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The celebration had gone by in a flash, the last thing Mirage remembering only being dragged through flashing cameras and slapping away boom mics in a pained stupor, mumbling what he could about being the champion of the death games. The next thing he opened his eyes to was the bright white of a hospital bed.
“Mr. Witt, I see you are awake. All of your vitals have been stable for a few hours now, and it looks like you are finishing up what’s left of that IV.” The doctor beside him wrote on a clipboard as he spoke, before finally pulling out the needle in his arm. “How about you go ahead and try to move, we can get you about home by the end of the afternoon. I believe you have some business with the suits outside, what with your recent show of sportsmanship.”
Mirage squinted and sat up, looking down at himself. There wasn’t a scratch on him, but also no claws, shell, or the most important part, his bosom.
“Aw man, I was actually getting used to those,” he gave a small sigh of disappointment as he grabbed at his pectorals.
“I am sure we could help out with that if you really feel the need. I am sure can afford the procedure.” The doctor peered over his glasses, waiting to scribble down something else on his clipboard.
“Actually, I think I am good. Gonna just head out here.” Mirage awkwardly stood up from the bed and stretched.
“Oh, please, sign here before going anywhere. Liabilities and whatnot.” The doctor held out the mysterious clipboard he had been writing on. Mirage took it and picked up the pen along with it, staring at the literal scribbled writing. Whether it was him recovering from his wounds or minor dyslexia he struggled with, not a word could be made out of it.
“Uh, yeah sure, “ one signature later and the doctor quickly ushered him out the door.
“Wait, do you know where the other contestants might be, specia-especi- like the one with dark hair and weird glazy eyes?”
“You’ll probably see them after we get them patched up. Death is a bit more to undo than just near-death here.”
“Oh, yeah that makes sense.”
After gathering his surroundings, Mirage slid his way downstairs to the lobby, winking at different staff and patients.
“Yeah, don’t worry, you’re looking at the champion, no big deal!”
Unfortunately, everyone was far more concerned with their own matters.
“Haha, yeah.”
“Mirage, Elliot Witt?” A voice called out from behind him as he wandered into the lobby. Two suited men with a briefcase approached him.
“Yeah, that’s me!” He proudly pointed to himself.
“Your winnings. Please don’t lose it. I am sure you are also able to prevent anyone from taking it by force, by your… interesting performance. You also may receive these.”
They presented a small device and a mask.
“Neat, but what does this thing do?”
“Go to the hangar bay down the street. A special surprise. Something that seemed fitting considering what we could find in your history. I hope you know how to pilot.”
“Wait, is it like a plane or something?”
“You’ll see.”
Mirage stared at the device in his hand, a bright circular light full of wires that looked like it could fit in some sort of socket.
“What about-” By the time Mirage looked up again, the men were gone.
“Guess I’ll have to take this one thing at a time then. To that hangar!”
“Mr. Witt, I see you are awake. All of your vitals have been stable for a few hours now, and it looks like you are finishing up what’s left of that IV.” The doctor beside him wrote on a clipboard as he spoke, before finally pulling out the needle in his arm. “How about you go ahead and try to move, we can get you about home by the end of the afternoon. I believe you have some business with the suits outside, what with your recent show of sportsmanship.”
Mirage squinted and sat up, looking down at himself. There wasn’t a scratch on him, but also no claws, shell, or the most important part, his bosom.
“Aw man, I was actually getting used to those,” he gave a small sigh of disappointment as he grabbed at his pectorals.
“I am sure we could help out with that if you really feel the need. I am sure can afford the procedure.” The doctor peered over his glasses, waiting to scribble down something else on his clipboard.
“Actually, I think I am good. Gonna just head out here.” Mirage awkwardly stood up from the bed and stretched.
“Oh, please, sign here before going anywhere. Liabilities and whatnot.” The doctor held out the mysterious clipboard he had been writing on. Mirage took it and picked up the pen along with it, staring at the literal scribbled writing. Whether it was him recovering from his wounds or minor dyslexia he struggled with, not a word could be made out of it.
“Uh, yeah sure, “ one signature later and the doctor quickly ushered him out the door.
“Wait, do you know where the other contestants might be, specia-especi- like the one with dark hair and weird glazy eyes?”
“You’ll probably see them after we get them patched up. Death is a bit more to undo than just near-death here.”
“Oh, yeah that makes sense.”
After gathering his surroundings, Mirage slid his way downstairs to the lobby, winking at different staff and patients.
“Yeah, don’t worry, you’re looking at the champion, no big deal!”
Unfortunately, everyone was far more concerned with their own matters.
“Haha, yeah.”
“Mirage, Elliot Witt?” A voice called out from behind him as he wandered into the lobby. Two suited men with a briefcase approached him.
“Yeah, that’s me!” He proudly pointed to himself.
“Your winnings. Please don’t lose it. I am sure you are also able to prevent anyone from taking it by force, by your… interesting performance. You also may receive these.”
They presented a small device and a mask.
“Neat, but what does this thing do?”
“Go to the hangar bay down the street. A special surprise. Something that seemed fitting considering what we could find in your history. I hope you know how to pilot.”
“Wait, is it like a plane or something?”
“You’ll see.”
Mirage stared at the device in his hand, a bright circular light full of wires that looked like it could fit in some sort of socket.
“What about-” By the time Mirage looked up again, the men were gone.
“Guess I’ll have to take this one thing at a time then. To that hangar!”