If there was one thing Albert really did miss, it was definitely being able to scroll endlessly on his phone. Something the early two-thousands this world seem to be in lacked completely. Sure, he could play that one-bit snake game on his phone for the thousandth time but frankly, it'll probably make him go mad. Without anything to distract his racing mind, he could only placidly look around at his environment.
The room was nearly pure white, with two rows of shelving lining the wall, along with a few posters depicting people of all ages in some variation of a happy family. Grandparents clutching their grandchildren with a big goofy, gap tooth smile or of a mother cradling her freshly born baby. Her tired expression did nothing to hide the loving smile that threatened to split her face in twain. Of course, there were a few somber looking posters, saying something about safe sex or the dangers of sharing a needle with even a relative. The usual. A singular, hopefully fake, skeleton stood off to one side. It's cold, empty gaze burrowing a hole right through him. Like a silent watcher judging him for his idiotic decisions that found him where he was currently.
His vision flickered in tandem with those bright overhead lights, their need of replacement making itself obvious. Shuffling in place, hearing and feeling that sheet of transparent paper beneath him slide against the slightly cushioned bed of sorts. Just being there, in that room, sitting on that same paper sheet, it was all too easy to fall back onto childhood habits.
He wanted to jump up and flee, pace or really do anything to avoid sitting in on that hospital bed. No one actually liked going to the doctor's office. No one actually enjoyed going to the hospital. Even quarterly check-ups were something people did not because they had extra income to throw around but simply so they could catch anything too life threatening in it's infancy. Like men with colon cancer or women with breast cancer. But sadly, by the time he'd...left his past life behind, such a thing was normally out of the hands of the majority of people. Things had just gotten so expensive that it was considered a luxury to schedule a check up. And actually getting anything done was near crippling, that being with insurance.
So home remedies had become the norm. Had a cold, get some vaporub. Had a headache for days? Slice a potato and place the slices on the head and for some reason, it got rid of it. And most staunchly supported among them all, was the exact bright red fruit plastered across a singular poster taking up a large part of a single wall.
An apple a day does NOT keep the doctor away!
'Like I'll believe that.' Maybe the initial meaning behind that iconic nursery rhyme-esque was just to encourage children to eat healthier so they didn't need to go to the doctor but over time, it had become the cure all to all aliments…..maybe that's why apples had gotten so expensive back then. 'Eight bucks for a single apple was insane, what did they expect was going to happen?
He had to resist the urge to clench his hands into fists at the rather infuriating memory. Even numb it might be, he wouldn't be foolish...rash enough to further injure himself…. Atleast not here.
With little to keep his mind distracted, it was inevitable that those dreaded scant moments would be replayed. The way his hips moved, how his shoes slid against the mats, how hot salty sweat dripped into his eyes. He could picture it perfectly, or at least as close as it could get. In one moment, he was facing the hanging bag and in the next, his perception moved outward. Until it was like he had a third person perspective of the entire situation.
Albert didn't really know a lot about fighting, so there was no way he could properly judge his stance but even he knew it was awful. It just looked weird. Feet together, legs straight and back hunched over like some sort of goblin. And his strikes, it was almost painful to watch. He was usually the first one to comment snarkily at how ridiculous someone looked whenever there was a particular entertaining fighting video. Not trained of course, those fans would surely rip him a new one in the comments but the average street fight that got out of hand. Their flailing arms and fists flying wide off into the distance, everything came down to luck in fights like those.
But here he was, doing the exact same thing. His blows came in wide, striking out with what he thought were heavy blows that he now knew were some of the weakest punches he'd ever seen in either life. They didn't even seem to force the heavy bag to move out of sync with it's natural sway. Maybe it was just him being harsh on himself, but it kinda looked like a skit. A bad one at that.
And it became infinitely harder to look at as time went on.
Especially when 'that' moment slowly unfurled. A fist 'hurtling' through the air, a swing arm coming out with a famous hook shot, wrist bend inward. Things slowed down as his fist grew closer. Whether it was because of how desperate he was at that time or his depth perception just failed him or sometthing, he had somehow 'missed'. No, he for sure hit the punching bag. Instead of his entire fist impacting against the bag, only his pinkie knuckle actually landed.
He saw his body freeze in place, a look of incomprehension plastered across his countenance. Before falling down into a ball, clutching at his hand. The memory froze, like someone had pressed the pause button and with another 'press' the scene played in reverse. On and on this went, watching a failure so profound that he felt the urge to curl up into another ball. This one not in pain but in unadulterated shame.
'I just hope it wasn't caught on one of Batman's hidden cameras… Who am I kidding? Of course it was.'
