Everything is dark.

You jerk awake, kicking out violently as though you had just escaped from nasty night terrors. Your foot knocks something over, but you're not sure what.

Finally, you open your eyes. You sort of expect to be blinded, but you're not. The room is dim. Your senses come back to you slowly, and you become aware of everything after some time.

It's a small room, most likely an apartment. A single dusty window is the only source of light, although as it is pouring rain outside, "light" is up for debate. The occasional flash of lightning illuminates the center of the room, shafts of light penetrating the brown-stained window which is currently rattling with the wind. Opposite of the window is a door, made of wood with metal reinforcements. A couch with a partially-open hideaway bed is on one side of the room, and a kitchenette is on the other. Old clothes, empty tin cans and microwave meal containers, and dust covers the couch. A table in front of the couch (and right next to you) has a lamp on it, which has been kicked over, although there is no light bulb and the lamp is metal so nothing seems broken. The stove and fridge are rusty and covered in ... food grime? You hope it's food.

You stand weakly, barely aware of yourself. You're not even sure who you are, or what you are, let alone why you're here. You bring a hand out to steady yourself against the table, and hear a metallic clinking noise. Coming... from you.

METAL AND FLESH, WHOLE YET NOT

You stumble backwards, looking down at your arm. Lightning flashes once more, and you quickly examine yourself in the mere moments you have to see.

Both of your legs are metal prostheses that extend all the way to your hip. Your left arm is also a metal prosthetic, and a small cracked screen is on the forearm. Your legs are attached right below the hip, bolted into place, with your arm being bolted into your shoulder. Some of your hair passes in front of your eyes as you look down, and when another burst of lightning strikes, you can see it is a dull dark blue. Short gray fur covers you from head to... well, not toe, obviously. Reaching above your head, you can feel your two ears, about a foot long and also covered with fur on the outside.

Your clothes are a pair of gym shorts and a tank top. The black nylon shorts reach down to mid-thigh, and the black tank top is enough to cover your dignity. You don't have any socks or shoes. Your clothes are a little tattered on the edges, your prostheses have scratches and a few dents, your hair is slightly tangled and greasy, and your fur is thin and matted down.

Your heart begins to beat faster and faster as you examine yourself. Who are you? What is all this? Why are you here?

The cracked screen on your prosthetic arm suddenly turns a dim green. You jump a little at it, but suddenly you feel a wave of warmth coming over you. You read the screen.

*

DOSAGE GIVEN

C17H13ClN4 RELEASED

stimtype[Depressant]

printstring."Acute adrenaline detected. Depressants injected into bloodstream."

*

It stays on for a few seconds, then the screen turns off.

HOW CAN YOU CLEAN THE UNCLEAN?

Might as well do something. It's a real mess in here, so there must be something useful. You walk to the hideaway bed that's half-sticking out and push it up. The rusted hinges creak and snap in a few places but luckily you are able to put it away.

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Crouching down, you peer under the couch. There is a can of unopened soda, a small locked utility chest with stuff rattling inside, some balled up dirty clothes, and lots of dust. You sneeze several times.

You place everything you found on the table, neatly, next to the lamp. You place the lamp upright so as to save space. The soda is dented, with a scratched label that seems to read "Flizzy Pop: Original Flavor". The use-by date is hard to read and probably moot anyway. The utility box is yellow with a black handle, and a metal lock keeps you from opening it. It's not super heavy but there's certainly some weight to it. Several somethings rattle within. The clothes are... well, they're dirty, wrinkled, faded, torn, tattered, and probably only good for kindling at this point.

You walk to the kitchenette. It consists of a small counter, a fridge, a stove, and some cabinets. A microwave oven and a toaster rest on the counter. There's a sink embedded into the counter. Maybe there's water? A quick splash on your face could wake you up...

The faucet handle twists right off, unleashing a torrent of rust and dust. You lean down and open the cabinet underneath. The pipes are missing. Great.

You open the oven. Nothing but rust and caked on ... stuff.

Inside the cupboards is dust, cobwebs, and... well, there's a knife. Long blade, non-serrated, full thick tang inside the handle. Surprisingly clean and shiny, despite the rest of the room. There's also dust underneath it... as though someone had placed it there recently.

The microwave and the toaster hold little but crumbs.

The fridge... hoo boy. Still has weird stains on it. You open the fridge part first. More stains spread among the various shelves and drawers. There's a terrible smell, and it's hard to see without any lighting. You tentatively stick your hand in and feel around. There are some old bottles of completely expired milk and other drinks. There's a small bottle of alcohol, the kind with a strong, biting smell and a super-high alcoholic content. There are also two bottles of water, slightly dented and room temperature but unopened. You also discover a single bag of beef jerky, still sealed and with the oxygen packet still inside. Probably doesn't taste good and is hard as a rock but you'll take anything.

You open the freezer next. It's not cold, obviously, since it's either not plugged in or there's no power. The meats in there are rotten and nasty, and there's mold everywhere. However, there is a small crank flashlight. You spin the crank a few times and the bulb lets out a small, feeble light.

Of everything you found, you place the knife, the flashlight, the water bottles, the jerky, and the alcohol on the center table. You're not feeling hungry or thirsty yet but you're glad you found something, at least. This is all placed alongside the soda, the utility box, the clothing pile, and the lamp. Maybe, you think, it'll be useful for later. There's an instinct inside of you, one that you can't quite understand, but it urges you to take stock of these things. But now, where else to go?

YOU CAN'T LEAVE. NOBODY CAN LEAVE.

You walk up to the door and jiggle the handle. It's locked. Wait... it's locked from the other side. Your head is full of cobwebs, but you get the feeling that most doors don't lock people into rooms. Either this isn't an apartment, or someone flipped the door around to keep you in here.

The window, maybe?

Up at the window, which is rattling and letting the wind whistle through the cracks, you can see that it, too can be opened. You can barely see out of the grime, rain, and fog, but the dim shapes of buildings (or something tall and rectangular) can be seen briefly with the flashes of lightning. You suppose you could jump, but you're not sure how high you are.

You take a step back. The room lights up for half a second once again, long shadows trailing across the room. Something glints far outside the window, but it's gone as quickly as it was there. You look back at the table. The things upon it... the knife, the lamp, the utility box... the alcohol. Alcohol... images flash through your mind. Like a thousand stock photos, being flipped through at lightspeed. What are these memories? They're not yours. Depictions of people drinking, and various words associated with it. Alcohol. Liquor. Numbing. Nerves. Maybe the alcohol can calm you down. No, no, that's not the key to alleviating your pain. You shake your head, and shake the thoughts free.

ONE KEY, MANY DOORS. DO YOU DARE OPEN THEM ALL?

Wait, key. Keys. More thoughts, doors, locks, keys, opening. A key, a key... Maybe the couch? Or the clothes?

As you are fumbling with the clothes, you pick up a pair of jeans. Out of the pocket falls a key. You pick it up. It's small, made of cheap metal, and covered in grime. But before you can even think of using the key, you hear a muffled pop coming from outside. Next thing you know, the window is burst open and something slams into the wall on the far side of the room. The room is suddenly filled with cold wind and rain. You look behind you.

Whatever it was, it left a bullet hole behind.