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Chapter 1.1.6 — Waking Up
🕑 Added 2023-03-10 18:40:21 +0000 UTCThe first thing Emmett heard was beeping. Steady and quiet.
He woke up to bright lights and in a white room. He was propped up in a bed…
His head swam. Was he alive? How?
The last thing he remembered was lying on the street, unable to get up.
And a truck flying through the air at him.
Emmett tried to sit up and look around, and immediately winced. Pain shot through his right shoulder, down his back, and made his left leg spasm.
He immediately slumped back down in the hospital bed.
His entire goddamn body hurt. Muscles and bones Emmett didn’t know he had throbbed like they were alive—like his whole body was on the verge of cramping.
Maybe that’s what having a seizure felt like…
Emmett wanted to call out, but just sucking in a deep breath sent stabbing pain through his chest.
So he laid there, focusing on breathing steadily, and finally the pain subsided enough for him to open his eyes and tilt his head.
The first thing Emmett realized was that he was not in a hospital room.
Well, he guessed it was, but nothing like any hospital he’d ever seen.
There were empty glass tanks along the wall. Tubes of bubbling liquid stretched across the wall, and cords hung from the ceiling. Behind all that, the walls and ceiling were all bright white.
Across the room, a seam split on the wall, revealing a hidden doorway. It was completely silent, and Emmett only noticed because there was complete darkness beyond.
A person stepped into the room, wearing a bright white containment suit. The glass visor covering their face was utterly black.
Emmett winced and shrank further into his bed.
“What… What happened?” he muttered. “Have I been isekai’d?” He felt utterly delirious as the question tumbled out.
But the person in the containment suit stopped in front of the bed.
“You keep saying it, but I don’t know what that means.”
Even though the voice was muffled by the suit, Emmett could tell that it was a man’s voice… and it was a long moment before he recognized it.
“Dr. Venture?”
“Yes.”
Emmett sighed, which hurt, and tried to relax but couldn’t.
“This… This isn’t a hospital?”
“No. You’re in the lab.”
“Why? Why am I—”
Emmett looked down at himself. The blanket had fallen away from his chest, and he pulled it further down now.
Instead of a hospital gown, his body was covered in what looked like a thin plastic bag. Beneath the clear shrink-wrap, his skin was an abstract mix of bright red, dark red, and purple.
Everything ached except his right arm. Everything was wrapped in plastic except his right arm. The memory of being facedown on the street came back to him—he vividly remembered not feeling his arm then either.
Emmett’s right arm laid beside him on the bed, but it wasn’t his arm. It was naked metal, the frame and pistons laid bare. Blood dripped through the cords of gray faux muscle; more was caked in the threads—
His blood.
Emmett’s head swam, and he laid back on the bed.
And promptly passed out.
~
Emmett was in and out of consciousness several times, never awake for more than a minute.
When he finally did wake up, Dr. Venture and Clara were waiting for him. They both wore white containment suits, but had taken off their helmets.
“Welcome back,” Venture said.
Both of them looked like shit—red eyes and bags under them—like they’d been crying or pulled an all-nighter. Clara managed a small smile.
“How long was I out?”
“Three days,” Venture replied.
Clara added, “It’s four o’clock. Saturday morning.”
The bed was propped up at a forty-five degree angle, and Emmett tried to push himself further up. It was easy. And painless.
Emmett paused and slowly looked down at himself.
His body wasn’t covered in a plastic bag anymore. Emmett tugged at the hospital gown that he was now wearing and saw skin beneath—his chest and arms were his normal tan. He looked normal…
His right arm looked normal. It wasn’t metal.
Emmett lifted his right arm up to look at it closer—looking for scars or discoloration or any evidence of the gruesome sight from the last time he woke up. Nothing looked amiss.
It wasn’t until he poked and prodded it with his other hand that he felt the silicone texture and odd shapes beneath the skin.
“It will take some getting used to,” Dr. Venture said, his voice breaking Emmett out of his trance.
“What did you do to me?” The question came out half-astonishment, half-accusation.
“What do you remember?” Venture asked.
Emmett recounted being on the bus during a battle between heroes. The bus was hit, and he was thrown from it. How he laid in the street, unable to move.
As he told them, he realized just how out of it he’d been. It felt so distant. Like a bad dream, or like it had happened to someone else and Emmett had just been watching.
“You almost died,” Clara said. “We saved you.”
“Thanks,” Emmett said earnestly. “I just don’t understand how. How did you even know? …Were you there?”
“Not exactly…” Clara said. She looked to her dad, as if unsure of what to say—or what she could say.
Without missing a beat, Venture replied plainly, “I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”
“...What? Why?”
