Early Recovery

Blood pumped out of his stomach wound in steady, thick pulses, pooling around him. His shirt clung to his skin, soaked with the sticky warmth. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to lift himself off the ground, his hands slipping against the blood-slick surface. His arms trembled, unable to support his weight, and he collapsed back with a grunt of frustration and pain.

"Shoot him and let's go!" the knife-wielder barked, panic thick in his voice. He glanced nervously at the glowing shard in Elias's chest. "We don't have time for this—just finish him before the PCA gets here!"

The gunman, wide-eyed and trembling, raised the weapon. His hands shook as he pointed the barrel directly at Elias's chest. "I've got him. Just… just shut up for a second!" he snapped, trying to steady his aim.

Elias's heart hammered, his chest heaving with desperation. The sight of the gun sent a jolt of terror through him, momentarily sharpening his focus. His fingers found the slick puddle of blood beneath him, his hand curling into a fist. With a surge of adrenaline, he scooped up the blood and hurled it at the man's face just as the trigger pulled.

The blood splattered across the man's eyes, and his aim wavered. The gunshot cracked through the air, the bullet grazing Elias's shoulder. Fresh pain flared as he fell back, his body jolting from the impact, but he didn't cry out. The glow from the shard pulsed again, flickering as if it responded to the chaos around him.

"Ah, what the hell?!" the gunman shouted, stumbling backward and clawing at his face. "He threw blood at me! This guy's insane!"

"Forget him!" the knife-wielder yelled, grabbing his partner's arm. "He's going to bleed to death anyways. We're out of time! The PCA is here—run!"

The two men bolted, their footsteps echoing down the alley as the wail of approaching sirens grew deafening. Moments later, a sleek Planetary Civil Authority cruiser sped into view, its lights cutting through the gloom. Another vehicle followed close behind, its engine roaring as it pursued the fleeing attackers.

Elias lay motionless, the pain in his body overwhelming any thought of escape. Blood poured from his wounds, pooling beneath him as the shard's glow pulsed faintly, casting eerie shadows against the alley walls.

The first PCA officer stepped out of the cruiser, his armored boots splashing through the blood as he approached cautiously. "Control, we've got a civilian down," he said into his communicator as his badge reflected "Planetary Civil Authority", his voice firm and precise. His eyes scanned Elias's crumpled form, taking in the spreading pool of blood beneath him. "Multiple injuries—knife wounds, possible gunshot. Request immediate medical support."

The second officer knelt beside Elias, quickly assessing his condition. "He's alive, but barely," she muttered, her hand moving to check his pulse. "Looks like he's lost a lot of blood. We need to stabilize him." Her partner nodded, signaling for urgency over the communicator. Elias stirred weakly, his chest heaving as faint, shallow breaths rattled from his lips.

His body jerked once, a tremor coursing through him, and then he went still. The officers exchanged glances, their movements quickening as they worked to keep him alive. Elias's vision blurred, the alley fading into indistinct shapes and sounds. Their voices became muffled fragments in his ears, fading into a deep silence as darkness closed in.

When Elias woke, the world was sterile and cold. The sharp scent of antiseptic stung his nose, and the rhythmic beeping of a monitor filled the air. Fluorescent light bathed the room in a harsh glow, making him squint as he tried to focus. A mask over his mouth and nose made his breathing feel controlled but labored, and when he tried to shift, a sharp ache radiated from his stomach and shoulder. His body felt heavy, weighted down by exhaustion and the aftereffects of his injuries.

His hand instinctively moved toward his chest, but the tug of IV lines stopped him short. Bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, and the stiffness in his limbs told him he'd been here for a while. He frowned, trying to recall the events leading up to this moment. Flashes of the alley came back—the knife, the gun, and the faint glow of something he couldn't explain. Yet now, there was no sign of it. His chest felt empty, devoid of the strange warmth he'd felt before losing consciousness.

A faint shuffle broke through his thoughts, and a nurse entered the room, her footsteps soft against the tiled floor. She noticed him awake and stepped closer, a faint smile visible behind her mask. "Welcome back," she said gently, checking the monitors by his bedside. "You gave everyone quite a scare."

Elias tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, and the sound came out as a rasp. The nurse adjusted the oxygen flow before continuing. "You're lucky. The PCA officers got to you just in time. You had a knife wound, a bullet graze, and you'd lost a lot of blood. It's a miracle they found you when they did."

He tried to nod, though his head felt impossibly heavy. The nurse finished her check and offered a reassuring look. "Rest up. You're stable for now, but it'll take time to recover."