Where am I?
Light filtered in through his closed eyes, but that was nothing new. There had been little except for light for a long time after all. Something was definitely different about the light however. What was it? He refused to open his eyes yet. Opening his eyes never lead to anything good.
What do I remember? Pain, loss, the usual. A watch or something. Being told I was a failure and they were getting rid of me. As if I wanted to be used by them in the first place. A gun. Dying? I'm obviously not dead though. So what happened?
Sounds distracted him from his thoughts, sounds that seemed out of place. A rustling of...not cloth. Movement of something. Not to mention that scent, a scent that was bothering him. It seemed so familiar but he couldn't quite place it. Such a comforting scent on the air...wait a moment.
Fresh air?
In a flash his eyes were open, taking in the surroundings. Surroundings filled with green, with nature, with fresh air and sunlight. He was outside. He was free. Or was he? This could just be a trick after all. They might be trying to trick him after all. Thinking of it, who were 'they'? For that matter, and more importantly, who was he? The thought sent the man into a slight panic, pain flashing through his head as he looked around for anything to remind himself. A pack of some sort was on the ground next to him, one filled with very impersonal seeming objects. None of it had anything to truly identify him. There was a...bullet, maybe, nearby on the ground. One that had obviously been used and was covered in blood. Plus it was uncomfortably close to where his head had been. Like in the memory of him being shot. Except he wasn't dead, and people died when shot in the head. So what had happened?
Deciding to check himself, he soon enough discovered things in his pockets. One was a pack of cigarettes. Unopened. How had that gotten there? The other was a black lighter. A Zippo with a name engraved on it. Kieran Wilder. Just looking at it gave him flashes of memory. Faces, people, even with no names attached. The name itself felt right. It was his. What about the rest though? How did his lighter end up in his pocket, when he did remember being a prisoner of sorts before?
Slowly, Kieran turned back towards the used bullet in the dirt near him. As insane as it sounded, that little bit of metal seemed like the source of his current problems. Assuming his memory, or dream, was true then he had been shot in the head and somehow survived, even if his memories were to a large extent either gone or fragmented. That could hopefully be regained over time however. For now? Kieran knew he still had to figure out where he was and how to actually survive in the middle of nowhere with no memories. Huh. For that matter, what did he even look like? Dark hair, black from what he could tell. Long, shoulder length. He had fairly thick stubble too from what he could feel. Body wise he felt pretty average, but without ways to compare and with no clear memories he couldn't really judge. Kieran would have gone further in trying to figure this out, but then the sound of movement happened again, and much closer. Startled, he looked up and in the direction of the sound.
I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.
The person(?) standing in front of him was most definitely not human. Right number of limbs, and in the right places, but last he checked humans didn't have horns. Even his faulty memory remembered that much. He could dwell on that later though. More important to his immediate future was the bow aimed directly at him, drawn, with the horned man(?) obviously threatening. Carefully picking up the pack, and thankful the lighter and cigarettes were already back in his pockets, Kieran slowly began to back away from the being. Until he tripped backwards over a tree root just in time to have an arrow pass through where his throat has just been. Alright, it was definitely time to panic. Not to mention time to pick himself up and run through the trees as fast as he could away from the angry being. Hopefully he wouldn't get shot in the back, though the fact that he quite literally felt an arrow pass right by his face wasn't inspiring. Was he bleeding now? Yes, Kieran decided, he was. This did not look good.
"Where the hell am I?"
"XR9," Came a response in a vaguely mechanical voice. A response from his wrist of all places. The hell? The wristband or watch continued, even as he kept running. "Tropical. Air: Breathable by Subject. Arrival State: Caution."
Right. Caution. A bit late for that warning, thanks. Though that gave me far more questions than answers. I'll worry about it if I survive.
Oh, if only he knew. He would figure it out eventually though.
Light filtered in through his closed eyes, but that was nothing new. There had been little except for light for a long time after all. Something was definitely different about the light however. What was it? He refused to open his eyes yet. Opening his eyes never lead to anything good.
What do I remember? Pain, loss, the usual. A watch or something. Being told I was a failure and they were getting rid of me. As if I wanted to be used by them in the first place. A gun. Dying? I'm obviously not dead though. So what happened?
Sounds distracted him from his thoughts, sounds that seemed out of place. A rustling of...not cloth. Movement of something. Not to mention that scent, a scent that was bothering him. It seemed so familiar but he couldn't quite place it. Such a comforting scent on the air...wait a moment.
Fresh air?
In a flash his eyes were open, taking in the surroundings. Surroundings filled with green, with nature, with fresh air and sunlight. He was outside. He was free. Or was he? This could just be a trick after all. They might be trying to trick him after all. Thinking of it, who were 'they'? For that matter, and more importantly, who was he? The thought sent the man into a slight panic, pain flashing through his head as he looked around for anything to remind himself. A pack of some sort was on the ground next to him, one filled with very impersonal seeming objects. None of it had anything to truly identify him. There was a...bullet, maybe, nearby on the ground. One that had obviously been used and was covered in blood. Plus it was uncomfortably close to where his head had been. Like in the memory of him being shot. Except he wasn't dead, and people died when shot in the head. So what had happened?
Deciding to check himself, he soon enough discovered things in his pockets. One was a pack of cigarettes. Unopened. How had that gotten there? The other was a black lighter. A Zippo with a name engraved on it. Kieran Wilder. Just looking at it gave him flashes of memory. Faces, people, even with no names attached. The name itself felt right. It was his. What about the rest though? How did his lighter end up in his pocket, when he did remember being a prisoner of sorts before?
Slowly, Kieran turned back towards the used bullet in the dirt near him. As insane as it sounded, that little bit of metal seemed like the source of his current problems. Assuming his memory, or dream, was true then he had been shot in the head and somehow survived, even if his memories were to a large extent either gone or fragmented. That could hopefully be regained over time however. For now? Kieran knew he still had to figure out where he was and how to actually survive in the middle of nowhere with no memories. Huh. For that matter, what did he even look like? Dark hair, black from what he could tell. Long, shoulder length. He had fairly thick stubble too from what he could feel. Body wise he felt pretty average, but without ways to compare and with no clear memories he couldn't really judge. Kieran would have gone further in trying to figure this out, but then the sound of movement happened again, and much closer. Startled, he looked up and in the direction of the sound.
I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.
The person(?) standing in front of him was most definitely not human. Right number of limbs, and in the right places, but last he checked humans didn't have horns. Even his faulty memory remembered that much. He could dwell on that later though. More important to his immediate future was the bow aimed directly at him, drawn, with the horned man(?) obviously threatening. Carefully picking up the pack, and thankful the lighter and cigarettes were already back in his pockets, Kieran slowly began to back away from the being. Until he tripped backwards over a tree root just in time to have an arrow pass through where his throat has just been. Alright, it was definitely time to panic. Not to mention time to pick himself up and run through the trees as fast as he could away from the angry being. Hopefully he wouldn't get shot in the back, though the fact that he quite literally felt an arrow pass right by his face wasn't inspiring. Was he bleeding now? Yes, Kieran decided, he was. This did not look good.
"Where the hell am I?"
"XR9," Came a response in a vaguely mechanical voice. A response from his wrist of all places. The hell? The wristband or watch continued, even as he kept running. "Tropical. Air: Breathable by Subject. Arrival State: Caution."
Right. Caution. A bit late for that warning, thanks. Though that gave me far more questions than answers. I'll worry about it if I survive.
Oh, if only he knew. He would figure it out eventually though.
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