Billy wake in a hospital bed with no memory of how he got there.

How fucking cliché... the whole hospital-amnesia thing. If feel like whoever Mary Jane Watson played in that soap opera. At least I can remember it's cliché. That counts for something, right?

A nurse walked in with a charming smile. Any other boy from his school would probably consider her a "sight for sore eyes."

Oh. That's right. Kessler. Shit. That's probably why I'm here.

The nurse's nametag read, "Jane Foster." Jane sat down next to the bed and asked, "How are you doing? Can I get you anything?"

Billy didn't have the energy to do much more than shake his head.

"Alright, you sit tight. Dr. Doom will be in to see you in a second."

That got Billy's attention. "Dr. Doom?!"

A man with soft, shiny brown hair and a face to die for walked in, placing a medical chart on the table. "Yes, my name is really Dr. Doom. Victor Von Doom, actually."

His voice struck Billy as a bit too loud for the otherwise quiet ward.

"It's Latverian," continued Dr. Doom. "I've been told I'm descended from royalty. Who knows, I might be some kind of king if it weren't for..." His booming voice cracked. The room was eerily silent. Everyone learned about the atrocities the Latverians suffered at the hands of Zemo and Schmidt at the end of World War II by eighth grade. It wasn't a fun subject.

Jane changed the topic. "I'm told you tried to be quite the hero, Billy. Standing up for that kid must have been scary."

Doom grinned. "Take it from me; next time just let it go. You very nearly died from the pounding you took. If it weren't for Oscorp's new regeneration formula, you'd be in a cast for months. Luckily, you're expected to make a full recovery in a few days."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" asked Billy.

Jane said, "You can watch TV, but I wouldn't bother. The reception here is awful. The best you'll get is Stark's new reality show or that grouchy televangelist."

Billy frowned. Fucking great. He didn't care to see America's favorite billionaire's slow, televised descent into alcoholism, but the last thing he needed was Reverend William Stryker bitching about gays, immigration, religious minorities, or whatever happened to spring to mind.

"Got any newspapers?"


For the next two days Billy subsisted of back issues of The Daily Bugle. His family came to visit, but he was so groggy from painkillers that he didn't make good company. He quickly decided it wasn't worth it for them to waste their time on him when he was barely aware what was going on. So they went back to school or their clients while he stayed with his new best friend, editor J. Jonah Jameson Jr.

The stories fit the current atmosphere better than his almost painfully supportive family. He couldn't find a single optimistic headline, which suited his mood just fine.

"General Ross wanted for questioning regarded treatment of prisoners during Wakandan War."

"NYPD Captain Stacy reports no new leads as "Sin-Eater" killer claims 26th victim."

"Famed scientist pleads guilty to assaulting wife again."

"California teen runaways murdered by parents, police say."

"Renowned blind lawyer killed in suspected mob hit."

For longer than he could remember, something had felt wrong to Billy about the world. For some reason, he felt things were supposed to be different. Not necessarily better, but different. He used to think it was because of the bullying, that he had developed some kind of persecution complex, or whatever his mom called it. But sitting alone in at ward, reading those papers, Billy felt something was wrong on an almost cosmic level.

By afternoon on the second day Billy had gone stir-crazy. He didn't want to see his family, but he needed some form of human contact.

I don't give a fuck what Dr. Doom says, I need to get out of bed and stretch my legs or something.

Not caring that he was dressed in a hospital gown, Billy began exploring the hospital. The thing that interested him about hospitals was that nobody wanted to be there, but nobody wanted to be anywhere else at that particular moment. Everyone had a story.

He walked up the metal stairs in the east wing. The cold metal chilling his bare feet made him feel more alive than he had since he got here. He saw a young boy, about two years younger than he was, standing nonchalantly by a water fountain.

The boy had silky black hair, a green hoody, and was wearing a variety of slim golden bracelets and necklaces. His mouth was crooked upwards in the most mischievous grin he had ever seen. "Come over here for a second."

As he had nothing better to do, Billy walked in the grinning boy's direction. "By the way, watch your step."

Billy looked down too late. He felt something slimy mash beneath his left foot, ruining his traction and sending him flat on his ass. The boy giggled madly and ran down the hall. Billy couldn't muster the strength to get up, but was able to turn his head and see he had literally slipped in a banana peel.

Who actually leaves banana peels on the floor of a hospital? Better yet, what kind of idiot actually slips on one?

"You look like you could use a hand." said a warm voice from above. A long arm entered Billy's field of vision. He grabbed it and was pulled of the floor.

"Thanks. Looks like I fell for the oldest joke in the book." said Billy.

