The Metahuman Agency: The Superhuman War

Trauma

Jason stepped toward the entrance of the medical ward. The outer doors of it resembled those of a hospital, looking clean (perhaps a little too clean) and had the customary medical emblem printed above it. As Jason approached, two nurses suddenly emerged, chatting with each other. They stopped in mid-stride at the sight of him.

"Hey!" One nurse grinned. She raised a hand. Jason gave her a high five, returning her smile. "Jason! Nice to see you."

"Thanks!" Jason replied. He nodded to the other nurse. The guy just gave him a shy smile. "Its nice to see you guys too. Didn't one of you treat my injuries once?"

The female nurse elbowed her friend. He looked like he wanted to desperately flee the scene but just looked at his toes instead. "He did! Helped stich up a knife wound you got during your guys fight with the freaky artist dude. He's been bragging about it to the rest of the crew ever since."

The guy blushed and gritted his teeth. He grabbed her arm and muttered, "We, uh, have to go..." He dragged the other nurse to the elevator. She burst into laughter as they went and said something to him that sounded like teasing. Jason felt a bit elated as he watched them go. He had fans here. Real people who liked him like...a celebrity or something. Geez. Now that felt kinda good. Of course, these guys were the staff here, so they kinda had to support him but only in the most basic of ways. Not by personally showing up and falling over themselves in his presence. It was pretty cool, that.

Jason smiled again and pumped a fist. Ha! He had fans! He wondered if they wanted his autograph...maybe he should...no. No, no. Jason pushed those thoughts away and calmed down a bit. He wasn't here for fun. He was here to visit Max.

'Stayed focus,' Jason thought. He approached the medical ward and opened it, slipping inside. 'Now lets see how he's doing...'

The inside of the medical ward was a long narrow corridor. Multiple rooms lined it each designed to look a stereotypical hospital room. Jason knew that from experience. Nurses and doctors moved around, checking clipboards and data pads, some talking to each other in hushed tones. One doctor went by Jason, giving him a small smile as he led a staff by who was wearing a cast. Jason led them pass him before moving along the corridor.

He scanned each room. He knew that Max was in one of them. Near the back? It had been a little while since he had last visited, which really sucked. Mostly he hadn't had time, being on missions most of the time and Max also really didn't want them to visit. He always asked them to go away. The poor guy seemed like he was ashamed every time they showed up or something like that.

The Urban Spider paused at the end of the corridor. Through one door's window, he saw a familiar face. He leaned against the door, looking in, his energy starting to deflate as he watched what was inside.

Inside the room he could see Max sitting on the edge of a bed. He was wearing a hospital gown, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. Max was a muscular young man, his skin tan owing to his Hispanic heritage. With his arms uncovered, Jason could see his biceps were pretty dang huge. But in contrast to his well-built body, his face looked...unhealthy.

Max looked a little pale in the face. He had seen the Akihiro stuff, almost as if the events had lathered his skin, leaving a permanent mark. His hair had grown out, now unkempt, scraggily, and sagging over his shoulders. He was also unshaven, a small beard covering his face. His left eye was covered by an eyepatch. Jason shuddered briefly at the memory, the sound of Akihiro's knife...no. No, he pushed that away even as the horrible image started to take root. Not a good idea to think about that shit. Not now.

Max sat in a hunched position, his good eye staring ahead. He didn't seem to be staring at anything in particular, just staring. In front of him was an older man. He sat in side profile to the door and was wearing a doctor's uniform. The man had a well-groomed beard, horn-rimmed glasses, and a face that looked like it had been carved out of stone. He was Robertson, the chief medical officer and seemingly the Director's number two.