Frank Adler watched his wife bustle about the living room with some amusement. She was currently in the process of cleaning, which would be a completely normal thing to do. Ordinarily, that is. There was just one teeny, tiny little problem.

  "Honey, don't you think you're going a little overboard? This is the fourth time you've cleaned that room this week," Frank mentioned. His paper remained unread on the table while his coffee slowly cooled beside it. This would normally frustrate the man, as his need for caffeine typically outweighed anything else this early in the morning. But he did so love to watch his beautiful wife.

  She was currently dressed in an old pair of pants, one that clung to her frame in oh so tantalizing ways. The newspaper was far less interesting than his wife's derriere, and for the first time in a very long while, he didn't feel the need to drug himself silly with coffee to wake himself up.

  Joanna stopped what she was doing, turning to face her husband with a huff. Her shirt, a dirty old white thing, was raised up slightly, giving Frank a peek at his wife's fairly toned stomach.

  "I don't know how you can sit there so calm. Our son is coming home today! I have to make sure everything is perfect," she claimed.

  "I'm pretty sure you've already killed every last dust bunny in this house. And their families. Can't get much more perfect than that," Frank said teasingly, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee, making a displeased face as he did so. He liked his coffee black as the night and hot as hell.

  "That's a morbid way to look at it," Joanna said, but she had a small smile on her face nonetheless. Frank chuckled before he stood up, his tepid beverage no longer holding any interest whatsoever.

  "But it's not inaccurate. Tell me, what's bothering you?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her. Joanna sighed as she leaned into his touch, feeling some of the tension melt away.

  "It's just… a lot, you know? I keep thinking, what if it's not good enough? What if he doesn't like it here? What if he wants to leave? What if-" she started, her tone quickly becoming manic.

  "Shh-shh-shh… None of that now. You're worrying over nothing you know. I'm sure you've heard more than your share of complaints he's given about being in the hospital. I think he'll like being here a whole lot more than that," he said, gently swaying his hips, like they were dancing, with Joanna following along.

  "I can't argue with that. I think if he was stuck there any longer he might try and burn it down," she joked, getting a chuckle from the man. She had a small smile on her face as she felt the rumble in his chest.

  "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. I don't think our insurance would cover that," he said, making her choke out a laugh.

  "Our rates would go through the roof," she said.

  "You know, I have a better way to deal with stress," he said, a hint of mischief in his tone.

  "Oh, and what is that?" she asked.

  "This!" he yelled, before sweeping her up into his arms, making her squeal in surprise.

  "Frank, what are you doing!? Put me down right now!" she shouted. But it was clear from her smile that she didn't want to be anywhere else.

  "Oh, I'll put you down alright, just as soon as we get to the bedroom. This is the last time we'll have the house all to ourselves, and I'd like to make the most of it," he growled, making his wife shiver with need.

  "Well, don't keep me waiting. Take me stud," she purred, dragging a finger across his face. Now it was his turn to shiver.

  "Oh you asked for it now," he said, before quickly heading for the stairs. The two of them almost took a tumble as they were going up, far more preoccupied with making out like a pair of horny teenagers than anything else.

  *Line Break*

  Markus sighed as he waited in his room, staring at the clock as it constantly reminded him of how late his parents were. Seriously, what could be keeping them so long? Normally he wasn't averse to them being a bit late, enjoying his solitude, but not when he was finally getting out of here.

  Having nothing better to do, he started fiddling with the Computation Jewel he was trusted with. Without this thing, he likely wouldn't be getting out of the hospital so soon. After having it for a few months and feeling the way it helped manipulate his mana, he had a better understanding of how it worked.

  Not to mention being told what they were based on, the Differential Analyzer. Something he was only vaguely aware of existing in his previous world. It was a rudimentary analogue computer used to solve differential equations.

  Thankfully, that knowledge wasn't classified and he was able to get his hands on a few books, thanks in part to his father. From there it helped him understand the little devices on a basic, rudimentary level. But as nice as the knowledge was, he couldn't help but feel like he was being tested.

  He certainly wouldn't put it past such a militaristic nation to do something like that. Hell, he'd be more surprised if they didn't. Even so, it proved invaluable.

  Seeing as his parents still weren't here yet, he decided to look at his Stats. Willing the translucent screen into existence, he stared at the numbers in front of him. None of his personal Stats had changed, unfortunately. He was still a weak child after all. But once he was out of this place and could move about without being under constant supervision, he hoped that would increase.

