User:South Ferry/sandbox013

"What catastrophes befell my physical state?"

In the dilapidated, rarely-used android wing of the Masquerade Hospital, Chris Wellington lay on a vertically standing silver table. Shocked by the location, he attempted to move — but metal restraints restricted his arms and legs. Looking down, Chris was surprised to see he did not possess his usual attire. Rather than his orange and blue outfit, he now wore primarily black. Chris wore dark, baggy sweatpants; and a tight short-sleeved sweater with a large hood. A Silivian emblem was embroiled on the left arm. Perhaps if he had the chance, he would get something more like his original clothing.

Adjusting to the unique environment, Chris checked his watch. Looking at it, he knew it had been several hours since the encounter with Fontaine, so the water must have had quite the effect to get him put in here. He sighed with relief, then looked closely at the doorway. Would he ever see Savannah, Atticus, Marshall, or Melissa again?

With the room's silence being broke by Chris' awakening, a man rose from a table and approached the android. The man was the only other person in the large, dusty room. On his table, the man's strange work was showcased. Beakers containing liquids of different colors were being warmed by Bunsen burners. He had left his notebook on the table, filled with mathematical equations and notes.

The man stood above the plans and papers littered throughout the room. His skin was fair and brown, and his hair thick and straight. The man's dark clothes matched Chris' new attire. As he examined the android's progress, an orange cat, the man's pet, jumped on to his shoulders, purring softly.

"You're alive," he said to the android, deeply.

"Uh...just who do I have the honor of addressing?" Chris asked as he investigated the man in more careful detail. "Because, if you must know, I have a rather urgent telephone call to make..."

The man was amused at the android's vocabulary. "'Honor', Cunning? I've certainly never been called that.'" replied the man, as a large meow filled the room. The man's awareness of Chris' series classification filled the android with bewilderment and curiosity. "Welcome, my friend, to the long-forgotten android services of the Masquerade Hospital. I salvaged your body and brought you here, to be rebuilt."

"Thank you very much for your assistance," Chris said. "Now, could you please undo the ropes tied around my levers...er, arms?" He eyed the door carefully.

"Well, I suppose you are in a hurry." The man walked over to the android, undoing his restraints and allowing him to stand. As Chris began to stumble, the man grinned cockily. "Tell me, Cunning. Savannah, Melissa, Atticus, Marshall — they're good people, aren't they?"

"Absolutely, of course they're good people..." Chris said as he got off the bed and cast a glance towards the door. "Wait, how are you aware of them? Could you elaborate?" He was starting to get suspicious.

The man smiled even further. "That is not important. What is important though, is you getting to them as soon as possible. But before you do —" He quickly walked over to his desk. At once, the cat jumped off of his arm and began rubbing its fur against a small, black backpack. The man gently picked it up and presented the bag to Chris. "You might need these for your future journey. Wouldn't want you to be attacked by some unknown rogue assassin again, hmm?"

Chris paused for a second to think about it. "I guess that's a wise choice, always good to have materials, thank you very much," He cautiously took the bag, very curious to know what was in it. As he headed towards the door, he realized he had forgotten something important. He turned to look at the man again. "What do they call you?"

The man looked closely at the android. "About time you asked this, eh Cunning? Samuel. Samuel Brownlee. Based on the stuff you'll find in that bag, I trust this won't be the last time we see each other."

"A pleasure to meet you, Samuel. Farewell," Chris said, as he twisted the doorknob and opened the door, preparing to head out into the decrepit hallway.