Political tool
Nero woke up feeling quite refreshed. He felt the strangely soft yet hard when squeezed mattress underneath him, the thin yet rough woollen blanket covering him and the distinct smell of disinfectant.
He was waking up in the hospital again. He almost expected to see his father sitting right beside him when he opened his eyes, ready to crack some joke at his expense.
But when he opened his eyes it was not the warm, relaxed face of his father that was waiting for him. Instead, it was the anxious and irritated mug of a thoroughly pissed off redhead.
Gabriel, despite using crutches, was pacing around the room with a deep frown on his, muttering something to himself.
His memories came rushing in, or at least, a part of them. He recalled the vine invasion in his hostel, and fighting them and…