You are Cordially Invited…
Chapter 1: Restless
Being shot hurts.
Waking up from dying hurts even more so.
My memory was blurry. I felt like I had a hangover, and I could not think straight. I started to remember how I was dying of a terminal illness, and a 'mystic' had supposedly cured me of my ills. He didn't. He managed to stop the pain for a while, but not by much. It still lingered inside me. And then I remember taking a bullet that would have killed Quinn hadn't I jumped in front of it. After that, exertion and delirium and the pain from the wound took over, and then I just saw blackness.
I woke up in a white room. I was barely able to tell that I was awake. I felt like I was just waking up from some long overdue sleep, and any sense of feeling I had was weakly making itself known. I could not see anything, something I have experienced before and bitterly loathed. I barely smell the sterility of the place. At least my senses were returning, although I could not feel my own body. I could smell the disinfectant in the air. I concluded that I was in a hospital of some kind. My body started to pick itself up; I could feel the coolness in the air. This was a bad thing, because then I suddenly wanted to scream, the pain in my heart and my brain kicked in with a vengeance, but I couldn't. My body would not let me. Then my hearing started to return.
"He's awake."
"Finally. He must sleep like a bear."
"Remember who he is."
I tried to turn my head, but the paralysis hadn't left me yet. I felt a small prick in my forearm.
"I am not dead." I managed to slur the words out. It sounds ludicrous, but it was all I could say.
And the reply I got before I passed out was "Far from it."
I woke up again, but this time it did not feel as bad as before. In fact, it felt good. I was instantly awake, nothing trying to make me want to stay in bed for another hour or so. Then my instincts took over. My hand flew to my heart. I prodded there for a few seconds, not wanting, or daring to want to look there. And finally I did.
No bullet wound. Not even a scar.
Then my brain registered the fact that I was wearing a hospital gown. Strange how it might sound, it felt tailor-made.
I took a good look around. Human built hospital, very advanced from what I could tell. A hard bed that doctors seem to have great pleasure inflicting on their patients. No IV's around. One door. I would be leaving that for now. No obvious security cameras. There would still be some around however. Being shunted across parallel dimensions for three years had left me paranoid in my old age. And a mirror…
I walked up to it. And examined myself in detail. Still the wrinkles. The beard that I had not had a chance to properly maintain for what seemed like years. My hair had been cleaned thoroughly. I was worthy of presenting myself to the Queen of England, obviously without the hospital gown however. I thought I might even look a few years younger than I was. No scar tissue, no evidence at all that I had been shot. Incredible. I felt invigorated. That was the word. Now to find the others…
Maybe they had found a way of sliding us all off before the window, and I had just passed out from shock. That sounded like the most logical solution. I walked up to the door, and peered through the tiny window.
No one there.
I looked around again, to see if any of my belongings, or even a spare set of clothes were nearby. No such luck. I tried the doorknob. Unlocked. As unwilling as I would normally be to walking around a public building in just my nightwear, the nurses obviously were unaware I was awake. So I opened the door.
The corridor I stepped into was immaculate. A sunny yellow colour had been painted everywhere along the wall. Everything was neat and tidy, ordered. No doctors or nurses were rushing about saving lives. Then I heard a very familiar voice.
"Ah, you're finally awake."
Belonging to myself…
I was standing in front of my double. This one was wearing doctor's robes, over a fine suit and his hair was cut short, like mine from before. Other than that… Well, he was my double.
"Max Arturo, I presume?" He thrust his hand in front of me, which I gracefully accepted.
"Yes. And you are?"
"Maxwell Arturo." Ah. Slightly different birth-name.
"Actually, It is Maxamillian Arturo."
"Mother chose the name?"
"I really do not know."
"Ah well, at least there is a slight difference between us. And I take it you have a great many questions to ask me."
"I would like to start with if I could get some proper clothes actually…"