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“He’s going to need help completing the form. I don’t want that arm moved until we’ve had a good go at setting and wrapping, “ the doctor’s voice was firm but sounded like it was coming through cotton to his ears. Everything sounded that way. The world was speaking to him through cotton and looking at him through a fishbowl as his head swam still and sure despite being cradled by a folded pillow and leaned back against a padded guerney.

Quenton hated hospital blankets. They were rough, never kept you warm enough, and were never in plentiful enough supply. Less so at the South Campus University emergency clinic, which was mostly used to treating alcohol poisoning, insomnia and influenza. The nurse that had gotten his fluid IV set up came back to the ‘bedside’ with a intake form and pen. “Quenton, we’re going to need some information to get you admitted for the night. We’d like to keep an eye on you. You’ve got some mild shock, so take your time or ask me to repeat if something is confusing. “

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Your full name?”
“Quenton Vanes Marinus.”
“Date of Birth?”
“June Third. Ninety.....”
She waited patiently.
How old am I? Nineteen. Math. “Ninety four.”
“And allergies?”
“Not that I know of, meds-wise. I’d like if latex wasn’t used, so I don’t develop the allergy to it. “
She blinked, but took it in stride, jotting down a note.
“Alright, symptoms- Chills, trouble breathing, swelling, chest pain, blood on coughs, arm pain, open abrasions, compound fracture at the ribs, broken scapula. Anything else?”
“That’ll do it.”
“Any operations, chronic conditions, or recent illnesses?”
“No.”
“Primary care physician?”
“I don’t have one. Haven’t had a physical since applying to college, and then I went to a convenient care at the Walmart.”
“Family History. Heart Disease, blood pressure, stroke? Lung and asthma? Kidneys? Diabetes? GI tract ? Seizures or epilepsy?”
“Heart Disease on mother's side, ...her father. Cancer here or there, but no one in immediate family.”
“Health Insurance card?”
“In my wallet. You put my pants over there, “ he motioned with a slow tilt of his head. He didn’t linger his gaze on the articles of clothing there. He hate hospital gowns, and now he was stuck in one overnight. They felt demeaning in a way just not wearing anything at all somehow avoided. The only real bonus he’d been afforded in college was that he was still on his parents health insurance until he graduated. Tuition, room and board were all on his own merit of scholarship and student loan. “Don’t bother calling my parents. They’re out of country on work, so if you try to call the house you’ll just get the answering service.”
“Well, we have to at least call and leave a message.”
“ If you need an emergency contact, you’ll find a business card in my wallet for Stroud Marinus. She’s my cousin, and lives in Destiny City. She’d be a better go to.”
The nurse sifted through until she found both cards and kept copying, “Alright.....and what exactly happened?”

He’d limped in, unpowered and out of it, feeling like the whole ordeal was an elaborate nightmare. Except when he’d regained his awareness and reason again, it wasn’t to waking up in his bed- it was to the chilled flow of the antibiotics through his IV. How much could he say without implicating himself personally? It was a nasty catch- he couldn’t tell the truth, no matter how much he would rather. It was dangerous, and would put him at a loss for doing his magical duty and protecting people from the world apart- the Negaverse. The police and law jurisdiction was so inadequate for dealing with it all. “I was on my way to the sculpture studio. A man in really odd clothes, like a uniform from a science fiction show, came out of the shadows. He had an accent, German. I think he was one of those terrorists from the news. He didn’t ask for my wallet or anything. Just went on about some creepy philosophy and then tried to kill me. Another one showed up and got his attention and they focused on each other instead. I crawled away until I could get to the wall to stand up and run. “

It would do. It left out the need to substantiate whether he’d actually been at the studio, since he said he had been on his way there, and he was often there at odd hours. There weren’t any security phones or cameras right in that area- they were some 30 yards away at least and angled towards the walks to and from dorms. He wondered how close the man he’d saved was mimicking this story, only with more truth to it. And in that case, the white-wearing terrorist had escorted the civilian to the hospital sidewalk before leaving. White and Black Terrorists, Spies, Chessmen. Will it only get worse from here, once I’ve made it to the other side of the board and don’t have to be a pawn anymore? Do rooks, bishops and knights have an easier or worse time in battle?

That girl with the wings at the carnival that he’d freed from the tentacles hadn’t seemed to be having any easier a time of it than he had- she’d still been captured by the freakish thing, still struggled and shouted. The only difference had been there’d been someone else there- him. That night no one had saved him from the tentacles or from the captain with the eyes like ruby cabochons. No one came for him tonight either. There was no one beside him, behind him, or in front of him. Could he keep banking on more than warnings? If three times is a charm, then the next time I go out there and face someone alone, someone exponentially above me I’m really going to die. Duty or not. It will be gruesome, painful, and then I will be dead.

I have to keep doing this. God’s breath, why am I alone, if there are so many of us? We don’t even have to be friends. Aren’t we all fighting for the same thing? Trying to help and protect people? Using these pens and powers...living up to the titles born to us, thankless.

Who hasn’t been as lucky? That captain has killed. Would kill that civilian and me, then walk away to find some other game for the night. There are drops of blood to be counted staining his hands and mouth, for eyes that look and see. Athene I could warn, if he doesn’t already know. What a small handful.

The nurse was gone, but he hardly noticed, his mind shifting images of faces to go with names as he stared at the wall, Athene, Aegir, Pomona, Maia...that’s it. That’s everyone I know. Four other scouts, all busy and with their own lives, their own battles and concerns. And *********. Destiny city is a lot larger than 5 kids could protect, even were we working together. Not enough to find that crow down, cage him and kill him. Too many places to fly and nests to find. Too many and to keep THIS name, Quenton.

Am I doing wrong? If my destiny is Thraen, seat of an asteroid and a world ruined far away, should I not be pursuing that? A people and a place there? To return there. Or at least to step into that role more truly here? If I am Thraen, am I really Quenton at all? That crow is certainly no man, even if he pulls it on as a mask later on. A human face to fool the sun.