  If not, he'd just have to wait until puberty reeled its ugly head. He was not looking forward to acne again. No siree.

  But that was future Mark's problem. Right now, present Mark had his own shit to deal with. His time within the walls of this sterilized prison hadn't been totally wasted as far as his game was concerned, as he had made slight progress in a few Talents, such as Magical Control, which he gained a single Tier in, reaching it last week.

  It was strange, the difference it made. You'd think that by spending the time required to actually raise the Talent up a Tier, you wouldn't notice the improvement the Tier level actually gave. But that couldn't be further from the truth. It was like night and day.

  Take his Medical Formula Talent for example. With it being at Tier 1, he could easily use it for basic first aid and muscle recovery, which is what was intended in the first place. But just by getting the Magical Control Talent to Tier 1, the amount of mana he used for the Formula was noticeably less. Normally he'd feel a bit fatigued from using it, but not now.

  That didn't mean he could use his magic willy-nilly, but he could use it more, and with more efficiency. Not only did it take less mana to perform the Formula, but it was also more effective. Not enough that it was at another Tier or anything, but it was still something to take note of.

  Beyond that he was also able to get the Rapid Recovery Perk, which increased the speed in which he healed from injuries or illness by 10%. He wasn't Wolverine by any means, but it was still a nice little bonus to have. Too bad he didn't get it until he was completely recovered already. He could have been out of here a couple of weeks ago if he had.

  Along with that he had gained a decent number of points to spend. Ninety, in fact. He was planning on using them to purchase the Photographic Memory Perk for 75 Points. He had decided on that Perk first due to all the studying he's been doing while in the hospital. He had learned some techniques to make studying more effective while in college, but he wouldn't need that all if he could just remember everything.

  He could purchase it now, of course, but he decided to wait until he was all alone. He had no idea what would happen once he bought the thing. Would it hurt? Or would it be painless? Would he pass out? Or would there be no change at all? He didn't know, and felt it was better to wait until he was ready to sleep. That way if he had to scream, he could do so into a pillow. And if he passed out, well, he would already be in bed.

  Beyond that, there wasn't much he cared to buy. At least, not yet. Better to just accumulate the points for now. Looking out the window, Markus saw his parent's car pulling up.

  "About time," he thought, watching them get out. His father looked far too pleased with himself for his liking, while his mother was practically glowing. Just what were they up to to have such satisfied looks on their-

  Oh…

  Gross.

  *Line Break*

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  "Thank you for everything doctor, truly," Frank said, shaking the man's hand. Mark was certain that if he did so any harder, the older man's arm would come right off. Being an active duty member of the military, Frank was in excellent shape.

  "Of course, Mr. Adler, it was my pleasure," Dr. Eckhart said, his voice wobbly from the handshake.

  "I don't know how I can ever thank you for taking such good care of our son," Joanna said, giving the doctor a hug. Now he looked like he was about to pop, his face turning an interesting shade of blue. His mother may not have been in the military, at least, not anymore, but she was still pretty darn strong.

  "Mother, perhaps you should let him go before we're forced to go on the run for murder. He's starting to turn purple," Markus said, making the woman release her hold on the man.

  "Oops, sorry," she apologized as he took in gulps of air. For a second there, he thought he saw his dearly departed wife, beckoning him to the other side from across a river.

  "It's fine, Mrs. Adler. Just try and remember I'm an old man," he joked, getting a sheepish look from Joanna.

  "Anyway, I think it's time for you all to leave. I don't think I've ever had a patient I was so sorry to see go but so happy they're leaving," Eckhart said.

  "Don't worry doc, I'm sure we'll see each other again," Markus said.

  "As happy as that would make me, let's hope not. I'd rather not see you in the hospital ever again," he said, giving a rueful chuckle.

  "I didn't mean as a patient. I could always just visit to bug you, you know," Mark said, making all of them chuckle. Not that he ever intended to, but he figured it was nice to offer.

  "Well in that case I welcome the company. Now, let's see about getting you discharged, shall we?" he said, getting eager looks from all parties involved.

  "I couldn't agree more. Come on, let's go," Frank said, wrapping an arm around his wife and son. One looked positively over the moon while the other had a look of resigned acceptance.

