Nathan felt the warmth of a fluffy pillow behind his neck. He slowly opened his eyes and adjusted to the mundane setting around him.
The empty white room had an almost cold feeling radiating inside of it. The young man didn't know why but he felt as though he had to escape from this very room.
Nathan tried to move his hands to help him stand up, only to find them restrained in place. The coldness in the room had slowly encircled both of his hands.
A sensation arose in the tip of his right index finger. He glanced toward it, noticing a clip attached to it and a generic heart rate monitor right next to his bed. Small tubes were going into his arms that seemed to be supplying him with some sort of dense translucent liquid.
He tried to move his legs next which were restrained even tighter than his wrists.
These cold metal hand cuffs holding him down was a feeling he wished he wouldn't have to feel again.
All those years ago, before the readjustment period, he had a bad habit of consuming a nightcap.
He had a hard time sleeping at night and drinking a little whiskey was the only way for him to achieve a good night's rest.
The smile on his face disappeared.
There came a day where consuming a nightcap was the worst choice he could make.
Nathan indulged in a drink from impulse and couldn't quite go to sleep. He drank more and more which should've made him drowsy enough for a good night's rest.
Sadly, this wasn't the case and only increased his insomnia-like symptoms. Though it may have worked in his favor.
His aunt Nora, the person who had taken care of him all of his life, had fallen very ill that night.
She was unable to drive and out of desperation to save her life, at the age of fifteen, Nathan drove under the influence.
Unfortunately, the vehicle didn't make it to the hospital and he crashed into a ditch and was incapacitated.
He woke up from the crash and both of them were fine. Besides a few cuts or bruises on both of their arms and legs, they were completely fine.
As Nathan was going to start the car again, he turned to see his aunt smiling and burning to ash. This was how he first witnessed the beginning of the readjustment period.
He wandered from his car under the influence that night aimlessly trying to put together what had happened in his head.
Nathan remembered how he cried and sobbed at losing the only family he had left in this world.
Local law enforcement eventually spotted him stumbling and brought him into the station. The cops had made him use a breathalyzer and verified he was under the influence.
Cold metal cuffs were wrapped tightly around his wrists then as he was questioned about what he was doing out so late drunk. He hadn't said a word.
In the following days, the police department underwent new management and he was discharged.
Nathan murmured to himself, "Law enforcement..."
Wait, those investigators from before in the coffee shop... Had they brought him to this facility? He swore, one of them had been a human and the other had been a faceless. That didn't sound right... There's no way he was remembering the details right at all.
Nathan tried to move his jaw to speak more clearly in the empty room as the muscles and flesh surrounding his face felt a tad bit different. He could barely feel his face.
It was almost like the entirety of it had been numbed beforehand. What happened to him? Did he get into some freak accident on the way here? Did those investigators do this to him?
The young man's stomach growled as he felt incredibly hungry on top of this all. He was definitely malnourished but surprisingly he didn't feel dehydrated.
Nathan muttered weakly, "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have covered for them."
A headache began to pulse in Nathan's head. The pulse sounded similar to a metronome measuring each beat in a measure carefully.
The time signature of the beats in his head were going at four beats per measure. He felt himself almost hyper fixating on each beat in his head.
One.. Two.. Three.. Four..
The beats in his head switched to eighth notes.
One & Two & Three & Four &
The beats had now become a mix of eighth notes and quarter notes.
One, Two &, Three, Four &
The measures of beats he analyzed in his head passed and so had several minutes.
A voice broke through the headache radiating in his head but he couldn't tell if the voice was real or not.
Nathan closed his eyes for a minute and as he opened them. He was sitting on a wooden rocking chair in the countryside and playing on a classical guitar for his aunt Nora. His hands glided up the neck of the guitar strumming a few simple chords.
Nora says joyfully, "Great Job Nate! I'm glad you like your gift kiddo."
Nathan smiles, "Of course I do, thank you!"
Nora's face turns grim, "Don't forget the mission."
Nathan's face goes blank, "What?"
Nathan's vision blurs and his head radiates with pain once again.
He opens his eyes as he lays on a hospital bed staring at a faceless, wearing a frowny face mask with a grey cloak on.
A man who had dark brown skin, wore a black trench coat, a bowler hat, and was in his late forties leaned against the wall by his bed, analyzing the heart rate monitor.
Ada says, "I didn't think you'd survive the procedure. Exceptional... Truly exceptional... You know what your next mission will be now, won't you?"
Nathan murmurs, "What?"
Ada shushes him, putting a long finger to her mask, "Safe your breath. In fact, I wouldn't strain your vocal chords the next few months if I was you."
Nathan groans in pain.
Ada says coldly, "You will infiltrate the underground city and work for us from the inside. Refuse and you will disappear like it says on your file."
Ada scratches her chin, "Your new name will be... Ronan."
A headache began pulsating again in Nathan's head and his vision blurred.
Nathan opened his eyes as a brown cloak and some sort of a mask concealed his body.
He was being dragged along by an older woman with a grim look on her face. She wore a black dress, had olive skin, and seemed to be blind, having two long scars trailing down her face.
Lyra says, "I read your case on the hivemind. You have a mutation and escaped the council's grasp. You're really lucky."
Ronan nods, unable to say a word.
Lyra says, "You don't talk much. Do you?"