Who: Virgil Hawkins. {works as a narrative unless someone he knows wants to tag in.} What: fear and a coma When: a few hours after arriving at the hospital. Where: Memorial Hospital Warnings: highish for medical prattle.
The process was quick, but to Virgil it seemed to take an eternity. He wasn't conscious enough to feel, only to hear concerned voices telling him to stay there. Stay with them. Where the hell did they think he was going? Stupid doctors. He was strapped down to an uncomfortable, cold medical bed. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him. He saw it, his future..some of it anyway. He was going to be a leader of the future JLU in Gotham City. He had plans to take his relationship with Frieda to the next level, this...this was unreal. This was unfair. The sad part was he didn't even realize what had really happened. What made him so ill in the first place. Roy. His girlfriend had done this. All because he'd wanted to do was help her. Help everyone, that was what it was about. Helping people one at a time. It sounded lame, but he was given his powers for a reason. At first he thought it was because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Big Bang, Dakota City Riots. At the time? He was hardly super hero material. Virgil was just a outcast high school student who picked the wrong fight.
Years later he was doing the same thing. Picking the wrong battles. Now he was going to pay for it. His life hung in the balance. On a wire because he was too trusting. Virgil couldn't hang on for ever. His vitals started dropping. Doctors rushed in and got to work. Analyzing what went wrong, reading charts and demanding medications (none of which worked thanks to his powers). Virgil's system rejected all of them, burned them off faster than they could even enter his blood stream and start working. They were losing him. He was slipping. It was painful. It felt like he was burning from the inside. Everything was hot. Blood drained from his nose. Doctors clotted it.
They were close to pulling the plug. They had no antidote, but the JLA had promised one. So they did the next best thing, a medicinal coma. A doctor picked up the boys bare arm and found a vein. The needle went in smoothly and Virgil felt himself fading. For now the pain had passed. His surroundings blackened and he could no longer feel the heat. Only cold. Only saw his city.
It was empty save for him. Like it had been wiped out, except nothing changed. There was no sign of a struggle. No sign of anything except abandoned buildings. He was alone. His greatest fear come to pass.. "Hello?" He called as he stood in the middle of the street. His voice echoed and nobody answered. No cars passed, no bang babies. Not even the wind whistled like it always did on sunny days. Except the sun didn't last, it turned to rain. The sky dark. He started walking towards home, but the street seemed to extend forever. He couldn't find his way.