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"What the Fuck?"

This rather overused expression of shock and confusion was the first coherent thought he put together upon gaining consciousness, though the intent would be better communicated by the question, "Where the fuck?"

'What is this place? WHERE is this place? Where's my team?'

Panic was setting in as he realized he wasn't anywhere resembling a field hospital. He seemed to be in a spherical chamber painted gray, changing in shade to points of pure black and white at semi-regular intervals. The strangest and perhaps most disconcerting facet of the room was the fact that these points seemed to be . . . three dimensional?

His panic changed rapidly to fear. The feeling of weightlessness he attributed to this disorienting awakening didn't go away after what felt like minutes. It dawned on him that there was no longer that comforting force keeping him grounded, nor was there the ground he should be pushing against.

'This must be a torture technique!' he thought to himself as he felt the urge to puke coming on. Yet he didn't vomit. More accurate would be to say there was nothing TO vomit, leading to him bent over on himself, making disgusting hacking and gagging noises as his body desperately tried to adapt to it's new environment.

This went on for what felt like hours.

After this regurgitation rehearsal, he began to collect his bearings and try to figure out just what the hell was going on.

'First things first, physical condition. Arms, legs, body, and head all accounted for. Next, mental condition. Status, I feel fucked up, but otherwise alright. Equipment check . . . Not a fucking thing. Buddy check, alone. Environment?' he looked around after completing the rest of his situational awareness check.

"NOT A GOD DAMN CLUE!!!"

This outburst of his was his first time speaking after waking up. He half expected it to echo off of the walls back to himself and annoy him further, but much to his surprise there was still the same deafening and disorienting silence. He couldn't even hear his own heartbeat. The only indication he had that he had actually spoken in the first place was the fact that his vocal chords vibrated.

This only served to confuse him further. Walls would rebound sound at least to some degree, even if they are designed to absorb it. Did this mean that the walls were better than the best sound absorption materials known to the Republic? Was the Union's top secret technology really so advanced? Those fools?

"Though I suppose they can't possibly be that stupid if my fireteam got ambushed and even the Republic's top strategists have been unable to surrender after, after, after how long again?"

"What is the republic again? Why were we fighting in the first place? Union? Why can't I remember? This really is a torture technique isn't it! They'll make me forget what I know and then extract what few strategic secrets I know!"

His confusion turned to rage on a dime. How dare those bastards stoop to such unethical measures on a mere grunt. They wouldn't even get anything out of it! "They really are stupid dogs in the end aren't they!"

His rant was drawn short by the instantaneous appearance of a man merely a few armlengths in front of him.

Welcome to the start of my novice-piece (as opposed to a Master-Piece). Feel welcome to stay and peer into the nuclear wasteland that is my imagination. Whether or not this story will contine beyond a certain point is completely up to the whims of my homework and essay schedule, family matters, and my own unmotivated ass.

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