Sira isn’t sure what they expect ‘F-6’ to look like, but what it ends up being isn’t anything they could’ve come up with on their own.

They warily get into a hunched position to leave the back of the truck, with Lionel and Therese ahead of them. Karim is the first to exit, with Rani right on his tail. Mikael remains seated. Sira is beginning to think that being in the back of the group is what he prefers.

The area the back opens out to is indoors. The armored truck stopped inside of a large building Sira can only describe as a garage, with barren concrete walls, flooring, and bright lights on yellow stands that illuminate everything. Other vehicles of similar design to the truck populate the interior, as well as tons more people.

Some of them wear the same black armor as Karim and the others, while the rest have much more casual clothes: overalls layered over loose t-shirts pocked with holes, safety goggles slung around their neck, and jumpsuits covered in dark stains with a variety of patch jobs to the fabric.

However, they all have one thing in common: not one of them wears a mask.

A handful of people take notice of their arrival and make their way toward the truck, one of them a woman dressed in armor and holding a clipboard. Karim steps forward to speak with her as the others slide around the group to get to the vehicle itself. Going off the smudges on their faces and the tools attached to their belts, Sira assumes they're mechanics, engineers, or something similar. One of them gives Sira a wary look as he passes by. They reflexively shrink down behind the cover of their associates' shoulders, but he doesn't make an audible comment.

Sira reminds themselves that, even masked, there’s plenty about their physical state to draw attention. A spare change of clothes and a way to get the dirt off them to at least resolve some of that can’t come fast enough, if that’s something they’ll be allowed to have.

The ‘testing’ comes first.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Lionel breathes as he brings his hands to the back of his head and undoes the straps of his respirator. He only undoes the top strap, letting it hang loose around his neck by the lower one, and takes a deep breath. “Maybe it’s just what’s happened these past couple of hours, but man, I was sweating bad in that thing.”

Sira blinks in confusion as the others around them are in the process of also freeing themselves from their masks. Karim does the same as he continues his mostly one-sided discussion with the woman holding the clipboard, who is dutifully nodding along as they scribble things down with a pen.

Somehow, it’s only then that Sira pieces together that the air inside the building lacks any of the mist’s red tint that seemed ever-present outside. It’s clean. They glance around themselves and notice that the side from which the truck drove in lacks any windows or regular exterior doors - only large, metal, garage-like doors, all sealed firmly shut.

Are the doors keeping the mist out? Is that why everyone feels safe to unmask?

Sira turns back to their companions, who have all now relieved themselves of their respirators. Despite Sira’s confusion, they realize this is the first time they’re getting a proper look at their rescuers, who - as they thought - look like ordinary people beneath the masks.

Lionel is the shortest of the group, although he’s stocky. His close-cropped, platinum blond hair shows off the pair of black cross earrings that dangle from his ears, but they’re small enough that they wouldn’t get in the way of anything. Rani is the second tallest to Mikael, with a set of broad shoulders, warm brown skin, and stark black hair tied into a thick bun, the sides of it shaved. Therese has a full figure, deep brown skin with cool undertones, and mid-length twists tied up and out of her youthful face. The ends of the braids are dyed in a silver gradient. All of them seemed to be around Sira’s age, perhaps a little older, if they were to hazard a guess.

Mikael is the last to remove his respirator, still holding it in his hands when Sira looks his way. A loose, low ponytail restrains most of his long, auburn hair, letting his bangs that are too short to be tied back hang free. Most of them shield his left eye - or, where his left eye would be, if it weren't covered by a thick, black eyepatch that covers most of that side of his face. Scarred skin peeks out from underneath, hinting at the injury that requires its usage.

He notices Sira looking at him, scowls, then proceeds to stare off in a different direction. Sira quickly looks away, wanting to kick themselves in embarrassment.

Distracted, they startle when a hand lightly taps their shoulder. Rani came up beside her, a guilty look on her face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you," she says, then lowers her voice. "Just wanted to let you know that you can take that thing off now. Right now it's going to draw more attention to us if you don't."

It takes a second for it to click in their head, but as soon as it does, their mouth shapes into a silent ‘oh’ and their hands shoot up to work on removing their own mask. Rani leaves them be, instead going to Karim, who appears to be done speaking with the woman holding the clipboard.

Now that he’s unmasked, Sira notices the dark and messily trimmed stubble tracing the sharp lines of Karim’s jaw. He has medium olive skin, a prominent nose, and looks to be in his early 40s at the oldest. His face is careworn, but his eyes are soft as he holds a hushed conversation with Rani.

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“Alright team,” he then says, crossing his arms and straightening his shoulders, “I’m going to be escorting our newcomer to the infirmary. The rest of you go to your quarters and await further instruction - and remember to not go saying anything that might compromise the integrity of this...situation.”

Lionel frowns. “What, we can’t come with? I wanna see what’s gonna happen.”

“Sira doesn’t seem like the type to want to be crowded by a bunch of people while having a doctor look them over,” he says, before turning to Sira. “Am I right?”

They wrap their arms around themselves, though the prospect of not being in the presence of so many people brings a bit of relief. “Uh...yeah, I guess so.”

