The Quincy and The Tourist (Rits and Stein)

"Its cold.", Steiner said to no one in particular as he marched his way out from the only train into town and out into the frigid weather that belonged to Russia, a neutral zone in the far north of Asia. After making a pit stop in Europe, Steiner had continued to knock things off his bucket list so to speak, and one thing on his list was to visit Russia. After all, Russia had a vibrant history, and had notoriously been a powerhouse of a country back several hundred years ago. Now, however was a different story, but anything was possible! Maybe one day the glorious Russian empire would emerge from ashes of this neutral zone to become a power house once more, but for now Steiner wasn't interested in combat potential. His time was limited, a mere couple of weeks left before he would just cease to be. With an expiration date like that, Steiner had been trying to enjoy himself as much as he possibly could, but even that had become hard to do.

Over the course of the train ride, Steiner had began to lose feeling in two of his fingers on his left hand, something the doctors said would begin to happen sooner or later. It was a sign of his end and not something that was sitting too well with the former vanguard member. His face, still hidden beneath a white hoodie, was riddled with black veins that pulsated from time to time, giving him the appearance of some deformed freak. He remembered getting stares on the train, people would gasp, and point at him as if he was some kind of monster. It hurt on an emotional level and though he struggled to hide his pain, it had become so hard to not hide the way he felt about being treated like that during his trip to the frozen world of Russia. The remaining people on the train had filtered by him, making sure to not touch him as if he was some kind of contagious disease, a walking petridish of viruses waiting to infect them. He hung his head low, walking slowly as to avoid catching any one's eyes.

He exited the train station and was instantly hit by a cold gust of wind, cold of course was not the way to describe it, but Steiner's vocabulary at the moment was more focused on cursing under his breath. He clinched his jacket closer to him as he made his way out into the snow. It reminded him of the time he had climbed the mountain to reach the summit and awaken his powers, but there was no real purpose to him being out in the cold like this. No, this time, Steiner was merely there as a tourist. Someone that was interested in learning about the culture and enjoying the sights, not that there was much that Steiner could see with his vision obscured by his hood, and what he could see being blurred out by snowy gales. After a few moments of braving what most people in Russia probably considered a slight breeze with a bit of snow, Steiner found himself entering what he hoped was a place he could just sit down, and eat.

Pushing the door open, a jingle filled the occupied restaurant as the bells on the door clanked together, and Steiner entered into what appeared to be a local diner. For a few seconds Steiner began to dust off the snow on the floor, only to gain a few dirty looks from patrons who were not too happy with Steiner wetting the floor in front of the door. Steiner gave them a weak grin underneath his hood as he walked his way up to the front desk to get himself a seat at one of the tables, hopefully. He began to cough, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie, and pulled back his arm moments later to reveal a bit of pink on the sleeve.

Steiner had given up on trying to hide the blood, it was too difficult for the young man to deal with the disgusting veins on his face, and the blood he was spewing from his mouth when he coughed. So, he chose to hide his face, and not try so hard to hide his bloody coughs. A waitress walked up to him, speaking the native language, and Steiner stared at her for a moment as he tried his best to reply to her. She laughed at him a bit, but then motioned for him to follow her, and he did so as she marched him over to a table by a window. He sat down with a thud and looked out the window as the waitress tried her best to speak English to Steiner, he tried to humor her as much as she had humored him before, but neither of them were gaining any traction. Eventually he would settle for a coffee, after all coffee was a universal thing, and most people drank it. She nodded her head, leaving the young man to contemplate what was going on around him.

Steiner instead of thinking about what was going on around him, which was bustling conversation in many different Russian dialects, went back over what was going on his life. Two weeks was all he had and the progression of his symptoms seemed to dictate that more than likely he would lose feeling in his left hand by tomorrow afternoon. The thought scared him and for a man who had been through so much, for him to be scared of that said something. In all honesty, he was beginning to come to terms with the fact that he would die soon, and that there was nothing he could do about it. He had fought to protect people, even though people in the medical world had told him to stop, he just couldn't do that, and had carried on regardless of what would happen to him later. Did he regret it? No. Steiner Franz didn't regret saving people and more importantly he didn't regret putting innocent lives above his own. It was unfair that he was dying, but at least he could enjoy the time he had left.

The coffee arrived not a moment too soon and Steiner began to prepare his cup just the way he liked it, two cream and three sugar as the bell to the shop rang out again causing Steiner to look toward the door.