"Instigators apprehended, initialising protocol cooldown."

Elias' hypo-contrasted view ceased, as the sensations around him dulled. The lines of text in his field of view dissipated, returning him to normal. Elias felt a level of fatigue run over him, as if he'd just sat an office job for a day straight.

'Addy???'

The voice didn't respond.

Anders held his side, a singed hole punched out of the fabric in his shirt. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, wincing from pain. Elias groggily rushed up to the wounded man, dropping to his knees beside him, "Y-You're hit!"

"Yeah, no shit." Anders groaned, grabbing the scrambler from the ground beside him and desperately searching for the chip. To his relief, it remained. He began pushing himself up achily, nearly losing his balance and falling.

"Thermo-thoracic abdominal injury." Elias stared at the wound, quietly muttering a string of familiar yet unknown words to himself. He frowned from the sudden wordvomit, before standing and spreading his arms questioningly, "Is there a doctor around here? What's the plan???"

"Luckil- ngh!" Anders swayed to the side, clearly in a big deal of pain, "... Just fuckin' help me up, I know where to go."

"Yeah... Yeah alright." Elias stepped beside Anders, putting himself under his arm and helping him up. Despite being a pretty tall guy, he was still both shorter and less built than Anders.

"That way." Anders nodded northwest of their current position, facing the decrepit buildings, so Elias shakily took him in that direction.

The two walked a for a decent while, Anders remaining silent except for whenever he gave the directions. "We're lucky they wer- Hgh..." He grimaced, "... Energy weapons." He commented, firmly grasping his wound. "Otherwise I'd prob'ly be dead by now..."

Elias glanced at the wound for a moment, noticing the charred skin and burnt clothes. It was enough information for him to put two-and-two together - "It's cauterised?"

"Somethin' like that."

"What's the benefit to using uh.. 'Energy weapons,' then?" Elias questioned.

"They pack a punch in a large area.. - You wanna kill someone with a pistol? Hit 'em in a vital. An energy pistol? Aim at the general area and you punch a hole through it."

"I get it..." Elias nodded, "Which way here?"

"-Straight ahead." Anders responded, going silent for a moment again before raising his chin with an inquisitive stare to Elias, "Well, things certainly would have been worse... If it hadn't been for you. Those were some pretty good reflexes."

Elias looked back sheepishly, "I-I don't know either. Everything went grey, and I could suddenly just see them. It felt like I was in control, but my body was moving itself. - like a reflex."

"Does 'Administrator,' or whatever, have anythin' to say 'bout this?" Anders glared.

"It's been silent for a while now."

The two took many turns down the catacomb-like alley, one left, one right, another left, straight ahead, then right, before a large sign presented itself to them. Shining in bright green and blue neon was 'TINKAS!'

Anders brought Elias through a roughly-hewn concrete arch, and into a very shoddy waiting room, he ignored the intercom button on the wooden desk nailed to the floor, which seemed to function by a wire running up the leg. Instead, he pushed straight through the door.

Hunched over on a chair in the back, his legs on a metal desk with tons of monitors on it, was a boney, flouro-green-haired, balding man with a mechanic's bib on.

"Dont'cha know how'ta ring a bloody bel-" He said, still turned. He pulled his legs from the desk, before spinning to see the wounded Anders with a crooked glare and wispy facial hair.

"Evenin'" Anders nodded over.

"A-Anders??? The fuck!??" He quickly stood rolled a metal operating table over.

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His voice was raspy and eccentric, almost a polar opposite to the deep and coarse, sand-papery voice of Anders. He squinted at Elias through welding goggles that were missing the glass, with reddened eyes, patting the table. "Put 'im down n' take off his coat."

Tinka lost no time grabbing a plethora of tools, gauze, tweezers, rubbing alcohol and an IV stand. The operating table and tool table he brought over shined crystal clean, juxtaposed to the rest of the room which managed almost well enough to block the pungent smell of blood and other mysterious fluids, with the noxious odor of gallons of bleach.

The stark juxtaposition of clean equipment to the otherwise miry shop didn't exactly fill Elias with confidence in this 'Tinka's' abilities. Either way, he followed as commanded, placing down Anders and helping with the trenchcoat.

"You're not gonna need all that stuff." Anders took his hand off his wound, revealing the missing chunk of flesh, and the singed skin; the sickly scent of burning flesh arising in the room.

"Energy rifle?" He quickly diagnosed the origin of the wound, raising a brow, "... Someday yer luck's gonn' run out old man." A slap of latex hitting skin came as Tinka put on gloves, putting a bucket under the side of the table where the wound was, and grabbing a small hose connected to a pipe on the floor.

