Dst – Rebirth (1/2)

Fog.

“..restrain her, we don’t want any interruptions to the..”

Haze.

“..prepared for modification.. ..remake the Discord Unit..”

Pain.

“..adjust the genetic structure radically.. ..rebirth of form..”

*Darkness*

“..project code Contrary..”

*****

She breathes in sharply, awareness crashing in upon her in a flash of images and sound, muddling her thoughts in confusion. She tries to sit up.. move, but feels her arms and legs immobile. Quickly disorientation is replaced by rage, a deep growl rolling from her throat, thrashing against the bonds. She is unprepared for them to suddenly give, momentum of struggle sending her over an edge, falling to a floor heavily.

Lying on the cold flood, dazed, she slowly opens her eyes. White, with blurry shades of grey show before her eyes. Her mind slowly pulls together her awareness, exploiting the information given by reawakening senses.

Cold.

She shivers faintly, feeling no cloth protect her from the room’s chill. But the sensation is a mere annoyance. Her vision clears somewhat, blots of gray sharpening into objects. A counter against a sterile white wall. Beside her a thick based table.. examination table. The place unfamiliar.. her thoughts encountering a void. She knows not who she is. She shakes her head, letting it sag down. Breath catching when she sees her arms populated with a dusky gray fur. She knows not what she is..

Feeling determination rise in the face of mystery, she carefully tries to rise, unsteady at first as she slides wobbly legs under her. She balances into a crouch, her vision clearing to show her her surroundings. Clean, white surfaces, coldly beeping instruments, gleaming silver tools and other alien looking hardware.

She has to reach out to the table she was on to get to her feet, knees shaking as she leans against the edge of the table, surveying the clinically clean room. Inexplicably, she feels a cool dread in the pit of her stomach as the location settles in. A lab.. GED. A term she doesn’t understand fixes itself in her mind. Even so, it sparks off anxiety.

She has to leave. She isn’t sure why, but she has to leave.

Focusing on that inexplicable urge, she finds the strength to stagger toward the one door that leads out of this room. She reaches out toward the counter beside it to still her ungainly stumble, She leans forward slightly, pausing a moment, her eyes catching upon a shiny object on the counter before her. A small mirror, which tosses back her image.

An image of a dusky furred canine.. something.. She lifts a hand to lightly touch the muzzle she just now recognizes as part of her face, fingers shifting to feel sharp teeth within. Though the image is strange, it didn’t feel alien.. it feels.. natural.

The door beside her opens and she looks up, into the bespectacled face of a human male. Getting over their shock at the same time, each reacts in a radically different way. He gasps and tries to flee, while she growls and lunges. Strange, incoherent rage motivates her to attack him, grasping one of his shoulders savagely before yanking him back into the room, the power of her pull sending him toppling back with a startled cry.

She is on him before he can escape, the door silently slipping closed of its own volition. Before she can fathom what she is doing, he is dead and she is splattered in his blood. A strange dichotomy of satisfaction and disgust wells up within her as she stares down at the savaged body, tasting his blood on her tongue. She shook on the twin points of emotion, shivering where she kneels for a time.

Until a pragmatic instinct kicks in. Her head shoots up, looking toward the door that the man had come through. Another could come, she reasons warily. She lurches to her feet, the rush of adrenaline having burned away the haze and confusion if not the lack of memories. The empty space in her head was disconcerting, but she thrusts that aside, focusing on the things she knows.

She has to leave.

Unmindful of the red spatter on it, she rips the white coat off the dead man’s body and throws it on, a slight improvement on her unclothed state, and opens the only door slowly.

The hallway is empty.

She slides out quietly, letting the door glide closed as she stalks purposefully down the hallway. At first, nothing seems familiar. The halls are similar, with sterile white walls and nondescript doors with tiny plaques beside them bearing the only identification of difference between them. Twice she is forced to quickly enter a random door, evading passing people. One room beyond is empty, save for equipment she cares nothing for. The second time she enters a patient room, the man in the only bed remaining asleep until she leaves.

Gradually another urge tugs at her. Beginning to adjust to the strangeness of instinctive urges, she gives in to it, gradually feeling a familiarity as she works her way through the lab… hospital.. clinic? She doesn’t know. Nor does she know where she is going. Until she arrives, a door calling out to her. She slips in carefully, glancing about for mobile bodies before she shuts the door fully.

Turning around, she focuses on the contents of the room. And is suddenly struck by an intense memory. The sleek, black motorcycle that is at the back of the storage room burns into the black wall of her amnesia, letting a flood of disconnected images overwhelm her. She barely manages to keep from crying out as the spike of pain through her temple sends her to her knees. Slowly the images slowed, then stopped altogether, the pain fading with it. She breathes deeply, hands clutched over her temples as if to ensure her brain remained within her head.

Slowly she lifted her eyes toward the machine. She knows it was hers.. and she knows what it was. How to.. work it. She rises and stumbles toward it, fingers clutching at the fragment of her unknown life. She focuses upon it almost instinctively, feeling a fragment of herself pass into it. The motorbike comes alive, its’ engine powering on with a rolling whirr. The sound resonating in her mind so sharply that she nearly loses control again.

But she holds herself together, embracing the fragment of completion. Yet the pull is still not quite complete. She feels compelled to look further. She mentally shuts down the black bike, without fully realizing it, rising to explore the remainder of the room. It is moderately sized, with high, thin windows and two areas. One, toward one end, where various vehicles are parked. The other filled with row upon row of heavy shelves that are packed with boxes.