Lights. Bright white lights searing into his skull. His ears were ringing and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. How was he still here? The bubbling patches on his skin burned like liquid fire in his veins. The blood comprising A-5's ocean had infected him.

But it looked... better. Almost like the infection was receding. An IV drip was taped into his left hand and little oxygen tubes pumped cold air into his nose.

Simon's heart started to pound and he felt nauseous. Images of monstrous teeth and giant eyes swam in his vision. Whispers from people that he wasn't even sure were ever real invaded his mind. Out. He needed out now. Where was he? What were they going to do to him?

He was in the midst of tearing out the tubes and wires when the door swung open. You stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of him trying to bolt on shaky legs. For a moment neither of you moved, neither of you breathed. You didn't want him to run, and Simon didn't know what your intentions were. It was a stalemate.

"Wh.. who are you?" Simon asked, hating how his voice trembled. His throat was unbearably dry. An ocean of blood did no favors for dehydration. Simon was still weak and woozy from his ordeal in the SM-8.