  "Ah, before that," Echart said, grabbing the wheelchair assigned to Mark during his stay. Said child looked at him with an expression that said, "really?"

  "Sorry, hospital rules," Eckhart said with a grin. Markus groaned before sitting down in the chair grumpily. "Fine, but don't let my mother drive."

  "What why!?" she asked indignantly.

  "You know what you did mother," he replied.

  "...Fair enough."

  The group made their way to the entrance of the hospital, with Frank pushing his son in the wheelchair. It wasn't his first time doing this, having spent as much time as he could with his son during his recovery, but he hoped it would be his last. Seeing Mark in a wheelchair was not a good feeling.

  Joanna walked beside them with a small pout at not being able to steer her son. Just because she sent him into the wall a time or two, or nearly pushed him down the stairs, and once into the elevator, didn't mean she couldn't handle it.

  But she wasn't too bothered by this fact, considering he would be coming home. Oh, she hoped he liked it. She kept his room just the way it was, never touching a thing. Actually, given his personality shift, he probably wouldn't like it as much. Oh well, that just means they would have to do a little redecorating.

  Which meant shopping!

  "Ok, now if you two would just sign here, you're free to go," Dr. Eckhart said, handing them a piece of paper. Mark frowned as they signed it without reading it, feeling doing so was rather foolish. Who knows what they could actually be agreeing to. If they just sold him to a sweatshop in this world's China, he was going to be pissed.

  "That should just about do it. You are officially your parents' problem once again," Eckhart joked. Markus rolled his eyes at the attempt at humor, but his father at least found it amusing.

  "I'll make sure to drive them insane, doc. That way they can come and be your problem," Markus said, completely monotone, getting a full belly laugh from the man.

  "I hate to tell you this, but I don't deal with the psych ward all that much. But I appreciate the thought."

  With that, Markus was finally released from the hospital. He shook his head as his mother gave Eckhart some more cookies, looking like she was making a drug deal. Thankfully, cameras haven't reached the stage where they could be used for security purposes yet, so there was no chance of someone getting their hand on the footage and doctoring it to blackmail his father.

  He didn't think it would feel so good to step outside. Sure it wasn't the first time during his rehabilitation that he was allowed into the great outdoors, but this time it was different. This time, he wouldn't be going back inside.

  He was finally free.

  The family of three made their way towards their vehicle, with his parents making sure he was belted in tight. Mark sighed at this overprotectiveness, but he supposed he couldn't really blame them. He was leaving the hospital for the first time in about a year and a half, give or take. Some caution was warranted.

  "Alright, ready to head home?" Frank asked, smiling at his family. It felt good to have everyone together. For the longest time, he didn't think it would be possible, that the last trip he would take with them all together would be in a hearse. He was glad to be proven wrong.

  "More than ready. Just drive carefully," Joanna said.

  "I agree. I would rather not return to the hospital so soon because you decided to drive recklessly," Mark commented, looking out the window. Frank had fake, crocodile tears streaming down his face as he started the car up.

  "My own family doesn't trust my driving…"

  "There, there," his wife soothed, rubbing his back. But the snickering painted a very different story than what her tone of voice suggested.

  "Oh, honey…" he sniffled, staring into his wife's eyes.

  "If you two start making out, I'm walking," Mark said from the back seat, his tone about as lifeless as one could imagine. He had no desire whatsoever to see his parents of this world act like horny teenagers.

  "Oh come on son, we're just expressing our love for one another," his father said, a big smirk on his face.

  "Please express it when I am not in the vicinity, if you don't mind. I would like to avoid mental trauma for as long as possible," he replied, getting a chuckle from the older man.

  "You'll understand someday, when you have a beautiful wife of your own," he said, backing out of the parking spot. Their home was a good twenty minute drive, give or take, as they were a bit out in the country. His father enjoyed the peace and quiet it provided, as did his mother.

  "But that day better not be anytime soon, you hear?" Joanna said, giving her son a stern look. Markus only rolled his eyes, "I make no promises mother."

  "Oh Frank, did you hear that? He's planning to run away with some two-bit, home wrecking hussy," she cried out, getting confused looks from both male occupants.

  "Uh, sweetheart, I don't think that's what he said," Frank said, rather uneasily.

  "Are you calling me a liar?" she snapped back, hotly.

  "Nope, not me! Son, do not run off with any hussies, understand?" he said in a stern, yet frightened tone.

