[~14th April 1982~]
[~Mary Blue Hospital, New York~]
A light summer rain had enveloped the night of New York city in grim glory.
A grey Aston Martin halted under the establishment of Mary Blue and a fine looking gentleman stepped out of it, his black suit fitting his body sharper than a knife.
“I would suggest haste, Master Arthur.” A middle-aged black man peaked out of the driver's side. “Lady Elena was impatient about Master Robert's well-being.”
Arthur Vernon let out a sigh as he looked up at the venue, the lighting crashing behind its view made it jump out like a haunted mansion out of a horror novel.
“When is she not, Elijah?” Arthur climbed up while the butler drove into a side park.
Arthur pushed open the door's while led into a large lobby.
The hospital would have felt entirely abandoned if not for the flickering lights and the nurses crossing between the wards on random occasions.
Arthur, not minding the state of the building, casually strolled towards the reception.
“Hello, sir.” The receptionist greeted him.
“Hi, I'm here to pick up my son.” His hand reached into his inner pockets drawing the receptionist’s curious eyes.
He grinned, placing a silver card on the table with a black V etched over it and a set of serial numbers on its bottom.
“He's quite special, I believe.”
She blinked as she identified the card and slowly her lips curled into an innocent smile.
“Of course sir.” She swiped the card into her hands. “Aren't all of them?”
His grin faded as his eyes slightly twitched at her words. She gestured to him to follow and he did so with a scowl.
‘Fucking bitch.’ He muttered to himself as he followed her deep into the hospital and soon he found himself at an iron door blocking the entrance to a hidden wing of the establishment.
She swiped the card into the lock and tapped in a combination of numbers and the door hissed open revealing a hallway, tinged on the rays of blue shone on either side.
All of the rooms had futuristic machines with many carrying a large number of babies placed on incubators with a blue liquid connected to their arms through IV drips.
The receptionist led him into one of the rooms, where a middle aged doctor with grey hair was scribbling something on his pad.
She passed the card into his hands and he narrowed his eyes while giving it a look.
The doctor nodded to him and led them towards an incubator with a set of numbers matching the ones on the card.
He pocketed the card and picked up the file placed next to the baby, adjusting his glasses he gave it a read out loud.
“Robert Vernon is it?” He asked and Arthur nodded.
He gave him a sharp look and grunted. “I want a verbal acknowledgement.”
Arthur blinked, his eyes twitching once more before he exasperatedly sighed. “Yes.”
“This is his last check up, am I right?”
“Yes.” Arthur stressed, tapping his foot impatiently.
“His vital signs are stable, all organs are in their own places.” The doctor read the report carelessly. “No signs of variation or biological mutation, complexion retained, overall product quality: good.”
