Blue

Uncharted

Adam was dreaming but he couldn't figure out what exactly was happening in it. He just knew that whatever this confusing jumble of sounds and sights and smells was-none of it seemed to bring any sort of lasting and important remembrance to his brain-it was definitely part of a dream. He shifted uncomfortably. Someone was taking a nail–no, not a nail, it was something larger and duller–and driving it into the bottom of his right foot. Clink. Clink. He shifted again, trying somehow to get away from it, but his body stubbornly wouldn't move. It drove into his foot steadily. Clink.

Someone was kicking his foot.

"Yo. Dude. Wake up." He didn't recognize that voice. He struggled to open his eyes, fighting desperately against the weight of sleep, heavy on his chest. They kicked his foot again.

"Dude."

There was an anxious face standing above him.

"Oh. We thought you might be regular dead. That happens sometimes," the face said. Adam blinked. Pieces of his consciousness seemed to be running away from him, creating black spots on his vision and making him want to chase them back into the comforting hands of sleep.

"Regular... dead?" Adam asked. He struggled to sit up, looking around uncertainly. The face was cocked slightly to the side, observing him.

"You look worse than usual. I mean, like, worse than people usually look when we bring them in here. We really thought you might be dead."

"Why.... why would I be dead?"

"Well... I mean... you are dead. In a way. Most of you is. I just meant that we thought you were all the way dead. You know, regular dead," the guy said. Adam's face twisted in confusion and he raked a hand roughly across his face, feeling the uncomfortable pain of it. He had no idea what this guy was talking about.

"Do you know who you are?" the guy asked him. The guy crouched down, so they were about eye level. What a stupid question. Of course Adam knew who he was.

"Adam."

The guy nodded, "Well, that's good. Usually when people come in here and they look the way you look, they don't even know who they are. Do you know where you are?"

Adam looked around. He was sitting in some sort of... metal room. Everything was made out of a dull, silvery metal, the floors, the walls, the ceiling. He imagined that it had all been a bright, shiny silver once, like the ceilings, but it was so worn down that it had dulled down to a much more unassuming shade. He had never seen this place before in his life. He jolted away from the guy, scrambling into a defensive crouch and pressing his back against the wall.

"Who the fuck are you? What is this place?" he asked. The guy took a step forward.

"Stop. Don't come near me. I'll fucking kill you!" Adam snapped. The guy froze.

"This is so weird. I've never really heard of someone freaking out like this. Um, I'm Curtis. Please don't hit me, dude. I'm trying to help you, though if you keep acting like a ratbag, I'm not going to," the guy, Curtis, said.

"What the fuck is a ratba-Why would you be helping me? You kidnapped me! Where the am I? Where did you take me?"

Curtis blinked. Confusion and annoyance were battling on his face.

"I thought you said you knew who you were."

"What does that even mean? Of course I know who I am. What, did you drug me or something?"

"You're really irritating, do you know that? Why would I drug you, dude. I don't even know who you are. I'm trying to help you right now," Curtis snapped, annoyance briefly winning out in his expression.