The sudden turn of the elongated door knob caused his head to snap to the side, any bit of external stimulation was greedily eaten up by his mind. There standing in the doorway was a rather haggard looking man. Maybe he could be considered handsome with those dark brown eyes and shaggy brunette hair, if it wasn't for the uneven scruff covering his face or how sloppy his navy blue scrubs looked with his red tie barely holding on. Over that, he wore a pure white lab coat that signified his position of a doctor in the minds of the vast majority of the population.
Blame light night television over the coarse of multiple generations for that.
'Doctor Aiden Bailey.'
Albert squinted a bit to read at the small nameplate on the right side of the man's chest, eyes dropping immediately to the wooden clipboard clutched in his other hand.
"…" Doctor Bailey squinted his own, maybe in challenge or confusion. "You are Albert Nelson, right?"
"Yes?"
"Good." The doctor yawned loudly without holding anything back, before closing the door behind him with a soft click. Snatching up a nearby chair, he almost completely collapsed into a boneless heap as he rummaged around in his breast pocket. Pulling out a cigarette box in one hand and a lighter in another, he slapped the box once and expertly slid a stick up to his mouth. "What?"
"…" Albert really didn't know what say here, he was pretty sure smoking in a hospital outside of properly labeled designated zones was illegal. But also, earning the ire of the man was responsible for treating him beyond the minor painkiller the nurses already administrated to him, really didn't sound like a good idea. "Is-is that allowed?"
"If you got a complaint, take it up with my boss or better yet, the board." He snorted derisively, lighting the cancer stick and instantly filling the room with the smell of burning tobacco. Inhaling once, the man savored the taste. His slouched figure straightening a bit as those tense shoulders slouched in relief. Exhaling a white plume, he continued. "I'm thirteen hours in on an unplanned eighteen hour shift. And they interrupted by lunch break for this, they can fire me for all I care at the moment. You don't got asthma, so you're good."
'Sounds like absolute hell.' There was no way, any of his past jobs would ever catch him with something like that. Most people wouldn't tolerate a ten hour shift much less something nearing twenty. Maybe that was how those in the medical field were treated. If it was him, he would've walked awhile ago. But the man did care, despite trying to hide under what seemed like years of patients forming callouses and exhaustion that not even coffee could fix...that's a lie. Maybe Jeremiah could brew something to give a little extra energy.
"I have no complaints." It wasn't his license at risk after all, and if the man was truly as demanded as his attire seemed then he would be fine.
"You sure?" Now, the doctor looked even a mighty bit pleading. "I got some stronger stuff. Cuban cigars, they smell something awful and it take forever to get rid of the scent...No dice? Fine, let's get this done."
Sighing at the blank expression, Bailey reached for a small instrument besides them and placed a black plastic like material in the middle before flicking a switch. Instantly illuminating the background and presenting an x-ray of Albert's right hand. He'd seen such things before, usually on the internet or on TV but never one that was actually his.
It was a strange and rather disappointing sight. Deep down, he'd kinda harbored some hope of his body being different from the normal humans here. Like some of those isekai stories he'd hidden himself away in, something he'd foolishly wished for many nights. A dream that didn't come to pass in his teen years and was reluctantly tossed to the side as an adult. The world of adults didn't have room for such childish dreams. At least that's what the previous generation tried their best to drill into his head.
But no matter how he look, it just looked like an average skeleton outline of a humans' hand. His hand.
"I'll give you the good news first." The doctor exhaled, jamming a finger at a small spot on the far end where the pinkie finger was located. "What you have is something called a Boxer's Fracture. Usually comes about when you punch something wrong. You put too much pressure on a single knuckle at the wrong angle and SNAP! You got a fracture. But luckily for you, it's a minor one. A crack here, not a complete break. So you don't need surgery."
"…" That was good at least, if there was one thing he for sure could not afford it was any kind of surgery. Invasive or not. And not even taking into account the healing time with physical therapy included, it would massively affect his plans going forward. Just looking at the man, he knew there was a hammer waiting to drop. And it didn't seem the doctor was all too interested in continuing unprompted. "That's good, I don't really want surgery either."
"Hold up, I'm not done yet." Bailey chastised, the end of that stick heating to an angry red. "That's all the good news. You'll be stuck in a brace for six to eight weeks. You won't be able to use it for much of anything during that time...unless you want to wind up back here for surgery. If you put that minor fracture under any sort of extraneous pressure, it'll crack right through. And if you thought what felt was painful before, then you aren't ready for the amount of pain that'll come if that happens."
