As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"

"Who are you, Lord?" Saul asked.

"I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting," he replied. "Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do."

The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. For three days he was blind, and did not eat or drink anything.

Acts 9, Verses 3-9

January 25th, 2018

Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul the Apostle

4:01 PM

Kenji Oyama did not like to spend money. Fūjin Clinic, his baby, was the top of the line as far as clandestine medical operations in Manhattan go, but that reputation certainly wasn't due to its looks. Many of the lights gloomily dangling from moldy ceiling tiles were in their flickering death throes or had gone out completely, the floor hadn't been washed since the building's long gone history as a legitimate establishment, and there was no heating.

As he sat shivering against the cold metal of his bare hospital bed, ex-FBI agent and convicted spree killer Benjamin Poindexter took little comfort in knowing that literally every expense had been spared for him. There was an armed guard at the door, but Oyama's boss had provided the protection free of charge.

Dex wasn't being held against his will at Fūjin Clinic, but the people that had given him the chance to seek treatment here had quickly identified him as extremely mentally unstable. Dex figured that the guard was more of a display of power than a symptom of a legitimate fear that he would snap, however. With just the scalpel left at his bedside he would be able to overpower the guard, and with the surgeries Oyama had performed..

A voice echoed into Dex's room from down the hall and, not unlike a speeding motorcycle passing you on the interstate, rose in volume until it was roaring just outside the door.

"Here's the man of the hour! How've you been, Ben? I see you're still enjoying the room I rented for you. What'd they give ya for dinner last night, the steak or the lobster? Or did they even make ya choose?" The visitor jested at a mile a minute, strutting across the dirty tiles in a pristine black suit. He looked as if he had stepped right out of a men's fashion magazine, with golden-blond hair and a perfect, tanned white complexion.

"Rice." Dex responded bluntly.

"What's been the matter with you, Ben? A couple of months ago you were shooting the shit with me for hours! I thought we really got along, don't tell me that was just your mouth pickin' up for the slack in your legs." The man smiled, his white teeth seeming to almost shine like a fragment of heaven that had fallen into the shithole that was Fūjin Clinic. Dex remained silent for a moment, but opened his mouth before the visitor could find an excuse to beat him to it.

"If my body can do the talking now," he started, glaring at his visitor, "I would prefer to let it."

"Mister Quartermain, how are you?" Another man asked as he entered the room. Like the visitor he wore a suit and was well-groomed, but outwardly the similarities stopped there. This man was not particularly charming, and spoke slowly and deliberately to make sure the Americans could process his thick Japanese accent.

"Well I'm still breathing, so it can't be that bad." Quartermain joked, and the Japanese man responded with an awkward sort of canned laughter that he took in stride. "Really though, I think we're on the verge of something revolutionary with Ben here. It's a shame he seems to have lost his passion about it though. Are you sure about these conditions? I know he's a tough son of a bitch, and I saw worse conditions at Ranger school, but are you sure he isn't sick?"

"If the serum works, he cannot get sick. Mister Oyama tells me you have a gift for our subject, perhaps that will raise his spirits?"

"See Asano, you don't have any time for bullshit, I appreciate that." Quartermain remarked. "I see why we had to drop the bomb on you guys, you're a bunch of ruthless motherfuckers. Hopefully when Manhattan II is complete, civilians will never get wrapped up in this stuff again."

"You and the subject. Follow me." Asano said, turning on his heel and walking out of the room without delay. Quartermain looked to Dex with a nonplussed, perhaps sympathetic glance that gave way to a stupid smile.

"You're gonna love this." He said, and followed Mr. Asano into the dingy hallway. Dex fell in line behind them, careful not to let his bare feet slip on the grimy floors. He wore nothing but a thin hospital gown.

Asano briskly led the two into a part of Fūjin Clinic that Dex had never seen before. It was a small auditorium, but almost all of the seats had been removed. Oyama stood on the little stage, examining the contents of an unmarked luggage chest.

Dex followed Asano and Quartermain up to the chest. Inside was a suit of body armor, not unlike the Daredevil suit he had worn (and been paralyzed in) a little under two months prior. This suit was all black though. Its eyes weren't covered and, most peculiarly, it carried the logo of his old rec-league baseball team on the forehead. Two concentric white circles.

"A bullseye." Quartermain pointed at the symbol as Dex held the helmet in front of himself. "We figured it was fitting, because how great of a shot you are. You could also think of it as a sort of challenge to your opponents, though this helmet might actually protect you from a headshot. Would depend on the caliber. Not like you'd let that happen anyways, isn't that right Ben?"

"How long until I start?"

"We can't say yet, but the enhancement is far from complete. It would be best not to get your hopes up." Oyama stated, looking to Quartermain as he spoke. The helmet Dex held started to shake as his hands became unsteady.

"Don't worry Ben, we'll get you on the field soon enough. Just be patient and your purpose can be realized." Quartermain assured him, speaking gently all of a sudden. He set a hand on Dex's shoulder, and Dex's eyes snapped to meet Quartermain's like a frightened animal.

"My purpose is to be out there, putting people down." He hissed. Quartermain frowned.

"We are done here. Return to your room." Asano stared Dex down until the 'subject' relented, tossing the helmet back into the chest and hopping down from the stage without a word.