The dark, almost black sky combined with storm clouds and flashes of thunder and heavy rain was not a pleasant or warm experience. Gogol used his ability, "Overcoat", as much as he could, teleporting 30 meters away to avoid being exposed to the cold. It made almost no difference at all, only made him more tired. He was returning to the temporary base where he was supposed to meet Fyodor after killing someone in Yokohama according to his plan. But apparently the sky was crying for the newly dead souls, shedding tears on him.

After about 30 minutes he stopped using his ability, exhausted, just marching through the storm. It was cold, wet, dark... the coat didn't help. He was already 1/3 of the way back, he'd be back soon and he could piss off Fyodor or Sigma, or so he told himself, walking through puddles.

Each clap of thunder woke him from his half-sleep from exhaustion, reminding him that he had to get back to base. How long had it been? An hour, maybe two in the rain...he didn't know.

Due to the darkness of the night, he didn't even notice that he had spots before his eyes. He was shivering from the cold despite himself, until he finally didn't remember what had happened. The storm defeated him here.

He slowly woke up with a headache, opening his heavy eyes slightly. It was... warm. He didn't know where he was until he noticed the ceiling of some room. He sat up slowly as the room began to spin and his vision began to blur, making him feel sick. He was sitting on the couch, covered with a blanket, disoriented as hell. He was in the middle of a storm that was currently outside the window, and the raindrops on the glass were making noise, reminding him of it.

"Where...am I?"

He mumbled in a hoarse and tired voice as his vision cleared, looking around. A warm room, living room, it was some kind of house. He tried to stand up, but then his head started to split in pain. He put his hand to his forehead until he felt the bandages around his head and hot skin by fever. What the hell happened to him?