'Six to eight weeks?!' He could barely, just barely hold back that exclamation. It wasn't the best news to hear, especially when his hands were essentially a big part of his business going forward. Both mundane and mystical. Being essentially forced to tie his dominant hand behind his back, was for sure going to play killer on his future going forward. Hell, it might even affect one of his only forms of self defense he had.
"There's more. I was looking through your medical records and it says you should still be wearing a sling. I don't gotta hear any excuses, I know their annoying but you should wear it for another two weeks. Even though it wasn't the same arm, you still put a lot of pressure on it."
It was he was in the ring with a champion level boxer, those heavy blows coming from opposing sides with scant amounts of mercy present. And from how the man let out another plume of smoke, it didn't seem like he was finished in the slightest.
"While looking in there, I came across your birth year and let me tell you. Those bones do not look like the bones of a sixteen year old boy." Here, the man's brown eyes grew hard. The gaze wasn't exactly leveled Albert's way, but more at something just beyond his shoulder. "Your muscularity and bone density is not at the levels even someone your age should be. Look kid, I don't know your story. I'm just a doctor and I'm gonna tell it you straight. Your body has shown some long term signs of malnutrition. You're shorter, lighter and have a weaker immune system than a vast majority of your peers. You gotta start making strides in eating. And not just all that junk food, your blood pressure is already too high. Start eating right. A well balanced diet. You know the food pyramid? That. If you don't, then you're gonna keep having these injuries and when you're older, you can possibly start developing early arthritis…. And if that's not enough of motivation to get your shit together, then girls your age won't stop mistaking you for being their little brother's ages."
He kinda knew that his lower than average stats could lead to some problems, but never like this. He hadn't even developed arthritis in his old life and now here, he was at risk? There was no way he could let that happen. If it meant he had to start avoiding the cheap and easy food then so be it...but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the occasional noodle pack.
'I did buy that special spicy bundle...it would be a shame to just toss it out.' Maybe this was actually a good thing, he'd gone a tangent about eating better and now he had some fire under his bum. It just meant he'd have to spend a little extra here and there to make it work. 'Looks like I'm gonna be a coupon hunter.'
"I understand."
"Sure." Bailey sighed, before standing up and walking over to a nearby drawer. For a moment, Albert felt a spike of dread plunge down his spine and it took everything he had not to just bolt out of the room. But when the doctor only pulled out a black arm brace of sorts, the teen slumped back onto the paper sheets. Turning back around, the man strapped the brace in place tightly. "Wear this for six-no-eight weeks, given everything. I'll have a prescription ready for you at the front desk. Don't get too excited now, it's just gonna be some basic pain meds. Nothing you couldn't get over the counter at any gas station."
"Thank you doctor." Albert said, feeling the fabric tighten itself around his forearm in a vice grip. The device slide past his fingers, exposing all his gloved digits to the air. Testing a few fingers, he found most of them could move but the pinkie and ring finger. Both of which wouldn't move even a little bit. It would make things a bit difficult but at least somewhat manageable.
"Don't thank me yet." The doctor snorted, holding the cigarette between his lips as he scribble at something on that clipboard. "You can also pick up your bill at the front."
***
The air felt a bit awkward, at least it did to Albert to say the least. The large man besides didn't seem to have a care in the world, who even went as far as to nod genially at passerbys.
"I swear I'll pay you back." It was a few moments of silence as the two walked, the weight of the words too much for him to hold back. "It...it just might take me a bit."
"Nah." Grant nonchalantly said. "You don't got to. Plus besides, it was at least a bit my fault you were even hospitalized. So it's on me."
The teen wasn't a fool, most of the time, nor was he blind. With how worn down that gym look, with it's chipped paint and hand-drawn sign, it was clear that the bill must've at least cut into the man's savings. A kindness rare for anyone living in Gotham. Hell, if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have hesitated to quickly flee the scene. Being in debt was one thing but owing that amount of money to a single person? Yeah, he would've suspected an ulterior motive.
Nothing good with how this city infected every citizen with it's dark tendrils.
It's a good thing Ted Grant was a hero. And not just the kind to dress up in a costume to beat up some unlucky thugs but a real beacon. It was intrinsic. A nature better than a majority of the population world wide. A man who truly wanted to look out for the underdogs and downtrodden. Frankly, it was a bit blinding.
So much so that it made Albert want shy away from the light, like some sort of cave dweller that hadn't seen the sun in generations. He knew, that even in his past life that if he was put in that exact same position as the men, he still wouldn't have even lifted a finger to help. Not just because he for sure couldn't afford to foot someone else's medical bills, but also due to him simply not caring enough. Sure, he would've offered a few empty consolatory words but beyond that? Maybe he would've slowly separate himself over the course of days before inevitably ghosting them. Both parts not wanting to be dragged down emotionally and/or financially if they decide to sue.