Karim grins. It’s unexpectedly disarming. He motions to a metal door - an actual door with a handle - on the far side of the wall. “Come on, then. You’ll want to get this part over with as quickly as possible.”

Lionel mumbles something to himself, but Sira doesn’t catch what it is as they step away from the group. Karim moves in the direction of the door, but before Sira can properly start to follow him, a gloved hand gently clasps their wrist. They’re getting sick of being randomly touched, but they try not to let it show as they half-turn to see who it is.

It’s Rani again, who smiles softly at them. “I’m hoping to see you later, ‘kay? Good luck.”

The gesture wasn't expected, despite the fact Rani has been fairly kind to them since they first met, so Sira isn't sure how to respond. They can't just walk away without saying anything, though, so they attempt to anyway: "I'll...try my best. Thank you."

Rani nods, then lets them go. Sira doesn't bother to see what the others do as they turn to leave again and catch up with Karim. They're mindful of their bare feet on the cold, rough flooring, weaving their way around the various things that litter its surface.

Karim waits for them by the door. Any trace of the impatient attitude he exhibited in the truck has drained from his face, which Sira thinks is a little odd. The grin that returns as Sira approaches him, however, only seems earnest. They focus their attention on Karim’s back as jr pulls the door open for them and gestures for Sira to go ahead.

As the cold flooring beneath their feet unpleasantly transitions into mangled pavement, Sira comes to a stop almost as soon as they exit the garage.

F-6 is a small cluster of buildings that, in contrast to their run-down exteriors, are alight with power and other signs of life. The place isn't packed with people, but there are enough in the area to give the impression of a small community. Most are dressed in worker's clothing, much like those inside the garage, while others are in uniform. Some go in and out of buildings, chatting with other individuals accompanying them or hefting crates and other supplies over their shoulders. Several groups sit at tables arranged beneath lines of lightbulbs hung up between two of the buildings, talking, laughing, and nursing the drinks in their hands.

Again, not a single person wears a mask.

After shutting the door behind them, Karim steps into view beside Sira. He points off in the distance. "See that? That's what Therese was talking about."

They follow his finger to a massive, dark pole that stands out against the orange glow of the sunset in the sky, towering above the rest of the buildings in the compound. A large mechanism sits at its top, rectangular in shape and with a metal, cage-like structure covering what Sira can only describe as a glowing red mass beneath the surface.

There's more than one of the poles: seven in total that are scattered around F-6, from what Sira can see. A wall, made up of various hunks of metal and scaffolding, surrounds the area, stopping only at the sides of the building they just left. Sira assumes it's the entry point. More of the glowing constructs are arranged to follow the shape of the walls. While staring at them in amazement, they pick up on a faint hum in the air that comes from all around them that they assume is from the devices.

Sira quirks their brow at Karim in a silent question.

“Those are what is allowing us to breathe without respirators. They absorb the mist and condense it into liquid, and do it effectively enough that the air is breathable again. It’s what Therese was referring to earlier,” he says, “unfortunately, the design is pretty resource intensive, so we can’t just stick them everywhere in hopes of eliminating the mist entirely. We’ve tried a lot of things, even making smaller or portable versions, but none of it has been effective or sustainable.”

He puts his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight to one leg. With the mask not covering his face and the nonchalant attitude he's expressed so far, he comes across as a lot less like an authority figure. Their significant difference in height makes him somewhat imposing, sure, but not by much.

Sira is thankful for it, but they refuse to drop their guard entirely.

“I figured I would explain that a little since you looked pretty confused when we first showed up.” His grin abruptly fades as his brows knit together in concern. “But now that we have a chance to talk one-on-one: I mean this seriously, how are you doing? You don’t exactly look...well.”

His worried tone reminds them of Rani, but something about Karim - perhaps his age and the assumed capability that comes with it - makes Sira answer more honestly than they initially intended: “...I really don’t know.”

Karim watches their face intently, obviously expecting them to elaborate. Sira huffs a short sigh. They really just want to lie down at this point rather than continuing to talk and explain what little they’re able to, but they’ll be forced to sooner or later.

“I’ve felt sick and like I’m on the verge of falling over ever since I first woke up. Getting chased by phantoms and having to walk everywhere definitely hasn’t helped. I don’t know who I am, or when the last time I’ve eaten or drank anything, and being fed all this information about the virus and stuff is...it’s a lot.”

He nods slowly. “I can imagine, especially for an amnesiac. But that’s part of why I want you to get looked at - not just about your, well, special quality, but also to ensure you get any medical care you need beyond that. Think you can make it to the infirmary on your own?”

Another offer to help them walk. Sira shakes their head, but his attitude doesn't come off as infantilizing in the same way as it did with Rani. Rani only had the best intentions, they're sure, and Karim seems the same way, but they think it's the fact that they and Rani are closer in age, while they must practically be a child in Karim's eyes. Of course, Sira doesn't know exactly how old they are.

Again, there’s only the vague intuition.

"I'll take your word for it," he says, the grin returning to his face, "come on then. You can sit down while you're there and then afterward, you'll get a break from all the chaos for a bit, I promise you."