Back on the floor with concrete beneath it, the severely injured George Stacy saw that mysterious figure he had encountered several times before.
He still could not make out the other man's expression, but this was hardly the time to worry about that.
Fully aware of his condition, George Stacy gave a bitter smile. "Looks like I'm going to die, friend." At a time like this, the old police officer seemed rather calm.
"You'll die sooner or later, but not today," Black Super replied simply.
"How could—what did you do?"
In the short time George Stacy had spent speaking, he realized that he had gone from sitting propped against a pillar to lying flat on the ground.
A violent pain shot through his chest and abdomen—but it only hurt for that instant. What remained was a strange numbness.
A bag of something, perhaps saline or glucose solution, had been taped to the nearby pillar. In any case, whatever was in that bag was flowing into his body through an IV tube and needle.
With difficulty, George Stacy lowered his head and discovered that his coat had been tossed aside and his clothing pulled open.
There were—stitches across his exposed chest and abdomen.
"What happened?" George Stacy asked the person who clearly knew what was going on.
"Your injuries were severe, but once the bleeding was stopped, dying wasn't so easy. I merely performed a simple operation and saved your life."
"In a place like this? I thought surgery had to be done in somewhere like a sterile operating room."
"Bacteria don't move as fast as my hands. Avoiding them or sterilizing them isn't difficult. The important thing is simply keeping outside germs from entering your body, isn't it?"
"What about the bleeding? The anesthesia?"
Black Super took out a clean