Hiro opened his eyes after what felt like a lifetime. He had been in bed for more than twenty-four hours. It was all Taros' idea—his crazy way of forcing Hiro to rest. If it wasn't for the damn medication, he wouldn't have stayed still for that long.
And to make it worse, it was Saturday morning. Nothing to do. No action. No mission. Just an empty day.
He sat up and looked down at his chest. That was where the bullet had hit him. The pain was gone, but the scar was there—clear and ugly. That wasn't like Taros. He never left a scar behind. Hiro was just about to complain when the door opened, and in came Taros and Kael.
"Thank goddess. I was about to send for you," Hiro said, looking at them both. He noticed the way they glanced at each other, confused by his welcome. He shook his head. "Taros, man, why the fuck did you leave a scar? You know how much I love my skin. It sparkles, bro. Why?"
