The floor thumped and shook beneath the dancefloor. The bass synched up with the heartbeat of every party goer who stomped their feet to the beat. Off to the side, huddled around a small chest height table, Troy and his friends tried to catch their breath. The shine of sweat visible under the lights against his sun-starved skin.
"After all the time spent studying, we really lost our stamina," Troy shouted across the table.
"You were studying this entire time?" One of his friends shouted back.
The table burst into laughter as Troy raised one of his arched black eyebrows. An elbow dug deep into his ribs as his friend bounced his eyebrows, eyes fixated on the bar. A group of women pressed against the black granite countertop of the bar, each wearing a neon-colored dress just as short and tight as the next. Troy pulled his shirt collar up and down his face. The dampness of his sweat could not be seen under the practically nonexistent lights. His stomach tightened as he took his first step, the beer sloshed around, pressure built up around his groin.
"Bathroom first, then embarrass yourself in front of beautiful women."
The welcome chill from the cold water as it washed over his hands was welcome. Troy felt flushed, his skin aflame, and his eyes throbbed with pain. He glanced at himself in the sticker-laden mirror. The thirty to forty minutes to comb and gel his black hair, trim and sculpt his facial hair, and even moisturize his skin. Was completely ruined by an hour and a half of dancing and collective body heat. The whites of his eyes had become more faded with pink since he last came into the bathroom.
"I think it might be time to head home, but first. A kebab. Oh god, that sounds so good."
Troy murmured to himself as he left the sticker and graffiti-clad bathroom. The door swung open, and Troy blinked and jumped back. His fingers traced across his brow and nose, now wet with a liquid that was not sweat or booze. Instead, it felt a little more heavy and viscous. His booze numbed brain began to wake, his bloodshot eyes filled with tears as he gazed upon the room. Thick dark rods that branched off each other ran haphazardly across the entire club, with a body or two pierced at the end of its web. In the center of the dancefloor, as torrents of blood rained down, was a hooded individual. Clad in a black leather trench coat and black hoody underneath, their head turned to Troy. All Troy could see was a shimmering green where the eyes would be before a loud static-like noise began to vibrate inside his head.
The figure brought its hand around, finger outstretched towards Troy. One of the branches near him began to shake as a new branch shot out from its jagged form. Troy could only raise his hand in a feeble attempt to defend himself.
He didn't notice the sudden silence at first. The house music that had been on repeat this entire night was quelled. He began to open his eyes that had shut out of fear. The branch had stopped just before his hand. The figure stood motionless, finger still outstretched. Troy ran a finger across the branch. Its cold, metallic texture was rough to the touch. From a distance, it looked smooth, but he could feel the many ridges that formed within the branch.
"A tree usually signals life, but to him. A tree is a sign of rebirth."
Troy whipped his head around as the voice echoed through the silence. Stood before the figure was something unexplainable. Its body was shaped like a human, but it was wreathed in blue flame, with golden chains wrapped around various parts of its body.
"What is going on? What's happening? Oh god, am I dead?" Troy began to pat himself down.
The figure of flame began to float towards Troy. The chains that dangled off its ankles scraped along the blood-covered floor.
"Troy Michel, it is unfortunate that our first meeting is under these circumstances." The figure's voice echoed and boomed as if it was using the highest quality megaphone in the world.
"To answer your questions, this moment is currently suspended in time. A psyker has come into this establishment and has murdered the entirety of its populace. No, you are not dead."
"This is insane. This is impossible. I must have been drugged, that's it," Troy rambled.
"This moment can not be held for too long, so let me be brief. You hold the spark. This spark is rare and, when ignited, will push you to a level beyond human. These people who have been awoken have been labeled as Psykers. Now you will become one." The flame-clad figure stated.
"Wait, don't I get a say in--"
Troy was cut off by the sudden flash of light that blinded him. Darkness set in, then a chill as Troy sunk into the darkness pushed around by its current. Flames circled him that turned into leaves that began to fall upon him. The leaves sat around his ankles, disintegrating into water that began to form a sphere around him. The last moments of breath escaped from his lungs, and his consciousness faded away.
Troy took a deep breath as he woke up. His body shot up, his eyes darted around the room. A rapid beep began to pick up speed as his breaths became more and more labored. The room was bright, and his vision was still a blur.
"Call the doctor, he is awake!" A muffled voice shouted.
Troy felt pressure upon his shoulder and his back push against him.
"Sir, please relax. You are at West Red Hospital. Please lie back down sir you have been through a lot." The woman's voice instructed.
As Troy began to calm himself, his eyes began to focus on the nurse who leaned over him.
"What happened?" Troy said as he settled back into the bed.
Her face could not hide her kind nature, the tears had already begun to form into her eyes as the door slid open.
"It's ok nurse. I'll take it from here. Mr. Michels, you have been through a terrible ordeal." The Doctor stated.
It was at that moment that he noticed the sharp pain in his shoulder. His fingers ran under the gown and felt the rough gauze texture and tape that covered the top part of his left shoulder.
"You were impaled. Mr. Michels. An inch lower and you would be dead. The object that caused the damage, left severe damage to the muscle group from its jagged and rough edges. We found traces of various metals, which led to heavy metal poisoning. We had to perform chelation therapy which has helped tremendously."
"Doc, you are going a mile a minute and I'm still just trying to wrap my head around everything. How long have I been here?" Troy interrupted.
"You were admitted a week and a half ago. It has honestly been touch and go, you are lucky to be alive. Your brain scans showed some alterations we can only attribute to heavy metal poisoning. Your body in one way or another whether it is due to stress, trauma, or the metal in your blood, shut down. You entered a self-induced coma that could have potentially been fatal. It's a surprise to see you wake up, the damage to your brain is...extensive."
"What do you mean, extensive?"
"Mr. Michels, this is going to be a long night and you have just woken up. There will be a lot you will deal with in the next few days. Get some rest, we will talk tomorrow." The Doctor turned to the door.
"Doc be straight. How extensive are we talking?"
"We have to run some tests, but you will never be the same again."