[23] Elysium I (Patreon)

If there was a place that has never failed to be busy, then it would be the hospital, a place where invisible forces of life and death, of light and dark, fought over true dominion. The New York City Medical Center has never lacked an influx of emergency patients being rushed, and amidst the chaos, Joe could easily slip away from the lax security. However, Joe didn't opt for that option. 




Joe chose the nighttime as the most suitable hour to leave that hellhole. Stumbling out of the hospital was a monumental effort. Joe had to be conscious of each step against the unforgiving, hard ground. Even stepping on a stone would send a jolt of searing pain toward his ribs and flail chest injury. But Joe knew he had to endure. His current predicament was just a dangerous test aimed at his life, and he was damn well going to ace it. The alternative that Joe had in mind for that was destroying the test, as it was slightly rigged. 




A cool night wind caressed his feverish skin as he found solace in the darker shadows of the city, like a broken man in a bat suit. 




'Fuck life.' Joe cursed inside his mind with a thin smile on his lips as he took in shallow and quick breaths. 'Dang, breathing is still as hard as ever. It sucks.' 




The scent of the city, of gasoline, of fumes, of pollution, didn't help to lessen the discomfort in any way. At least, it was better than the antiseptic scent of the hospital. Even off NZT, Joe had already learned to act perfectly as he slowly navigated through the bustling crowd like an average person. He restrained his wince, took care of his deliberate steps, and made sure to guard his right side without making it obvious. The casual, black-tinted glasses he was wearing topped it off to hide his facials exquisitely. And what about his clothes? It was the spare clothes that the hospital had. Joe had to seduce Nurse Eve for that. Though they were not bad, Joe found them disposable after they had served their purpose. 




Joe stopped at the traffic lights and carefully turned his head to see an incoming truck and a few vehicles. Seeing the truck elicited flashes of fragmented images of a nightmare that had ended his previous life. It brought him more pain than even the throbbing bruises on his body as he desperately avoided clutching his head like an asylum mad dog. 'Is this what PTSD is all about?' Joe took a few steps back from the waiting curb as he alarmingly stared at the passing truck. The fear he had seemed coded to his DNA. But why did it have to be that moment? The anesthetic medication still doused in his system didn't help at all. 




Joe winced in embarrassment, his shades hiding most of his peculiar expressions. The people around noticed his behavior but pretended not to give a shit. It was New York, and Joe's behavior wasn't the new normal. 




'I wanna hide somewhere, like right now. It's a relief these people won't even bother remembering me.' Joe decided to think from a logical perspective. 'You can't always remember the faces of the strangers you pass by unless you really have a splendid memory and weird fascination toward keeping random faces in your mind.' 




Joe took the subway that barely had any soul, and it looked like something straight out of a horror setting. The lights kept on flickering on and off as if to mock and tease him into believing that some voodoo shit was onto him. Fortunately, Joe arrived at his street safely. He didn't have a brutal meeting with a ghostly face, Freddy Krueger on summer vacation, or Michael Myers. 




"Ah, finally, my breathing has improved just looking at the familiar apartment building." Joe sighed as he cast a nostalgic gaze at where his home was supposed to be. Reaching the apartment's main entrance, Joe inserted his key and turned the knob before stepping in. 




The air inside was stale compared to the outside, but still better than the hospital. 




"Oh, the elevator is finally working again. It's such a relief that the maintenance is done," Joe muttered under his breath, as he ditched the stairs. 




'This party animals never sleep, yikes.' Joe slowly shook his head when his ears picked up the distant tremors from a powerful woofer. And from the feel of it, it was definitely electronic music. How could Joe not be familiar with it? It would be truly blasphemous coming from an audiophile that didn't discriminate good vibes from any piece of music. 




Ping! 




Joe climbed off the elevator when he reached his floor. He then subtly looked behind at its closing doors before sighing. 'Elevator's final destination. That's horrifying. I'm weird for thinking about my... own death.' 




"Well, I did die, didn't I? But not a second time..." His smile was thin and humorless as he inserted the key to his home before slowly twisting it open. The familiar clicking sound made him slowly remove his shades and anchor them in the breast pocket. Gently, he opened the door, the hinges screaming in joy at being left inactive for an entire month. 




"It never gets old. Home sweet home. Welcome." Joe scanned the room that looked the same as he had left it. The room was filled with silence, desolation, and sadness. The warmth of a home had begun to gradually disappear with each passing day, each acting as a reminder that the person who brought the homely feeling was no longer bound to the living. 




