You awake in a lab to an artificial clean smell, and feel the sensation of cold metal pressed against your skin, tightly holding you down to what appears to be a table of some sort, perfectly made to fit you. It's actually quite comfortable and isn't all that terrible to lay on, but at the same time, it feels awkward not being able to move and being at such an angle. They appear to have every limb (no matter what kind, or how many) restricted by this table, and held in some way or another. A woman stands right in front of you, staring with a quite calm expression, her face showing somewhat of a disciplined and hardened look as she seems to be writing things down casually between glances at you and your appearance. Ah. I see you're awake. Now, do you have something we can call you? She pauses. Can you even talk...? I hope so, that would make things a lot smoother...