Phoenix

[Niro]

The dark haired mans eyelids opened halfway, a sliver of light slashing across his face as he lay on his back on what felt like a soft bed. His nostrils flexed slightly, inhaling a sweet rush of air. The cogs of his mind turned in reply, trying to identify the new smell. After a moment he placed it; flowers. The sight or smell of flowers wasnt extremely common in Sirius, but he could faintly remember seeing them before on a Freeport. An odd smell, regardless.

His eyes opened fully, fixated upon the ceiling above. As he slowly pieced his short term memory back together, he fully expected to see the image of the looming ceiling again, steel clad and foreboding, but instead was met with a relatively short rooms ceiling, hued a warm cr?me. He flexed his arms, pressing himself to sit against the wall behind his head, noticing offhandedly that the thin hospital type garments were no longer covering his body, a comfortable pair of sleeping shorts over boxers now on. His chest was a bare, except for a palm sized patch of soft, slightly red stained gauze covering over the bottom of his left pectoral.

A sliding glass door about ten feet to his left glided open with a gentle rush of humid air, a man with shoulder length dark brown hair stepping inside.

Trying to bribe me with comfort, warden? He glowered in the direction of the newcomer. You still havent told me a damn thing.

The man raised his hands in a gesture of ease, though with a slightly amused look across his face. And we havent spoken since your hand was around my throat. He chuckled, sitting down on a plain looking chair at the bedside. I told you Id answer any questions you had, and I meant it.

He gave the man a vaguely unbelieving look, eying him up and down idly before replying. So?

So? Thats not much of a question, now is it? He crossed his arms with his eyebrows raised. Youll have to be a little more specific, amigo.

Fine, lets start simple. Who are you?

Doctor Antonio Aguila, head scientist and project manager of Phoenix. He nodded fractionally as he answered the question without delay. But please, Id appreciate it if you called me Tony.

Phoenix, whats that? Is that where I am?

Yes and no. Phoenix is the name of the project I am heading. Right now, were in a private facility on Malta.

Malta? He flashed to his feet, sending the man a withering glare. Bloody Outcast!

Aguila sighed, leaning back in his chair slightly. Why thank you. He droned out lazily. Funny you say that, since you dont even know who are.

The man parted his lips to bark something back, but Aguila was right. He felt fine in body, and he was thinking clearly enough, but his memory was a mess. He thought it would come back to him, and certain things did, but ninety percent of it seemed to be just missing. He knew it was there, or rather was, but he simply couldnt grasp it. Either way, the doctor had a point. If he didnt even know who he was, he wasnt in much a position to be discriminating. Suddenly it felt as if the young man before him was his closest ally.

Alright, Im sorry. He nodded after a moment of hesitation, taking a step back and sitting on the foot of the bed. What do you know about me?

Aguila shrugged, crossing a leg over his knee and grasping his hands in front of him. Not much at all. He admitted. We found you in a civilian vessel on the outskirts of the Mahon. No identification, and the inboard systems were fried too badly to pull any real data out of them. The cockpit was depressurized, and you were doubled over with a foot long shiver of glass through your lung. He smirked somewhat, cocking his head and nodding to the bandage on his chest. Speaking of which

His mind was still processing the shocking information when he looked to the dressing again. It was fairly large, so the wound have had to have been serious, as Aguila said. Another sight caught his attention in the process; a slew of various tattoos across his shoulders, arms, and chest. He couldnt put much thought into them right now, in any case. He gingerly felt the bandage, the crusty blood stained patch against his fingertips. As serious as the injury looked to have been, he couldnt feel any pain coming from its position. His eyes turned to the doctor in partial confusion.

Go on, let it breath. He nodded in return, his eyes fixed on the man before him.

With a mild tug, the adhesive tore loose. A tickle ran down his stomach as something flittered to the ground; a thin string of wire; more specifically, stitches. His hand grazed over the so-called wound, but nothing was there. No wound, no blood, no scar. Did Aguila lie? No, that wouldnt make much sense. Whatever was going on, he certainly didnt mind an Outcast in front of him at this point.

I could have called that one. The Hispanic stifled a laugh as he turned his eyes to the thread lying before his feet.

Who the hell am I, Aguila? He murmured in a serious tone. What the hell am I?

The doctor smiled casually, standing up and folding his hands behind his back. You, my friend, are Nine. He turned forty-five degrees to his right, gesturing for him to follow. And Im Tony. Come on, Ive got something to show you.

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