"I'm a wrestler." -Vega
The beeping of a heart monitor pounds within Vega's ears. He stares at the machine attached to his arm with a pain wrought glaze in his squinted eyes. The lights in the hospital room feel like penetrating lasers piercing through his head. The bandage haphazardly wrapped around his skull is in desperate need of changing, seemingly having soaked up as much blood as possible that leaked out of Vega's vicious laceration at the hands of Xander about an hour ago. He stares down at the blood stains on his body, his arms, and his legs while trying to remember what happened. Vega is almost ashamed to admit to himself he can't exactly remember why he's there to begin with.
There's one thing Vega does remember, though. In fact, it's the main thought that has ran through his head for the past two weeks, and that's the words Xander said to him backstage at Meltdown. Was Xander right? Vega couldn't help but feel like the combination of a blood stained body, hazy memory and visit to the hospital could only mean his match against Xander did not end in his favor. Gently, Vega touches his head, and winces. He shakes his head in disappointment, sure of the fact that these injuries were not all the result of a clean victory for Xander.
That doesn't matter much now, though... does it? Xander is on his way to the Gold Rush Tournament Finals. On the other hand, here we have Vega, sitting in a hospital room, trying to remember what city he's in. Was Xander right? When Vega embraced the darkness, he never found himself waiting for doctors while being at the mercy of fluorescent lighting. This was supposed to be the moment Vega proved to the entire company that he is a changed man. This was supposed to be Vega's evolution into a superstar. Instead, it's Xander who moves on. And Vega is left sitting, wondering if the outcome would have been different if he weren't so determined to change for the better. Is Vega the type of man who is truly at his best when he is at his worst? He wasn't sure which worried him more... his inability to recall recent events, or the memory of his former self. Perhaps Vega will always be haunted by his days as an assassin, but with every passing day he is able to believe that the person he once was will not be the person he will always be. If he was no longer an assassin... no longer embracing the darkness, who was Vega now?
Vega, lost in thought, is snapped back into the present moment by the door swinging open. In walks a doctor ready with gloves and a set of tools. He places them on a table next to Vega, and starts unraveling the bloody bandage around his head.
Alright, let's see how bad this is.
Vega, isn't even sure himself. He grimaces at every motion the doctor makes until he finally removes the entire bandage.
Well, this is definitely a nice sized cut. How did this happen?
The pensive look in Vega's eyes as he struggles to recall worries the doctor, who now begins to clean the wound.
You can't remember how this happened?
His silence serves as enough of an answer for the doctor. With the area around the cut now clean, the doctor prepares an injection.
This is a local anesthetic. It's going to numb the area around your wound, and then I'll be sealing that cut up with just couple of stitches. Sound good?
Vega nods. The doctor injects the local anesthetic directly into Vega's forehead, and waits a couple of moment for the effect to take place. He picks up the needle and threads it while continuing to question his patient.
How did you get here?
Vega hadn't thought about that. He doesn't remember driving here on his own. Did he take an Uber or something? Perhaps. He offered no response.
Okay... well, sir you shouldn't feel a thing.
The doctor approached Vega's wound with the needle, and pierced his skin. The needle poked back through on the other side, and is pulled through with the thread following behind. The doctor repeats this motion as he continues to seal the wound.
Do you know where you are, sir?
Obviously this was a hospital, but Vega had already given up trying to remember what city he was in. Nothing in the room provided any clues to his location. Unable to offer a proper answer, he remained silent once again. The doctor worried more and more about his patient with every pierce of his needle.
Sir, whats your name?
Vega looked straight ahead, slowly coming to the haunting realization that he couldn't remember his own name. Here he is, running away from the person he used to be while unable to tell him who he is right now. Just as he finishes stitching up Vega, the doctor shakes his head and decides he's seen enough.
Sir, I want to keep you overnight for further observation. I don't know how, but I'm quite certain you've suffered a concussion.
Vega doesn't argue with the doctors orders. He sits there, feeling defeated with the understanding that he isn't well. The doctor writes down his notes on his patient's chart as he makes his way to the door. He shakes his head, wondering out loud to himself as he reads over his notes...
Who are you?
The doctor knew no to expect an answer has he reached for the door knob. Vega's eyes widened. For the first time, a glimmer of recollection entered his eyes. He may not know his name, what happened, where he is, or how he got there, but there was one thing he did know. Certain of something for the first time, he finally offers the doctor a response.
I'm a wrestler.
The doctor turned around, surprised to finally hear a response from his injured patient. He stares at Vega for a couple of moments, studying him. He writes a final note in his chart.
Occupation: Wrestler.
A slight smile comes across the doctor's face as he reacts to finally hearing his patient's voice. He nods his head before exiting the room and closing the door behind him. Vega was uncertain of a lot of things, but there was on thing he was certain of now. He wasn't the man he used to be. Not anymore. And that brings a smile to Vega's face.