G- Medbay: Andrew Tate - How To Be A

But lying in a Medbay, with a fever cooking his brain, he felt no defiance. The Matrix, it turned out, didn’t need to fight you. It just needed you to get a common rhinovirus. The great machine of the universe didn’t send assassins; it sent a low-grade fever and a sore throat, and the great Andrew Tate was reduced to a shivering lump under a hospital blanket.

He closed his eyes. For a moment, he wasn’t the Top G. He was just Emory, a kid from Chicago who used to be scared of the dark. The one who started kickboxing because he was lonely, not because he wanted to dominate. The one who thought that if he just got rich enough, loud enough, hard enough, he’d never have to feel small again. Andrew Tate - How to Be a G- Medbay

The beep of the monitor slowed as his pulse relaxed. But lying in a Medbay, with a fever

He fell asleep to the sound of his own fragile, human breathing. The great machine of the universe didn’t send