POV: Osric Caelestis
My head hurt.
It felt like my first hangover. That headache had me in bed for the whole day. I shifted in my bed but, ended up failing out of it to the cold floor. My whole body hurt too like I had been in a fight for my life. I leaned on my bed except what greeted me wasn't soft sheets but, a cold slab of stone. My brain was lagging but, I knew this wasn't my room nor was it the last place I remember being.
It was a dark room with pathetic lighting and no window. The walls were a depressing shade of grey that made the room feel even colder. The chill in the room hit me then. I rubbed my arms to warm myself while thinking of what could have gotten me here. My head was a jumbled mess and I wasn't even sure if what I was thinking I did last night was what happened. There was this haze in my head that made thinking a chore. It felt like I a building was dropped on me.
There was noise from outside the room. Someone pushed the door open and I shielded my eyes from the light with my hand.
"Get up" said the emotionless voice. It was who looked to be in his early twenties, my age but, he had a severe expression that didn't suit his age. He was in a grey double breasted military uniform with an assault rifle slung over his left shoulder. His knee high military boots managed to shine even in this dim light. He stopped forward and nudged me with his foot "Get up."
My body felt larger and far heavier than I remembered it being so when I tried to stand up all I managed was to fall back down. I let out a frustrated groan that irritated the guard. He hauled me to my feet with such force it startled me. He pushed my out of the cell and I had literally remember how to use my legs. With the brighter lighting of the corridor I was able to examine myself better. Filthy was the word I would use. My boots were scuffed, soaked and dirty. There where tribal like tattoos running along each of my arms and this confirmed it. This wasn't my body. A shove from the guard brought me back to reality.
"Where am I?" I asked. My voice was raspy like I hadn't used it for a long time. The took his time to respond. "Fort Ildris" that wasn't a fort I knew. The haze in my head was clearing and some of my memories where becoming clearer. For the rest of our walk along this endless grey corridor. It seemed I had been in the holding cells. For what? I didn't know but, the straight faces told me it wasn't anything good. Fear was slowly rising from within me. We came to a stop in front of of a gate. The guard punched in a code and the door opened. He nudged me forward then left to a set of stairs. There were more signs of life on this floor as people, mostly dressed in grey were running around.
This was a military base I concluded. Not in my world too. The guard put a hand on my shoulder and directed me forward in the crowd. The people around us didn't pay any attention to us at all. Something else was happening that had all these people on edge. Just what the hell is going on?
The hand on my shoulder directed me to a door to my left that opened to reveal an interrogation room. He shoved me down into a chair, cuffed my hands to a metal rail on the table and left. The cuffs were thicker than I was used too. A blue light on the lights flickered on that sent a jolt into me. The haze in my head started returning. The room was small and grey as wall all things around here. I looked to my right and found a reflective glass that allowed me to finally get a good look at myself.
I had long wavy gunmetal silver hair that ended at the base of my neck. My face was just as filthy as the rest of my body with small cuts and bruises. Dark storm grey eyes met my own in the reflection. I had on what was supposed to be a white shirt but, it was too filthy to be white anymore. The door opened and walked in a man in a black military uniform. He had a cigar in hand, cold blue eyes and a face mapped with scars. Behind him followed a woman with short black hair and glasses. She wore a lab coat and had files tucked underneath her right arm. They both sat in front of me while the woman settled down.
"We are having a lot of trouble identifying you. Mind telling us who you are?" began the man.
"I don't remember who I am" I said. The two shared a look before they turned to me again "We found you at a fiend trafficking ring and we have reason to believe you killed everyone there, including the fiends" Fiends, what the hell is that?
"Look, I don't remember who I am or what happened. My earliest memories are of me in your cell."
"He might be telling the truth Stig" said the woman slowly. Stig glared at her and she continued "I mean from the report his supposed to be dead. He had numerous stab wounds, lost a lot of blood and not to mention survived an explosion. On top of that, fiends."
Stig got up from his chair and I never saw the fist coming. It struck my jaw with an audible crack and my head whipped from the force. That is sure to fix my amnesia. The pain was immense.
"Was that necessary? You probably made it worse" said the woman as she came to check up on me. "I believe he is telling the truth"
Stigs snorted "He needs some motivation to remember that's all, doctor" he cracked his knuckles for emphasis. She waved him away.
"If he doesn't remember anything then this is pointless. We should focus on other angles that could help identify him instead" she took out papers from her file "Fiends are creatures that exist on a different frequency from each other, they release a signal due to their energy. Around the time of the explosion there were two frequencies we recorded" she pointed to a chart on the table "One was the category 4 fiend and the other should be you" she sounded unsure of the last part which further increased the fear building up in me. "What?"
She considered answering for a while, "We use these energy readings to identify and locate fiends. The same applies for humans infused with fiends but, your energy signature is nothing I have ever seen."
"Your professional opinion doctor?" asked an irritated Stigs. She rubbed her chin for a second then responded, "Category 6 and above at best" Stigs visibly tensed besides me then growled "I don't sense anything from him"
"That's the other anomaly" she packed her files and locked eyes with me "We will need to run some more tests to be sure but, I doubt we would be able to come up with anything. I've sent your weapons to be identified maybe they will give us a lead on you" the doctor gave me a tense nod then left. Not a few seconds later another tanned woman walked in. She was dressed in all black and looked like a Tom Clancy character. She had large brown eyes and messy brown hair styled in a bun. A sword was latched on your back.
"Well" she drawled in a Texan accent "You have an interesting case on your hands Captain" she drew the sword and placed it on the table and a large black revolver.
"What can you tell me about the weapons, Kris?" Said Stigs as he came for a closer look.
She rubbed her hands excitedly "Their two stories to both weapons. What would you like to start with?" . Stigs waved angrily at the weapons "Answers. Now" he growled.
"Well" she said grabbing the sword. The sword was had a black hilt. It had a demonic skull at the center of the guard. The blade itself was unnaturally long which added to its air of creepiness. Even Stigs eyed it warily. Kris held it like a baby "This sir is the long lost Mephisto. This beauty was lost over sixty years ago in the battle of New York and was never seen again. This means that either traffickers ventured into fiend territory and retrieved or he was"
"He could be a trafficker" said Stigs an I created as much distance between him and the cuffs would allow. Which wasn't much.
"Because of this" Kris then lifted the large revolver and unloaded it. "This is our work not that of traffickers. Pretty neat work as well" She was turning it over in her hands and examining it "They are no files on it which means it was most probably a prototype or personal work. There's a name on on one of the barrels. It's called the Ignis" she pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger. The gun released an empty click in response "Made from the shell of a fiend too" she remarked as she put the gun down.
"Chances of him being one of us?" asked Stigs.
"Very high" responded Kris.
"Have you started a search"
"Facial recognition is a total bust. We don't have his name, so nothing. The sword is a no go and aside from the name on the gun, we can't trace anything else"
"A ghost huh" Stigs rubbed his chin with a gloved hand "Either way his fate is sealed"