voice, feminine with a middle-eastern accent. Something grabbed my wrist. “Might as well be a hummingbird. Heart-rate is through the roof. It shouldn’t be that high.”
My vision was pinprick tight. I caught a glimpse of Sara, one of many faces surveying the scene, clearly wanting to help but not sure how.
<Matt: Vindictive.>
Sara’s eyes widened. She pushed her way up through the crowd and bent down. “He’s running a feat that keeps him conscious, regardless of injury.”
“What?” The healer squawked. “Of all the stupid—Never mind. Nothing surprises me anymore. Can he be sedated?”
Sara hesitated. “I think so.”
“Definitive answers please.”
A moment’s pause. “Yes.”
“Then we better hope this works. Or our friend here may have serious complications.”
There was an inexpressible warmth that soaked through the back of my skull, trailing down my neck and spine. Then, nothing.
/////
I woke slowly, feeling as if I’d slept for a thousand years. When I reached up to rub my face, my hand stopped, obstructed. I blinked at it, spotting a clear, taped-down tube funneling liquid at the base of my wrist.
IV.
There it was, the bag of saline and whatever else, next to an oddly high-tech looking heart monitor. Along with panic, an almost nostalgic feeling swept over me. Waking up in a hospital bed, with no clue where I was or what had happened in the interim. All too similar to how this started. Which put me at something of an advantage. I’d done this before.
I switched my title to <Born Nihilist> to ward off the panic, reached across my body with my other hand and began to peel the tape off.
“No you don’t.” Ellison put a hand protectively over the tape, then turned to the side. “Heads up, he’s at it again. Turn the tv off.”
An uncharacteristic surge of anger came over me. Remembering how there was a high chance Ellison was a User, yet he’d practically abandoned our region, I pulled my arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Matthias.” My mother admonished, her voice shocked.
Ellison blinked, looking from me, to the others in the room. “Excuse me for caring.”
I snorted.
“Don’t take it personally,” Kinsley stepped between the hospital bed and Ellison, placing herself between us. “Head injury, remember?”
<Kinsley: I understand why you’re angry, but back off. Chill before you tip our hand.>
She was right. I took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the anger go.
Ellison’s hand curled into a fist, then relaxed. An air of false placidity came over him. “Whatever. I’ll get the doc.”
“How long was I out? And how are we paying for this?” I looked around, confused, as my vision returned. The curtain on the far end was drawn, but from lighting it looked to be midday, maybe late afternoon. And this was anything but a standard hospital room. It looked more like a spacious, luxurious bedroom that someone had converted to home care. There were nature photos on the walls, a dark-wooded dusty night stand that had been pushed to the corner, and a placard with the words “Every Day is a Blessing,” that hung above the door. Below, there were deep grooves in the carpet, probably left behind by a bed-frame.
My mother had been sleeping on a recliner in the corner and was blearily rising to her feet. There were several mounds of blankets and pillows scattered around the room, one of which held Iris, still sleeping soundly.
Kinsley eyed me suspiciously. “If I explain, promise you’ll stay in bed?”
“If you don’t explain, I definitely won’t.”
“God you’re unbearable.” Kinsley climbed to the top of a stool that looked more at home at someone’s bar. “Fine. It’s been around eighteen hours. We’re still in Region 14. And you’re not paying for anything of this, so relax. A few things have happened, some we should talk about now, some later.”
“Whose house is this? It looks… expensive.”
“Apartment,” Kinsley’s eyes slid to the side. “Sort of. And its, uh—“
There was a screech of metal, unfathomably loud. I nearly leapt to my feet, only prevented by Mom and Kinsley holding me down. I struggled, trying to get free, trying to get out of the way of whatever was making that noise. The door opened, revealing a dark-skinned woman in a doctor’s coat. She was brimming with barely contained irritation, heavy bags under her eyes.
“And why, exactly, Mr. Matthias, are you trying to get out of bed again?”
Feeling foolish, I stopped struggling. My mind tracked back to what had just happened. The noise that startled me. Had that been nothing more than the door opening? It sounded so much more thunderous than that.
“He’s more lucid, this time. I think he’s just… acclimating.”
“We’re all acclimating.” The doctor took a seat on the stool at my side and flipped open a folder, flipping through it. “Matthias, my name is Doctor Ansari. How’s your recall of the last day?”
“Not… great.” I couldn’t remember anything.
“No memory of moving you here from the hospital?”
“None.” I confirmed.
Her eyebrow lowered. “Any recollection of telling me to go fuck myself? Or your extensive color commentary on my recent divorce?” Ansari asked. She looked almost completely unfazed, but there was an edge to the words that told me she wasn’t over it.
That didn’t sound like me, until I realized I’d fallen unconscious with <Cruel Lens> still in effect. I cringed. “Nothing.”
“I’m not being spiteful.” Ansari tapped a pen against paper. “This is important. You were very on target with your… insights. Made the sort of observations you’d generally need to be lucid for.”
At that reminder, I reached down towards my chest. There was no wound, only a long scar where the seraphic damage had torn through me.
“Unless there’s something else at play, we might want to order an additional MRI.”
Unsure of how much information to reveal, I settled for as little as possible. “I have… a thing.”
Ansari’s eyebrow quirked. “A system thing?”
“Yes.”
“Users.”
“What?” My mother asked.
