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Isaac’s eyes flickered open and he found himself staring at grey. A lot of grey. As his eyes adjusted he realized he was looking at a greying ceiling. He grunted and lowered his field of vision and tried to take in his surroundings. 

His right arm was hooked up to a drip and his left hand was wrapped in plaster. In the back corner was a small television and he was lying in a single bed. 

This was either the crappiest hospital in the western world or... 

[b]“...there’s no need to worry. You’re safe.”[/b] A familiar voice of an old friend, a friend who can fly, and the pieces fell together as to what exactly happened. 

“How long was I out?” 

[b]“Only a few hours…at first. But then when you blacked out after... it’s been a couple of days.”[/b] Icon responded. 

Isaac pawed at his own face and felt a sense of relief wash over him as he found his balaklava not only in place, but itchy. Itchy was good. It got that way when his facial hair started to cling to it. It meant it had been sitting that way for a while. 

[b]“Don’t worry.”[/b] Icon said, sensing the man in black’s panic. [b]“This clinic is very discreet and they provide confidential treatment for...”[/b] He paused, choosing his words carefully. [b]“People like us.”[/b]

[i]People like us...[/i] Isaac thought to himself. [i]He thinks I'm a meta.[/i]

“A few days for a finger?” Isaac asked.

[b]“Dosage can be difficult to gauge here. Also they needed you to let it heal for a while unhampered. Apparently it’s a delicate surgery to reattach the finger. Interference can result in permanent loss of fine motor skills...and you were being difficult, so they knocked you out a while.”[/b]

“So the finger’s still in there?” the Vigilante asked, looking at the plaster. 

[b]“Yes.”[/b] Icon wasn’t sure how to broach the next issue. It was something that had been bothering him almost from the moment he first met this mysterious man in black, the moment when he called him...

“Could you turn it on?” 

[b]"What?"[/b] Icon asked, visibly perplexed by the question.

“The TV. Could you turn it on? You’re here with me, so I’m guessing we got out of Armageddon unscathed, I want to catch the news and see the part I missed.” 

[b]"Oh...yeah, of course."[/b] Icon said as he reached for the remote and clicked on the boxy old television set that sat on a small table in the corner of the room.

Raucous dancing came on the screen, as Lil’ Jon was mugging at the camera, dreads swaying. 

# Fire up loud, Another round of shots # 
# Fire up loud, Another round of shots # 

Isaac winced away from the TV. “God damn...” 

[b]“What? I take it you're not a fan of this song either?”[/b] Icon asked, somewhat surprised at his reaction.

“Nah, I can’t stan—wait a minute. This isn’t the video clip for this...” 

Suddenly the video cut to a steadycam shot of Isaac being held aloft by the demon. A shaky zoom in on his masked face. The hard dark grin. 

# TURN DOWN FOR WHAT! # 

“What. The. Fuck.” 

[b]"If you can't stand the song, why'd you say it?"[/b] Icon asked, slightly amused at the man in black's irritation.

“Son of a fucking...” 

[b]“Well, why did you say it if you don’t like the...” [/b]

“I don’t bloody know! I’d lost a shitload of blood! I had to say something! You come up with a line on the spot and these press guys were playing the...” 

Suddenly he realized where the footage came from. 

“Motherfuckers... Press motherfuckers...” 

Icon quickly changed the channel to the news. 

Isaac caught himself up with events of that night, and as he calmed down, the silver and blue garbed hero finally asked the question that kept him coming back. 

[b]“Look...That day. You called me—“[/b]

Isaac stopped him. “There’s discreet and confidential, and then ‘discreet and confidential’.” 

Icon continued.[b]“A name. You called me a name. Is there anything you want to say about that?” [/b]

“There will be something said about that, but not here. Let’s just chalk it up to bloodloss along with the song and understand that I’m a friend, not a threat. Good enough for now?” 

[b]“For now.”[/b] Icon hesitantly agreed.