Elias woke to the steady rhythm of beeping monitors. The air was crisp and sterile, and a dull ache radiated from his shoulder and stomach. As he shifted, the pull of bandages reminded him of the alley—flashes of pain, blood, and chaos surfacing briefly before receding into the fog of his mind.
The door opened, and a nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand. "You're awake," she said, a faint smile crossing her lips. "You've made an incredible recovery in just two days. Once you feel ready, you can get up and move around. I'll bring your discharge paperwork shortly."
"Thank you, ma'am," Elias replied, his voice dry and faint. He offered a polite smile as the nurse gave a brief nod and exited, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Elias sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes falling to the IV line taped to his arm. After a moment's hesitation, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the cold tile floor. His fingers brushed the nearby remote, and without much thought, he pointed it at the ceiling-mounted TV and turned it on.
The screen flickered, and a news anchor's steady voice filled the room.
"Two days ago, a series of unexplained flashes of light streaked across the skies above City Covaign. Similar events have been reported in other parts of the world, but officials have yet to issue a statement regarding their cause. Speculation is rampant, with unconfirmed sources linking the phenomena to a classified government operation."
Elias's expression hardened as the broadcast continued.
"In a related incident, a man who was stabbed and shot twice during a street altercation is said to have survived against all odds. Medical experts are calling his recovery unprecedented. Details remain scarce, and officials have declined to comment further."
Elias stared at the screen, gripping the remote tightly. There was no doubt they were talking about him, though they'd carefully avoided revealing too much. His stomach tightened, a mix of unease and anger bubbling beneath the surface. Before he could think more about it, the anchor shifted topics.
"Meanwhile, concerns about another alien attack are on the rise. It has been over six months since the last incursion, and many are demanding answers about the origin of the aggressors. Government silence continues to fuel public speculation."
Elias switched the TV off. The room fell into silence, the words lingering in his mind like an itch he couldn't scratch. As he set the remote down, a sharp knock at the door pulled his attention.
His head turned quickly toward the sound, his shoulders stiffening.
"Hello, Nur—" he began, but the words caught in his throat as the figure stepped into the room.
Elara entered with calm, measured steps, her service uniform crisp and impeccable. The dark navy jacket fit snugly, the polished insignia of her rank gleaming subtly on the collar. The emblem of her platoon was displayed over her chest, clean and understated, yet impossible to miss. Her tailored trousers flowed seamlessly into polished black boots that softened her footfalls. A sleek utility belt at her waist carried a single data pad, and her gloved hands moved with a purposeful ease as she tucked the gloves into the belt.
She seemed every bit the figure from recruitment posters—sharp, composed, and commanding, yet approachable enough to put civilians at ease. Her gaze settled on him, sharp but not unkind.
"WH-what are -you; I mean how are you doing, why would you waste your time coming down here."
"What, I can't check on an old friend?" Elara asked as she sat down in the chair near the bed, taking a slow, measured breath and tilting her head back toward the ceiling lights.
"I suppose," Elias replied dryly. "So, that's what it takes to get a visit from you—being stabbed and shot? I'll keep that in mind for next time."
She let out a soft chuckle. "Hopefully, it won't take that in the future. I'm glad you're recovering, though. Life hasn't been easy for anyone."
"Yeah," Elias said, leaning back slightly. "It usually isn't when aliens attack, and the military takes over the entire planet. But I guess it beats when countries were always on the brink of war."
"I suppose so," Elara agreed with a small nod. After a moment, her expression grew more serious. "But I didn't just come to catch up. I heard about your attack—and I saw it on a security camera."
Elias furrowed his brow, sitting up straighter. "Saw it? What's there to see? I got jumped, stabbed, and shot. Pretty straightforward nightmare scenario."
Elara smirked faintly. "Dry humor as always," she said as she pulled out a sleek touchpad. She tapped on the screen, bringing up grainy footage. "I watched the whole thing. Impressive, honestly—fighting off two guys like that. Maybe if you weren't so nice, they wouldn't have gotten the better of you."
"Thanks," Elias muttered, glancing at the screen as the video played. The scene showed him grappling with the two attackers in the alley, his movements desperate but determined.
Elara fast-forwarded the clip to the moment just before the gunshot. The screen suddenly distorted with a burst of bright light, obscuring everything for several seconds. When the feed returned, it showed a PCA officer carrying Elias's unconscious body onto a stretcher.