"Standing room only," Yamanu confirmed. "I've got the camera ready."
"Good." Kian turned his attention to Tony, and for a moment, their eyes met. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been hit by a bus," Tony admitted. "But also like I could run a marathon. It's a strange combination."
Kian smiled. "That's exactly how it should feel. The exhaustion will pass. The energy won't." He stepped back, making room for Julian, who had appeared at the doorway with a surgical tray in his hands.
"Let's make it official, shall we?" Julian said.
On the tray sat a tiny surgical knife, barely more than a scalpel, and a few squares of sterile gauze. Nothing dramatic. Nothing frightening. Just the basic tools required to make a small cut and watch it heal.
"Everyone ready?" Julian asked.
A chorus of affirmations came from the waiting room. Shira squeezed Tony's hand, her grip warm and reassuring. Tula held up a stopwatch, her finger poised over the button. Yamanu adjusted the angle of his phone to capture the best shot.
"Let's do this." Tony extended his hand to Julian.
The doctor smiled. "Brave of you."
"Not really. I'm just eager to find out how fast I heal."
Julian took Tony's right hand and turned it palm up. "This will sting, but only for a moment."
Tony took a breath. Held it.
The knife moved faster than his eyes could follow—a flash of silver, a bright line of pain, and then it was over.
Julian's voice rang out clearly: "Now."
Tula clicked the stopwatch.
Blood welled up from the cut, a thin red line bisecting Tony's palm. Julian dabbed it away with the gauze, revealing the wound beneath, which was deeper than Tony had expected, deep enough that he could see the layers of tissue beneath the skin.
And then, as he watched, the wound began to close.
It was the strangest sensation he'd ever experienced. Not painful, but rather a tingling and pulling as his cells rushed to repair the damage. The edges of the cut drew together like a zipper being fastened, the raw flesh knitting itself whole, and the skin smoothing over as if the injury had never existed. All right before his eyes.
"That's incredible," Tony breathed.
"Keep watching," Julian said.
The last traces of the wound faded away, leaving only a faint pink line that, even as Tony watched, was returning to his natural skin tone. In a few more seconds, there was nothing left—no scar, no mark, no evidence that he had ever been cut at all.
"Time," Julian called.
Tula clicked the stopwatch and looked at the display. "Sixty-eight seconds."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Tony had no idea if that was good or bad, fast or slow, impressive or merely adequate.
"Congratulations," Julian said formally. "Welcome to immortality."
The waiting room erupted. Cheers and hoots and applause filled the space, bouncing off the walls and washing over Tony like a wave of warmth. People took turns entering his room and clapping him on the shoulder, shaking his hand, and offering congratulations and good wishes.
Shira leaned over and kissed him, soft and sweet, and the crowd whooped their approval.
"Was that considered fast?" Tony asked when the noise died down enough for him to be heard.
"It was pretty fast," Julian confirmed.