“Our lab deals with some highly sensitive research. We can’t allow anyone to leak data or materials.”
“So you were spying on me?”
Clara interrupted, “No. It’s not like that.”
Venture sighed. “It’s passive monitoring for keywords. No one is spying on you.”
Emmett scoffed. “Okay. So if you weren’t there… How did you save me?” He held up his hand, then gestured to his body. “How did you do this? Any of this?”
Venture said, “We have Fast-Response Drones hidden throughout the city. When there were reports of a battle so close to your location, the closest three were automatically dispatched. They stabilized you and brought you to the lab.
“Then we rebuilt you with Gnosis’s research and our tech. Your arm was unfortunate, but it had to be amputated.”
Emmett stared at his right arm again, imagining the metal workings beneath—
“Oh shit. It’s been three days!” Emmett tried to sit up. “I have to go, or call, or—”
Dr. Venture grabbed his shoulders to stop him, and a flash of surprise and strain crossed his face. “Not yet.”
“You don’t understand! My folks, they know what bus I ride. If they saw anything on the news—”
“We kept an eye on your phone,” Venture said, still visibly keeping him from standing. “Your mom thinks you’re home sick. Nothing serious, but enough to keep you in your apartment. Don’t forget to tell her which Sunday you're free for dinner.”
Emmett relaxed a little and nodded.
“Your roommate, Lock, texted too,” Venture said, sighing.
Clara added, “We said you were at a girl’s place. I… I think he bought it.” She smiled awkwardly.
Meanwhile, Venture stared at Emmett with his usually deadpan seriousness, and Emmett felt his apprehension growing like the bottom was dropping out from his stomach.
Venture said, “Lock asked if it was Clara.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “Obviously, we told him no… but you’ll have to make something up when you see him next.”
Emmett swallowed dryly. In comparison, death might not have been so bad.
~
At the request of Dr. Venture and Clara, Emmett slept through the rest of the morning. He eventually relented, if only because he still felt a deep soreness that felt like it was in his bones and because they looked like they needed the rest as much as he did.
It was noon on Saturday by the time Clara and her father came back to visit.
Emmett was glad because he hadn’t liked where his mind had gone for the past hour. He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened on the street… and what didn’t happen.
“Did… Did anyone else from the bus make it?” Emmett asked.
He hadn’t known many—any—of them by name, but he remembered their faces. Many of them had been riding the same bus for years. People he’d seen day after day but never talked to.
Dr. Venture was across the room, fiddling with a screen. But now he paused and turned toward Emmett.
“When paramedics respond to an emergency, they aren’t told what happens to their patients after they get to the hospital. They do their job, do what they can, and that’s it.”
“But that’s patient confidentiality, isn’t it?” Emmett responded. “That’s not the same.”
“It’s for the patient, yes, but it’s for the paramedic, too.”
“Please. I need to know.”
“Some of them survived. Some didn’t. Twenty-nine people were killed. Three times that were injured. I haven’t cross-checked the list of reported casualties with passengers on the bus…”
Emmett was listening, but again, he felt far away.
Venture had trailed off and paused before continuing. “The attack will be all over the news for the next few days. I suggest you avoid it.”
“Can I have a minute?” Emmett asked.
Dr. Venture nodded and turned off the monitor he was working on before leaving. The door hissed shut behind him.
Clara looked from Emmett to the door before walking over to him. “Are you alright?”
Emmett shook his head, afraid of what might tumble out of his mouth if he spoke. He looked at his right hand, remembering how it felt—didn’t feel—on the street and when he’d first woken up.
He’d never felt so powerless.
Silence dragged on before Emmett finally said, “All my life, I dreamed of being a superhero, but… When the time came, I froze. I just sat there.”
Emmett felt ashamed of himself, like he’d failed the test he’d been waiting for all his life. All he wanted to do was curl up under the blanket and hide. He grit his teeth, choking back tears.
Then he remembered Clara was still in the room with him and he felt even worse—even smaller.
Clara put a hand on his. The glove of her containment suit crinkled softly. “They say there’s people that fight and people that run from bad situations… but there’s also freezing. It happens. Everyone feels fear, and it takes training to keep your body from doing those three things. Paramedics train. Nurses train. Police, too. Even capes and masks train. Even they feel fear.”
Emmett was nodding along, listening, and fighting that feeling of slipping far away again. Trying to stay there and fighting that feeling of being distant.
He almost missed what she said.
Emmett turned suddenly, scoffing. “What do you mean superheroes have to train? Like you would know…”
But Clara just smiled awkwardly. “There's something we have to tell you.”
~ ~ ~
