[center][color=maroon][h1]3[/h1][/color]

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All 3 could perceive were the torrential thoughts and the dark clouds in his vision. He tried to stand, but fell onto his hands and knees instead. The ground was smooth, but hard. He couldn't see what it was, but it felt like linoleum. He rocks back onto his knees and clutches at his head, attempting to steady himself. The black spots slowly retreat from his vision and back into his brain. As his vision returns, he finds he cant remember much. Not even his name. Fuck. No. He must remember something. He lets out a terrified scream, and shakes his head violently. His thoughts are scouring his brain, but the more he looks, the less he finds. His bony fingers are fervently tugging at his hair, hoping the pain will bring something back. Nothing. Nothing... until a voice cuts through his consciousness.

[color=mediumaquamarine]"Did you work for Dark Anarchy?"[/color]

He looks for the source of the voice, and finds himself face to barrel with a gun. He doesn't care what she said, she's holding a gun, and it's pointed at him. The barrel is hollow. As hollow as his mind. He glances around. He seems to be in a laboratory of sorts. There are a few others standing around, but none of this matters. He falls back, his head colliding with the pod he'd just come out of with a meaty [i]thud[/i].

What was it the lady with the gun had said? Dark Anarchy? He figured he was going to die anyway, better to die learning something than to not.

He speaks slowly, as if trying to remember the right words, [color=maroon]"Who.... who the fuck are the Dark Anarchy?"[/color]