Saving the World - Awakening

Recovery

The morning sun shone through the window at the head of Eliot's bed.  It was a placid morning, and the sun lulled him into a happy, relaxed state.  Never before had he felt this good, at least not that he remembered.

He sat straight up suddenly, jolted awake by the thought of the previous night.  He felt his back for any scars or needle marks -anything really- but he found nothing.  He cautiously slid his hand over his stomach, but was surprised to feel perfect, unblemished skin.  There wasn't even a hint of a scar or any indicator of his knife dealer incident.

After the shock of healing wore off, he looked around his room.  Samantha was at his bedside, sleeping in a chair to the left of him.  Slightly disturbed, he cleared his throat loudly.  She continued sleeping, seemingly oblivious to the outside world.  He moved closer to her and tapped her on the top of her head.  Suddenly she woke, flurrying her arms all around.  Eliot jumped back to his bed and watched her warily.  After a few moments of drowsy stupor and muttering, Samantha realized what was happening.

"I was supposed to be watching to make sure you were okay!" She said in a panic,"I gotta go!"

Without giving Eliot a chance to respond, she jumped out of her seat and ran out of the room. Confused, he slumped back down into his bed.

After a few minutes of acquainting himself with the room, he remembered his deal with B.  He had sold his soul to the devil, and now he was a part of this freak show.  What did that mean for him?  And why did B want him specifically?  Hopefully he would be able to talk to B soon, because the questions spinning in his head were too much for him to handle.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, and B entered, Samantha trailing behind him.

"What did you do to me?!" Eliot asked incredulously.

"I gave you what you wanted; healing."

"But how, and why?"

"The science behind the chemical is beyond me, but I did it because we need you." B answered evenly.

Eliot looked suspiciously at B.  How was he so important that B would waste some kind of elixir of life on him?  There must be something truly daunting that someone like B would stoop to Eliot's level for help.

"So what else did this do to me?" Eliot asked.

"Besides full healing, we gave you the potential for superhuman abilities."

That was the final straw for Eliot.  B was pushing him around, treating him like a kid.  There was no such thing as "superhuman abilities."

"There's no such thing.  Tell me, right now, why I'm here!  I deserve to know!" Eliot responded angrily.

"I have told you the truth.  The rest is up to you." 

B got up and went to leave.

"Wait." Eliot called after him.

B turned around and looked questioningly at Eliot.

"What am I supposed to do here?  I can't just sleep all day."

B smiled and pulled out a piece of paper. "Meet me at this location by 14:00.  Until then, become more acquainted with the area.  You might also consider moving into your new room."

He motioned to Eliot's bag of belongings in the corner.  With resigned sigh, Eliot

As he watched B leave his room, he took a deep breath and appreciated what health was.  Never before had he felt fully rested and refreshed.  He had always been sleep deprived, or had some kind of bruise from his father or mother. It was a weird feeling for him, but obviously not unpleasant.

He looked around at the room once again.  The window in front of him had the view of the fountain and caught the sun's glares perfectly, filling the room with light.  He looked at the corner that contained his belongings.  His ornate scimitar protruded from the bag, a welcome sight for him.  He walked over to the bag and withdrew as many weapons as he could hold.  His arms full of blades and guns, he carefully set them on his bed and went back for the rest.

After a few minutes of unpacking, he reached the bottom of his bag, where all of his money sat.  It was a substantial amount, due to his most recent escapades, which warranted an appropriate hiding place.  After a few minutes of searching the nooks and crannies of the room, he found a loose power outlet cover.  He wrapped the money in a small cloth bag and tucked it away within the outlet and put the outlet cover back on.

He looked around the room.  It didn't feel like home, yet, but it would hopefully grow on him.

A metallic scent distracted him from the moment, and he noticed that he had never cleaned the stolen knives of the blood from the dealer and himself.  He hurriedly picked the two knives and wrapped them in the now empty bag that had carried his belongings over. He set it aside and placed his scimitar and other weapons on the top of his dresser.  Satisfied with his design, he grabbed the knives and went to search for a bathroom or a sink to clean his weapons. 

On his way to his exit, he noticed another door next to the door to the outside.  Curious, he opened it and was surprised to see an entire bathroom before him.  His eyes widened, and he dropped his bag of knives.  He hurriedly explored the place, excited to have his own personal bathroom.  The shower alone was bigger than the bathroom his family had owned before.  It seemed like luxury to him.

After the initial shock of the bathroom subsided, he went back to get his knives and set them on the counter next to the sink.  He unwrapped them from the bag and turned the faucet on.  As he turned it on, he was once again taken aback by the pureness of the water, and how smoothly it ran.  He shook his head in amazement and proceeded to wash the knives, still careful to not cut himself.

After cleaning them off, he set them to dry next to the sink and took the bag back into his room and placed that next to his weapons.  Once again satisfied with the setup of his room, he grabbed a knife and its sheath and tucked it in his waistband, as if by reflex.  He looked again at the piece of paper B had given him, and looked at a clock on the wall.  It was 12:00, which left him approximately two hours to explore and to find something to eat.

He walked over to the door out of his room and took a deep breath, attempting to prepare himself for whatever was out there.  He grabbed the handle and turned it, opening the door to his new life.