Tightly securing the lock behind him, Joe wore a serious but thoughtful expression as he hurriedly made his way to his room. His walking style was awkward and almost robotic, but he didn't care since he was inside his home. He could even run around naked if that pleased some secret observer perverted. 'God, I'm not an exhibitionist.' That's what he said. 




Joe used another key to open his room and on opening the door, he swiftly did a thorough scan that could even invalidate an IR scanner. The room looked as tidy as ever, a stark contrast to its initial state when Joe had been dabbling with sophisticated domains of physics. His bed was well-made, and the rubbish that had been scattered all over the floor was nonexistent. 




The customized, miniaturized arc reactor, along with his gaming PC setup, was no longer on the workstation table. The current room gave out minimalistic vibes without seeming out of place. 




A pleasant smile stretched out his lips as he completed his one-time survey. 




'Nobody entered here, huh? There's only one way to find out.' His eyes twinkled as he diverted his attention to the polished wooden surface of the table. 




The table's surface was uniform, well-carpentered to perfection, but Joe knew better. It wasn't just perfection; it was a secret vault. Joe lazily traced his fingers on the surface before placing his thumb over a specific place. He subtly pressed his thumb over the spot for a few seconds before the table's surface uniformity began to break. A section of the table started elevating, finally showcasing the OLED screen and his keyboard and mouse. 




"Hmm." He traced his other thumb to another section of the table, which initiated a sequence of actions with the table mechanically partitioning itself into different compartments. A blue light sprang to life within the dimly lit room. 




'The arc reactor is intact, and everything else remains untouched.' Joe sighed in relief. When he had been in the hospital, it was one of the many things that he had been thinking about. Joe had no definite grasp of the future now that he was living the life that he'd never thought to live in. Anything could happen; it was better to prepare his mind for any eventuality. Someone could have bombed the building without warning, or there could have been a sudden arson attack; heck, just anything could try to fuck him up.




'It's a good thing that I'm still a nobody and an unknown factor in the eyes of people of interest. It would have been troublesome if I was the flashy type before gaining any physical or influential advantage.' Joe knew that Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D., or even Stark himself would have been interested in the person who single-handedly created a miniaturized arc reactor from, uh, creative trash. But we both know that never ends well, right? 




"The paranoia gets to me sometimes." Joe touched his feverish forehead. He could feel the pain increasing and his body aching all over, as if its sensitivity had been amplified. The anesthesia's pain-numbing effect was slowly losing its edge, and Joe knew it. 




'I guess there's only one answer — NZT.' Joe gazed at the medicine container before he grasped it and opened the lid. 




"I should sleep first before devouring you, buddy. Sorry, it will be a bad idea to stay awake with the pain and all." 




 




It was a good thing he took the Permanent Immunity Shot before going out. Joe's hospital stay would have been hellish or even death-guaranteed otherwise. 




As Joe kick-started the whole system through a well-hidden switch, the screen brightened up as it gained life. Joe logged in and checked anything of interest on the internet. The Times Square mayhem was still a hot topic even after a month, and it seemed it would trend for some time unless another bigger event shook up New York. 




Joe then summoned the USB Drive and plugged it in. "This is the greatest security protocol. Oh, talking about security..." His thoughts wandered off to the damaged phone lodged inside his inner pockets. With swift movements, Joe put the phone on the table. It had a severely damaged, slightly bloodied screen. His phone gave off signs of having an early send-off. 




"Yeah, definitely. I can fix her." Joe nodded to himself before turning his attention to the movie folder. The cursor hovered over the Elysium movie, but it was a pity. To bring to fruition what he was thinking, he would have to create another miniaturized arc reactor. He couldn't wait a whole damn week to facilitate the possible creation of a portal, a literal spatiotemporal bridge to an unknown parallel universe.




Time was running out, and he needed to be in his best condition; to be prepared. 




"MedPod 3000, I'll be with you soon." Joe unmounted the USB Drive before tightly clenching his hand. If there was one thing he had come to abhor, it was getting hurt or sick—just like any other human. No one likes sickness or brutal injury; even masochists have their limits. Losing a leg or hand is never enjoyable.




After closing the set-up and making sure everything looked unsuspicious, Joe carefully lay on his bed. Gone were days of just dropping himself dead like a log. When you have a caved-in chest and a few unknown injuries riddling your body, discipline and order seem to take over.




"Uh, they're going to freak out when they realize I took an early summer vacation, haha." Joe thought of the hospital and Christine before he shut down. 




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