Steve breathed in sharply as he snapped back to real life. He felt bile rising in his throat. It was a good thing that the TP units were corrupted, for now. He sprinted through there bodies, as they slowly regenerated.

He slammed into the door of his duplex apartment. He ran in and didn’t even bother taking his suit off. He ran to the bathroom, threw off the mask and vomited corn chunks and rasberry yogurt.

“Uuggfswsow,” he managed to say. Mr. Mann, who lived above him, came down the steps, zipping up a suit. “You all right there Stewart?” he blurbed.

“Steve,”

“Yeah. right.”

“I’m fine, just great.”

“Okey dokey. I’m goin’ out. See ya in a bit. I’ll be pickin’ up some groceries. Need anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks”

“Right. Adios amigos’”

Why did he have to be so happy? It wasn’t usually bad to be so happy. But when your one of the unlucky bums left in the ruins of New York, while everyone else left 200 years ago; Steve just didn’t know how you could be happy.*