I was chasing a story and hid aboard a transport to get something solid proving my suspicions. When it landed and I came out of my hiding place there were all these people around me. They were so badly butchered I assumed they were dead. I was wrong. When they broke out of the transport they came out swinging. I ran and tried to double back to the ship but, when I made it back, I wasn't alone. A lot of the prisoners had decided to utilise the guards and staff for a, lets say, fresh change of clothes and the one before me had sized me up as a perfect fit.
Before he could do what he had in mind he was shot in the back but not before raking down my face as he fell. Leaving me with . . ." the man's hand curls round towards his own face " . . . this. I escaped blinded and bloody but that was just the start of my problems. At first this scar wasn't as healthy as it is now, in fact, just after it initially started to 'heal', as it were, my scar was rotting away. Hence the patch there" He nods to the thing on the table "Psuedoskin. An old source gave me the details on it before along with a sample. It's stopped any scans picking up the unusual nature of the scar. Anyway, you can understand that I couldn't just walk into Manhattan medical hoping for a plaster and a lollipop. Beside the fact that it's a bit of a . . . specialised problem we both know that I would have disappeared shortly followed by the most thorough autopsy you've ever seen.
At that point I just started flying aimlessly spurred on by probable associates of the guards of that place who were very interested to talk to me. A chance encounter with one of the relations of the prisoners I'd seen on the station lead to a meeting and thorough grilling by a scientist of theirs and a gentleman by the name of Daniel. They seemed satisfied with what I'd explained to them though, now I come to think of it, my recollection is a bit fuzzy of that conversation. The upshot was they gave me the formula that has, so far, halted the degeneration of the scar to the point of it being as healthy as it is now. After that my pursuers lost me, in no small part due to a little hydra I dropped into the neural net to hide my digital identity, and I've talked to a few more from the same family as the prisoners I'd seen that day.
I'll admit I wasn't expecting the level of openness from the family of the prisoners that I've spoke to. Although I of all people should know you can't believe everything you read. Thing is though I'm not how sure if they're more interested in me or this" motioning in a small circle in front of his face "and I'd be lying if I could say that I've been feeling myself lately." the man looks down at the floor silently for a moment then continues "I've also got this" reaching into his inside jacket pocket the man produces a small crimson cassette and slides it across the table "It's a data drive with the scans I've done of my face and any other information, notes and so on. Everything I've got. I know I'm better at typing up a composed piece than public speaking so I've probably missed bits out or not made much sense with others in my story but anything else you want to know ask away."
"Before you do though" he reaches into his inside pocket again, takes a cigarette out of the pack and loads it into a holder "Have you got a light? I could really do with one right now and I didn't bring my lighter with me off the ship. In case was any bother security wise. I promise I'm at the end of the monologue when I say I'm more than sure I'm safe to talk here. I'm Matt. It's good to meet you John.