“Nothing.” Ansari snapped her folder closed and bent forward, intensity in her dark eyes. “I’ve done everything I can for you. You were in bad shape. Enough that you’d probably spend half a year in physical therapy in the old world. Even then, you wouldn’t have been the same.”
“It was that bad?” I was almost afraid to ask. “I took more than a few healing potions.”
Ansari blew air through her mouth. “You and everyone else. They can save a life, but they only carry a person so far. If the adventurer’s guild hadn’t gilded your parachute, you’d probably still spend months recovering. It took the absolute extent of my abilities to shorten that to a month minimum.”
“That’s not happening.” I said immediately. A month was far too long. Ansari and Kinsley shared a look.
“Which is what she said you’d say.” Ansari sighed. “Fine. I have an alternative, but it’s not proven, and it comes with conditions. No fighting, no running, no walking. You need bed rest whenever possible, and if you are up and about, it’ll be in a wheelchair.
“Is that… really necessary?” My mother asked through glistening eyes.
Ansari turned on her, her expression angry. “Yes. His body has been through hell. There was layer after layer of barely healed injuries that were resistant to my methods. And that’s just from the event. There were a half-dozen fractures from old injuries that either went untreated, or were tended by an idiot.”
Mom fell silent, jaw set tightly as she studied her feet.
“You fixed those too?” Kinsley asked, trying to defuse the sudden tension.
“Of course I did. But my efforts will go to waste if he goes running off.” Ansari opened a briefcase and withdrew two tall black elixirs. “Full transparency—and to be honest, I’m still not used to saying this—but these are from a witch. Someone I know and trust. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough, but I’ve seen her work. It’s solid.” Ansari suddenly swiveled, giving me a sidelong look. “Go ahead. Get it out. I’m sure you’ve already figured it out and have an obvious crack to make about my ex being a witch?”
“None whatsoever,” I said, making a mental note to try to make up for whatever I’d said to the doctor to get under her skin so badly. “Other than the fact that I’m grateful for the coincidence.”
She wrinkled her nose, as if she found even that offensive. “The side effects of consuming a full flask are nothing to sneeze at. Severe night terrors and nausea. Drink as much of a single flask as you can manage, limiting yourself to one a day. Any more and the toxicity will kill you. Once you’re through both of them, you should be looking at a full recovery. That could technically be two days from now, but I’d highly advise spreading them out over a week. Not that you’ll listen.”
Ansari went on for a while, emphasizing the importance of following her instructions, and brutally outlining the consequences of what would happen if I didn’t listen. When she spent an overly long time describing the latter, Mom excused herself, saying something about checking on Ellison, looking more than a little unsettled.
Finally, Ansari packed up her bag and left, leaving only me and Kinsley in the room. I braced myself when she shut the door, only feeling marginally better when it shut at a normal volume.
“Well. Let’s get some light in here.” Kinsley crossed the room, throwing open a window. It extended from the ceiling all the way to the floor. We were insanely high up, with an expansive view of the city beyond. I leaned forward, trying to get a better look at a series of objects, darting around the sky. My mouth dropped open.
“Are those… people?”
“Mhm. Everything’s changing.” Kinsley shifted from side to side. For the first time, I noticed how tired she looked. Like she hadn’t slept a minute since I’d been out. “Almost all the regions have benefited from the transposition in some way. Means of production, portals opening up, rare materials. And a few sections that that got something highly specific but useful. Most of the flying folks are using a charm from Region 7, for example. No idea how many they have, if they make it or hold a specific number, but we’re in talks. Speaking of which, Adventurer’s Guild folks are going to come by to help go over what you want to do with the region.”
That’s right. The proctor had mentioned that even the unfortified regions had to pick something.
“What are our options?” I asked.
“No clue,” Kinsley said. “You’re the only one that can see it.
That’s right. The system had given ownership of the region to me. Whatever the hell that meant.
I shook my head. “Jesus. I’m having a hard time processing here.” There were a half-dozen things I needed to do, including telling Kinsley that her father was alive. Even if it was a distraction, she’d never forgive me if I kept it to myself, and she found out later. “Kinsley, I owe you an explanation. And there’s something else you should know.”
“In a minute.” Kinsley withdrew a handful of items from her inventory and handed them to me, first returning my weapons, then my mask. I held it up, studying the jagged lines.
“You kept my things safe?”
“Took them off your body while you were in the ambulance. Figured if it was important enough for you to sell it to me, you probably wouldn’t want some nosy person stumbling over it.” She glanced over, suddenly uncertain. “Was that okay?”
I fought the urge to put it back on, slowly replacing it in my inventory. “Seeing as how you most likely saved my ass, yes, I’d say it’s okay.”
“Now,” Kinsley clapped her hands together. I suppressed a jump. She opened the closet and withdrew a wheelchair. Iris stirred from the movement, then fell back to sleep, turning on her side. “Before we get into the heavy stuff, let’s have some fun. It’s time for a tour of the penthouse.”
I smiled. I’d been itching to get out of bed. It was like she’d read my mind. “You still haven’t told me. Who’s putting me up?”
Kinsley flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s because no one is. It’s yours.”
“Wait. What?”
Comments
Lon
Ohh, Matt is now rich boy? With expensive house and all. That is cool.
Myrrdin
Does he still have that throwing knife of his, or did he lose it when dealing with the three users?