His rescuer laughed. Unlike the manic giggles from the grinning boy, this laugh was soothing, almost melodic. Billy looked at the boy who had pulled him up and his jaw almost dropped.

"I'm Teddy." said the tall, blonde, muscular boy. He had spiky, shiny hair that reached around the five piercings on each of his ears. He wore a soft black and purple sweater that practically hugged his body. He looked exactly like the type of person who had been beating Billy for years. He was afraid, at first. He had learned to fear people who looked like Teddy.

But the fear melted away the moment Billy glanced at his face. His doughy complexion and brilliant blue eyes radiated relaxing energy.

Billy realized that he had just spent a full minute staring at a complete stranger. "Uhh, yeah. Hi." Billy inhale and composed himself. "Sorry, painkillers. I probably seem like a weirdo, which I kind of am anyway. So yeah. I'm Billy."

Teddy laughed again. "Oh, that's great. How cheesy would it be to make a Bill and Ted joke, huh?"

Billy was a bit taken aback. He could count on one hand the people at his school that had seen that movie, and none of them looked like Teddy.

What's this guy's story?

"So, uh, what's your story?" asked Billy. Why am I having trouble breathing? Is this some kind of side effect? Just what the hell was in that Oscorp stuff?

Teddy's smile cracked for a split second. "I'm here with my mom. She has a chemo appointment."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry. That's got to be rough."

"It's a hospital. We don't come for the food and new magazines. I'll bet you're not here for spring break or anything."

"Yep, I got delivered here straight from school in an ambulance. Apparently. I was unconscious for most of it. You can't tell now, but I was really bruised and bloody."

Teddy put a hand on his shoulder. "It really cleared up. You have nicer skin than half the basketball team."

"Thanks. Though credit really goes to Dr. Connors and the other geniuses at Oscorp."

Billy returned the gesture and grasped Teddy's shoulder. It seemed like the polite thing to do. "My mom was actually considering looking into their stuff as an alternative treatment. Maybe she'll be the next Eddie Brock."

Billy couldn't help but notice the firm muscle in Teddy's shoulder. He had never really touched another guy like this before. The muscle was new, almost hypnotic sensation, much more malleable and fluid than he would have thought.

"I hope that means your mom won't go on tour across the country giving admittedly inspirational speeches about "Rebirth in Christ" or whatever that makes you want to gag just a little."

There was Teddy's laugh again. Billy could feel the other boy's whole body shake with mirth. "I hope not. I just saw him on Stryker's show in the waiting room. Talk about sappy."

Billy couldn't think of anything else to say, so he just paused and took in everything around him. Man, these painkillers sure have me out of it.

Teddy's muscles straightened as he looked up like he just remembered something. "I should go, man. My mom'll be done soon."

Before Bill had time to react, Teddy was jogging down the hall.


The first thing Billy did when he returned home was fire up his shiny Starktech laptop. The Ultron-5 was a birthday present from last year that he had sorely missed. There was so much to catch up on, so many new comics and TV episodes. Fortunately, he was mostly forgotten on social networking sites. Everybody seemed more interested in some girl who punched Mr. Summers, probably breaking his stupid shades. Also, her first name appeared to literally be America.

She and Victor should start a fucking club.

Out of sheer curiosity, he tried to see if Teddy had an account, but to no avail. Billy wasn't surprised; he hadn't even gotten his last name. But he felt strangely disappointed, and couldn't stop thinking about the strange, bulky, geeky boy he had met.

I'm probably just associating him with the painkillers, right? Mom mentioned something like that once. I think. Please don't let me have a crush on some random guy I met for five minutes who could probably throw me through a wall.

His train of thought died as his doorbell began buzzing frantically. With an irritated snarl, he stood up and went to answer it. He opened the door and saw that same grinning boy from the hospital.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem?"

The boy reached out a gloved hand. He replied, "At risk of sounding inane, I think a better question is, 'What's your problem?' This is a much trickier question."

The boy spoke with a heavy, cultured accent. It sounded distinctly European, possibly Norwegian or something.

"Tricky questions are my specialty. I may be able to help you with yours. But not right now."

The boy grabbed Billy's hand by the palm. He felt the familiar shock of a cheap joy buzzer, something Billy hadn't felt since middle school. The boy stuck out his tongue and ran off in the night, cackling with glee.

Billy returned to his room lost in thought. Despite his annoyance, he couldn't help but wonder about the boy. Something definitely felt strange about his life, though he couldn't put his finger on it. It had been particularly strong throughout his stay at the hospital.

I wonder what set me off so much at the hospital. It all felt... wrong or something.

Billy recounted his memories at the hospital and remembered Teddy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of anything that felt wrong about Teddy.

That scared him a little, and he didn't know why.

To Be Continued