  "Not really, but ok," Mark replied, bored.

  "Good," his father said. They continued to travel along the well kept roads, but it was somewhat slow going, given that there were more demonstrators out and about, screaming nonsense about going to war.

  Fools. If they knew how high the price of a modern war was, they wouldn't be so eager to pick a fight. He wondered what this looked like on the world stage. It could certainly be used as propaganda against the Empire, if their enemies were smart about it.

  Not his problem, he supposed, at least not yet. There was little he could do about it anyway. His hands idly played with the Computation Jewel in his hands, having become somewhat of a nervous habit.

  As they passed by the protestors, Markus saw someone in an alley. It was a young blonde girl, about his own age, with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. She was wearing a long sleeved brown shirt, with a dirty white dress that went down to her ankles. Both garments looked like they've seen better days.

  Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and Markus saw her give him a look of curiosity before the moment passed, her form being blocked by all the rabid Imperial citizens. And no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't catch a glimpse of her.

  "What are you looking at sweetie?" his mother asked, turning to give him a look of curiosity.

  "Nothing, mother. Nothing at all."

  *Line Break*

  "So, this is it then? The accepted proposal?" asked Brigadier General Rudersdorf, once more sitting across from his longtime friend. He held up a piece of paper in his hands, skimming the contents. He had no desire to read the whole blasted thing after all. It was nearly 500 pages long! He had far better things to do with his time.

  "Indeed it is. I take it you didn't read it?" his friend and fellow Brigadier General, Hans von Zettour asked. Though his tone of voice suggested he already knew the answer, he question was mostly to tease his less than studious companion.

  "Just give me the rundown," Rudersdorf demanded, not answering the question. Zettour chuckled, picking up the proposed legislation and giving it a once over.

  "As you wish. Most of our ideas were accepted with minimal haggling. Seems like the military and the bureaucrats are on the same page for once," Zettour said, his eyes rapidly reading the words on the sheet.

  "Hmph, about damn time. Our enemies are nipping at our heels, no need for us to be at each other's throats," Rudersdorf said.

  "I agree. But it seems like they decided to add some addendums to our proposal as well. The biggest one is removing the age restriction of enlistment for those with sufficient magical aptitude," Zettour said, with a frown. Sure they wanted to introduce legislation that would create an education program for kids to fast track them into an officer's position, but that was only when they were adults.

  "Child soldiers huh? Wonder where they got that idea from?" Rudersdorf said wryly. It wasn't exactly a secret that they wanted to get their hands on a certain someone whose magical aptitude test broke every record in the Empire.

  "Where indeed. But if they think Admiral Adler is just going to hand over his child, they're in for a rude awakening I believe," Zettour said, placing the paper down.

  "I'd be more afraid of his wife if I were them," Rudersdorf said, making Zettour chuckle. "Too true my friend, too true."

  The two sat there in companionable silence, thinking about the future of the Fatherland, until one of them broke it.

  "So tell me, how soon until the program gets initiated?" Rudersdorf asked.

  "Hmm, let's see… I believe it will start next semester. They've already hired plenty of veterans to get the program underway," Zettour said, rubbing his chin in thought.

  "That fast huh? Guess those pencil pusher's are good for something after all," said the larger man. Normally getting something like this set up would take years. Endless debates and red tape blocking their every move. But now, with the outcry of the people demanding war, they seem to ignore all that. Maybe they're hoping it will appease them, even if it's only for a short while.

  "There's a first time for everything. Let's hope it all goes smoothly," Zettour said, reaching into one of his drawers and pulling out a bottle.

  "Oh, the good stuff," his friend said, watching as a pair of glasses were set onto the table. Zettour then opened the bottle, taking a moment to enjoy the aroma, before pouring the two of them a glass.

  "What can I say, this is a cause for celebration. While I don't agree with removing the age limit for mages, getting the Junior Officers' Training Corps up and running so quickly is a good thing," Zettour claimed, sliding one of the glasses towards his friend.

  "You don't have to convince me to have a drink," Rudersdorf claimed.

  "No, I don't suppose I do," Zettour said with a chuckle, holding up his glass. "To the Reich."

  "To the Fatherland," his friend said, the two of them clinking glasses together. Neither one knew what the future would bring, but they were certain war was on the horizon. Perhaps, with this new initiative, they would be in a better position when the shit hits the fan.

  One could only hope.