Frankly, if it had been him in Grant's position, he would've only dropped him off at the hospital. He wouldn't have waited in the lobby with him nor wait for him to get back. And he certainly wouldn't have snatch the bill when it came.
It was common for people back home to make fun of the absurdity of heroes from this twisted world, but if there was one thing no one denied, it was there heroic spirit.
Something that shouldn't exist in Gotham of all places.
Albert knew he should just keep his mouth shut, just accept the kindness and the financial weight being shunted off his back. But...he just couldn't do that. Even if Psychology told him how steadfast the man was in his decision, saying nothing felt like he was taking advantage of the man.
"Are you sure? I can for sure pay you back," After a few high paying cases, yeah he could for sure make up the total. But just looking over at the large man, he knew his words didn't achieve anything but ping harmlessly off a set of metaphorical armor. It seems he would need to go about this from a different angle. "I just really don't want to be indebted to anyone."
"You're too young to be speaking like that." Ted shook his head sadly and the teen had to bite back an instinctual acidic response. The man was just speaking his mind and there was no reason to bite his head just for that. Besides, he was way too well connected. Some of the most famous characters trained under him, most of which wouldn't mind popping some uppity kid in the mouth for disrespecting their teacher. "But I can understand what you mean...Hmm, how about this. I won't ask accept money, so don't even try. Instead, you can repay me by taking better care of yourself. You're way too skinny and that's gonna affect you severely when you hit puberty. It's fine now but you're gonna notice exactly how much shorter and skinnier you are in comparison to your peers….If you still want to learn how defend yourself, developing a stronger and healthier body is for the best. I'll teach you if you come back in a year or two and I see some noticeable differences."
"What?" It was impossible to not snap his head the man's direction. "How old do you think I am?"
"I wanna say…" He rubbed his stubble covered jaw in thought. "Thirteen? Fourteen?"
"I'm sixteen…"
"Oh." A simple two letter word, a single syllable. But it was like someone had gut punched out of nowhere, taking great glee in the action. "Oh. Then you need to work on that double time. Yeah, you can for sure pay me back by taking better care of yourself. Get some more protein especially. It'll help you pack on muscle."
"…" It stung, but it wasn't something he hadn't heard before. Hell, that doctor had said the exact same thing. But unlike before, there was a small tidbit of information that perked his ears to attention. "You said you'll teach me?"
"…." Here, Grant side-eyed him. It was shameless, they both knew. He'd done the teen a massive favor and now here he was asking for more? But to receive training that'll put him on somewhat even ground with DC's more skilled combatants, forming a temporarily thick skin was enough. "I'm a man of my word. If you come back in a year or two, with significant positive physical change, then yes. I'll teach you."
"Th-"
"I'm not done yet." The man held up a single meat palm, forestalling that response. "I should warn you, I won't be holding your hand when I train you. I won't accept anything but your best. Every unscheduled day off will be met with more training the next day. I certainly won't take you not listening to me. When I say keep your wrist straight or strike with a particular knuckle, you do it. Not that half-cocked wild punch that only hurt you in the end. You got me?"
"Yes si-Ted." Waiting a year for tutelage wasn't too bad, especially if it was the same man who taught Black Canary, Catwoman and even Batman. If before, he had the fear of arthritis creeping in at an inopportune time then now he had an even greater fire lit underneath them. Maybe it was better to call it a bonfire. Even if the system wouldn't pop up with a quest, he would do it's job for it.
'Ding.' He thought, remembering all those novels where systems chimed or sung in the narrator's mind. 'New Quest: Bigger fish in a Small Pond! Developed your body an adequate level with in the next year! Reward: Personal tutelage from Wildcat himself!'
Unsurprisingly, no prompt popped into view. Nor did the system even deign to respond or really show any reaction to his thoughts. A blessing or a curse, he didn't truly know.
Even with a black brace on one arm, it's material rubbing against his skin something raw, Albert couldn't help but smile. Despite everything, the pain, the heavy chains of debt weighing heavy on his shoulders and the long recovery period, it seems that day did have something good about it after all.
(A/N: Man, I gotta say looking over everything it makes it seem like I'm bullying Albert or something. He can't seem to catch a break and that's probably why I threw in that conciliation prize near the end. I just felt kinda bad. But yeah, I hope you guy enjoyed this week's chapter! Next week we'll get some closure on the last case and move the story along! Thank you all for reading and I'll see you then!)