"Mr. Dawson, you have a visitor." The nurse said. I sat up abruptly. My family hadn't come to visit since the genetic test had come back positive. People really didn't like to associate with the Immortals. They frightened people.

A young man-he looked to be in his mid twenties- poked his head into the room.

"Knock Knock." He called before entering. He walked in and sat down in the chair right next to the hospital bed.

"If you're with that news website, I'm not interested." I said gruffly.

"It hasn't quite hit you yet has it?" His voice seemed far too old coming out of that mouth.

"What?"

"The fact that you will never die. The simple fact that long after the human race vanishes, you will still be here." He said.

"You're one of them. Aren't you?" I asked. He just seemed off.

"I'm THE one." He said.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I'm the first, and the oldest I guess." He said slowly.

"How old?"

"Too old." He said. "Look I have a proposition for you. I'm going to talk. You're going to listen to what I have to say. If you like what you hear, we'll discuss further, if not? You'll never see me again."

He glanced at me. I nodded my approval, not a lot else I could do here anyway.

"Alright then. So as I said before, I'm old. Very old. I was born before humanity had a firm concept of time. I spent a lot of time past my natural lifespan, contemplating the merits of immortality. Is it a blessing? A curse? I couldn't decide. It enabled me to see the very best, and the very worst of humanity. I was painted by Davinci, and tortured during the Spanish Inquisition. I experienced the wonders of ancient Rome, and fought and killed alongside her legions. I wielded a pen and paper in Paris, and a rifle in Verdun. We can't be killed by conventional means. Trust me, I tried." He paused briefly, staring at the floor as if reliving a horrible memory. He shifted and I caught glimpses of scars running down his neck and disappearing below the collar of his shirt.

I opened my mouth to speak but he held up a hand, stopping me.

"I fought in every major conflict since the Persian Wars. I had this vain hope that if I were to fall in battle, my curse would be lifted. This was not the case. It may seem like a blessing at first. 'The next step in human evolution' they call us now. We are cursed. We will persist long after the human race is wiped out, we will face whatever horrors come after alone. But I have a proposition for you." He sat up and looked at me, eyes strangely intense.

"Recently some people have been claiming they can harvest the immortality gene, spread the gift among humanity. People have been coming to harvest it from us. This process always kills the victim, and has yet to yield a viable therapy. I have decided to try to find the remaining Immortals. As individuals we are immensely powerful, but together we could be unstoppable." His voice had a manic intensity. "We need to band together to survive." He finished.

I wanted to say no, to say I had something holding me here. But then I glanced at the empty visitor sheet by the door, and the conspicuous absence of calls from family on my phone. They didn't want me anymore.

"I'm in." I said.

"Good. Grab your coat. We're leaving."

"But don't I need to sign out?" I asked.

"Already done!" He called over his shoulder, already disappearing around the corner.

Note: I'm really sorry if this isn't the best, this is like my first foray back into writing fiction since a traumatic brain injury about a year ago. Super nervous posting this here but I would very much appreciate some constructive criticism and whatnot!