The doctor's frown deepened as he crossed his arms. "Mr. Williams, I understand that you feel fine, but your case is highly unusual. Cardiac arrest without any apparent cause, followed by an unexplained recovery? We need to keep you here to monitor your progress."
Tony sighed, leaning back against the pillows with a slight smirk. "Doc, I hear you. Really, I do. But I'm telling you, I feel better than I ever have. Like, I could run a marathon right now if you'd let me out of this bed."
The doctor's brow furrowed. "That's precisely the problem, Mr. Williams. No one recovers from a cardiac arrest that quickly, especially not without complications. You're not a textbook case. You're—"
"Special?" Tony interjected, his grin widening.
The doctor scowled. "I was going to say a mystery."
As the doctor continued outlining reasons for further tests, Tony couldn't help but tune him out momentarily, his attention shifting to his own body. Something felt... different. He flexed his fingers and noticed an unfamiliar precision in their movement. Even the act of wiggling his toes seemed sharper, more deliberate. His hearing had a clarity he couldn't explain—he could faintly hear the sound of a nurse's shoes squeaking down the hallway.
And then there was his vision. The fluorescent lights above didn't sting his eyes the way they usually would. Instead, he could pick out faint details in the texture of the ceiling tiles, details that would've been a blur before.
He clenched his fists experimentally, noting the effortless strength in his grip. His muscles felt coiled and ready, like they'd been fine-tuned overnight. It wasn't dramatic—he wasn't lifting the bed with one hand—but it was enough to make him wonder just how deep the changes ran.
Your observations are correct, Roomie's hum echoed faintly in Tony's mind. Neural enhancements have begun cascading effects into your physical systems. Your perception, reflexes, and stamina have increased marginally as a byproduct.
Tony blinked, focusing inward. You're saying this is just... a side effect?
A predictable one. However, full optimization of your physical capabilities requires dedicated modification. The enhancements to your neural pathways could be extended to musculature, skeletal structure, and cardiovascular efficiency.
Tony's mouth twitched into a small grin. You're saying you can upgrade my whole body, Roomie?
Yes. With time and resources.
The doctor's voice pulled Tony back to the present. "Mr. Williams, are you even listening to me?"
Tony raised a hand, trying to look as contrite as possible. "Sorry, Doc. Just... deep in thought."
"Good," the doctor said, clearly not convinced. "Think about what I'm telling you. Your recovery might feel miraculous, but that doesn't mean it's complete. If you leave too early and something happens, the consequences could be severe."
Tony sat up straighter, the subtle improvements in his posture giving him an air of confidence. "Look, I get where you're coming from. But staying here isn't exactly a long-term solution. I'm not made of money, and my insurance only covers so much. And frankly, you've already done the tests, right? You said yourself everything's looking good."
"Looking good isn't the same as stable," the doctor said sharply. "We're not dealing with a common cold here, Mr. Williams."
"I know that," Tony replied, softening his tone. "But I promise, if anything feels off—even a little—I'll head straight to the VA. They'll have everything they need to run follow-ups."
The doctor's expression remained skeptical. "You'll sign off on that? You'll follow up with the VA?"
Tony nodded solemnly. "Scout's honor."
Jay groaned quietly from her seat. "Tony, you were never a scout."
"A Marine is kind of like a grown up scout. Right?", Tony grinned at Jay and extended his hand to the doctor. "Deal?"
The doctor hesitated, then sighed heavily, finally shaking Tony's hand. "Fine. But if you leave, you're signing an AMA—Against Medical Advice. And I'm still going to recommend further observation to the VA."
"Understood," Tony said, his grin returning. "Thanks, Doc."
After the doctor and nurse left the room, Tony leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Jay, however, was less than amused. "I can't believe you're talking your way out of the hospital. What if something happens again?"
Tony reached out to take her hand. "Jay, nothing's going to happen. Trust me."
"Trust you?" she said, shaking her head. "Tony, you're acting like this is a pulled muscle. You flatlined."
"I know," Tony said gently. "But I'm fine now. I feel... better than fine, honestly."
Jay looked unconvinced, her thumb absently tracing circles on his hand. "I don't like this."
In the back of his mind, Roomie hummed again. Your companion exhibits heightened anxiety. This is typical of attachment behavior. Suggest reassurance.
You don't say, Tony thought sarcastically.
Before Roomie could respond, Tony added aloud, "Hey, Jay... can we talk about this later? I promise we'll go over everything, but right now, I just want to get home."
Jay sighed, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to push further. "Fine. But you're explaining everything later."
Tony nodded, then turned his thoughts inward. Okay, Roomie. Let's talk about this upgrade thing. What kind of changes are we talking about?
Roomie's hum deepened, almost eagerly. Enhanced musculature. Reinforced skeletal structure. Cardiovascular optimization. Increased sensory range. Possibilities are significant.
Tony's grin widened. Significant, huh? Yeah, we're definitely gonna talk about that.