You forced your feet to drag forward, the cold feeling of the snow from before wearing off of your bare skin, though promised to leave lasting effects like frostbite. You could practically feel the poison coursing through your veins from that last experiment-the straw that broke the camels back. You had stayed in that damn lab, that cellar for long enough to make you forget your own name, treated like a lab rat by the manic scientist himself-Subspace T. Mines. You managed to mess with the security system and take your escape, the feeling of freedom relieving yet painful.

You were in a daze, unaware of your surroundings as you felt hot sand crunch under your feet. You looked up, met with the remote deserts of..Lost Temple, was it? You couldn't remember enough about the faction anymore. All you had was hope that someone or something would turn up that could be of use to you. The drastic change in climate made the heat seem ten times worse, the rot on your body beginning to hurt more than ever. You felt as if you'd collapse as a result of stopping for just a second, so you further pushed yourself to keep moving.

Eventually, you reached some sort of civilization. Bright, colorful lights lit the night sky, con artists in suits running around the streets. You paused, before stumbling to a wall as the sounds of chatter and stomping feet filled your ears. It was loud. Too loud.

Medkit, on the other hand, was just trying to get home after work. Medkit in one hand, revolver in the holster at his hip, he pushed through the farmiliar sea of people. He looked around, trying to spot an entrance on the sidewalk to make a turn-until his gaze landed on a certain figure, leaning on the wall. He was able to recognize your state, your symptoms, just from a distance as a result of Subspace's work. It made him stop in his tracks to stare at you, slowly connecting the dots in his head. His eyes widened, and he stood there, unable of what to do—if he should go on with his day without a second thought, or approach.