"Did it hit anythin' important? And I ain't gettin' painkillers I'm guessin'?" Anders clenched his jaw.

"Say goodbye to yer left kidney, an' not unless y'wanna pay, мудак." Tinka uttered some sort of russian malediction, before his twitchy eyes drifted to Elias.

"Shi-" Anders clenched his fists as a stream of warm water was poured over the wound.

Tinka patted the wound dry, before grabbing gauze and loosely wrapping the wound. "Nice little goon y'got yerself there, ay?" He said, motioning to Elias, who widened his eyes at this mistreatment.

Anders gave a grimace, and cursed under his breath- "... Straight from the streets. Dumpster, in fact."

"He's the one that held me at gunpoint." Elias muttered, his eyes darting between the two.

" 'n you from around 'ere kid? Y'don't look it. People like you get eaten up down 'ere." Tinka turned to look back at Elias momentarily, sneering at him.

Elias caught Anders watching the conversation attentively - clearly intrigued by his actual origins. Unfortunately, he didn't have much to say, or even go off.

"I uhh..-"

Administrator abruptly cut in after it's long silence. "Tell them you are from the West Rim Overcity. You were originally the child of a well-off family involved in corporate politics, but they fell out of esteem. Your parents were framed for espionage within the business, and were arrested when you were seventeen."

Elias soaked in this cover story, for some reason, he felt like it came naturally. "I was born in the Overcity... West Rim. My parents were fairly wealthy - generational from involvement in corporate politics. I guess they were deemed... insufficient, and fell out of favor. It started with the business giving them impossible tasks, and eventually became accusations of espionage and framing." Elias rattled on, adding his own details - the dramas of the corporate world all too familiar for an amnesiac. "... Anomina did what it does best; silence a family to keep the machine churning... and suddenly I was an orphan." He paused for a moment, feigning grief. "I managed to float around the Overcities for some time, but recently ended up here."

'Welcome back. Sleep well~?' Elias sarcastically notioned the voice.

"Do not jest."

'Do I sense frustration?'

"..."

'Not so fun when you get suddenly knocked out, huh?'

"Oh I err..." Tinka stared, before looking away. "Sorry, kid."

Elias' gaze drifted to Anders, who simply glared at the kid in unwavering silence. His reaction was hard to discern. Eventually, he sat up, and patted Tinka on the back, whilst motioning to Elias, "Alright, your turn."

"Huh?" Elias raised a brow, "I'm not missing any kidneys, though."

Tinka gave a raspy chuckle.

"Ha. Ha."

Anders was unimpressed.

"Alrighty kid, lay yaself down on that operating table right 'ere." Tinka pat the cold steel of the table, segmented across the upper third with hinges for manipulation.

Elias shot a wary look at Anders, who's imposing figure stood stern beside the table; little reaction to boot. Elias reluctantly stepped over to the bench, planting his food right in the puddle of clear, stringy fluid.

"Ewh..." Elias shuddered, rubbing his shoe against a dry part of the floor, before navigating to the operating table; still cold despite it's recent use.

Elias prompted Administrator;'What's about to happen to me?'

"They are likely going to run a Cybernetic Profile Analysis, C.P.A, to detect what cybernetics you potentially possess."

'Do I even have those? Shouldn't you be worried?'

Administrator lacked response, and Elias could sense an air of resignation but also subtle experimentalism from the voice.

"He's preeeeetty calm 'bout all this fer a potential spy, Anders." Tinka pulled an arm down from the roof, with a large lamp and a strange hurring machine with a laser on it.

"Indeed." Anders snorted.

"Don't mind me, братан." Tinka rolled up one of his pant legs and pulled down his collar, spending some time placing a few electrodes on his skin.

" 'Bratan' is russian slang for a friend, or 'bro.' "

'Oh so you're a live translator too.'

"I support all UN-endorsed languages and more."

Elias couldn't help but wonder what Administrator truly was, but either way, the last time he pried about it's intentions; he was shut down quickly. Perhaps he needed to start broader.

'What exactly are you?"

"Possession of that information is unecessary to the protocol."

'As far as I can tell, you're some sort of AI. But I don't even understand why I know what an that is, but couldn't even remember my own name.'

"..."

'I mean, shit, was 'Elias' even my name before I got memory-wiped? Or did you just make that up? Or did I not even have an identity, or exist, before I got wiped?' Elias at this point was just talking to himself. He didn't expect a response.

"Elias is your real name."

"Eh, it'll only sting a little." Tinka muttered.

"Huh?"