CHAPTER ONE

**Monday, October 30th, 3000**

I woke up in a sterile room, greeted by the smell of bleach and strong medication. The bed I was laying on was slightly uncomfortable. I couldn't decide whether it was too soft or too hard, but one thing was for sure - not enough stuffing.

My first instinct was to bolt up and scan my environment. The bolting up part didn't go as planned. The moment my head left the pillow it was met with a sharp pain that shot through and disoriented me for a second. Slowly the pain faded to a dull throb and I scanned the room. The walls were white and plain, no furnishing apart from a small wall TV on the other end of the room, a cupboard at the bottom of the TV, a door left open that from the looks of it led to a bathroom, another door next to the TV with a small tempered glass opening that looked like an exit, and equipment that seemed to be monitoring something.

I followed the wires on the equipment, tracing where they connected so I could find what it was monitoring, and to my surprise it was monitoring me. I looked at my arm where the monitors were connected and muttered, "Weird, I couldn't even tell it was connected." My voice was hoarse from lack of use - a bad signal, because that meant I'd been out for longer than expected. Judging from the hoarseness, a day or two.

I flexed my arms and wiggled my toes. Didn't know why, guess I was just trying to make sure everything was in order. After doing that I removed the cords connecting the equipment from my body and slowly got on my feet. Didn't want to trigger another major headache.

I gently got on my feet and slowly walked towards the bathroom, taking note of how my body moved - sluggish, more sluggish than the usual just-got-out-of-bed sluggish. It felt like I was carrying a heavy load or something.

I made my way to the sink, turned on the tap and washed my face. The water felt oddly nice. Perfect water pressure. The tap didn't run too slow or too fast. For some reason something in me told me that wasn't something I saw everyday.

After drying my face with a towel I found hanging on the rack, I looked at the mirror. My dark medium-length hair dripping from the water, the bangs covering my forehead, my face covered in little stubbles that formed a beard and moustache pattern, the darkness of the hair being further highlighted by my dark skin.

I looked down at my neck and I was wearing some sort of silver neck chain that had the words "A.B zone one colonel" engraved on it. I found it odd as I muttered, "What's this?" I played with the pendant trying to remember. No matter how hard I tried my brain came up blank, and only then did it hit me that apart from my name and my age I didn't remember much. I was Arthur Blackfield, from what my brain told me I'd spent thirty-three years in this world and judging from my chest and forearms I wasn't all that bad in terms of body figure.

I was still trying to sort myself out when I heard a door open and footsteps coming in. My body instinctively went on guard. I was turning around before I even thought about it, senses suddenly heightened, brain suddenly aware of everything as I approached the bathroom doorway to see who had walked in.

My hand slid to my thigh, into a mini pocket in my trousers, and pulled out a small hunting knife that I didn't even know I had. Cautiously moving forward, making as little sound as possible, I carefully poked my head out to observe who had just entered. Upon seeing the person my guard lowered. He wore a lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck and had a name tag that read "Dr Martin." I quickly slipped the hunting knife back into my pocket.

I fully emerged from the bathroom, still a bit cautious. My brain told me that it may have been someone in disguise but his stance indicated that he didn't have any form of combat experience. For some reason I could see a whole bunch of openings and my brain had already wired several possible attack patterns.

The doctor seeing me had a look of complete shock on his face, as if me moving was some sort of miracle, before he schooled his features back to a relaxed state as he said to me, "Colonel Arthur, I'm surprised you're even up, we estimated you would still be out for another 3 days."

I stared at the doctor, confused, my brain still processing "colonel." I looked at him and asked, "Me? Colonel?" For some reason he thought I was from the military.

The doctor hearing what I said gave me a grave look as he tapped his watch. A hologram of charts and graphs with some drawings appeared in the air as he muttered, "It's as we thought." He then tapped the watch again, the holograms vanishing, as he stared at me with a serious look, saying, "Colonel Arthur, it seems like the bullet that got lodged in your head may have damaged some parts of your brain. We believe you will make a full recovery but as for the estimated time..." He paused. "I really can't say."

Feeling completely confused and having second thoughts on if the doctor was an actual doctor or just a guy trying to pull a trick on me, I asked, "You're saying I'm a soldier? Is this a sick joke or what? And what the hell did you mean bullet wound?" I paused, my brain already beginning to fill the gaps. His story explained the necklace - A.B would have probably stood for Arthur Blackfield - and being shot in the head would explain the throbbing pain.

The doc hearing my questions and seeing the look of confusion I seemed to have failed to hide said in a simple tone, "You're in a military hospital, Colonel. A military hospital in a secured military base. We don't treat non-military personnel."

As if knowing that explanation wasn't enough, he pulled out a black rod-like object as he said, "Would you be kind enough as to show me your left hand?" Feeling a bit reluctant I did as he asked and showed him my arm. He simply hovered the black rod against a scar on my arm. I didn't remember ever having the scar but it looked deliberate, the zigzag pattern that almost looked like a lightning bolt, too symmetrical to be something done by incident.

The moment the rod hovered against the scar, the mark glowed faint blue and a hologram was projected from the rod. The blue screen showed a picture of me and beside the picture were classifications and stats.

NAME: ARTHUR EOBARD BLACKFIELD. RANK: 1ST RATE COLONEL. DANGER LEVEL: ATOMIC. SKILL RATE: 9/10. CYBER COMPATIBILITY: AVERAGE.

I stared at the hologram, stunned, muttering, "What do you know, I guess I am a soldier." I slowly withdrew my hand, my brain still coming to terms with the whole thing, when the doctor revealed a journal from within his lab coat, handing it over to me as he said, "Standard procedure, Colonel. For patients with amnesia, writing down their current experiences is usually helpful."

Feeling a bit reluctant I took the journal from him, asking, "How would having a diary work? I find these things to be a hassle." The doctor heard what I said and gave a small smile, as if he'd heard such complaints before, saying, "Journal, Arthur, not diary. You don't write your deepest darkest secrets in there like some girl or emo teenager, just things that happened to you recently. Your brain is most likely still healing so writing things down would help cement your current memories." I nodded in response to what the doctor had said. It made sense, even though I found it a hassle, the whole routine of having to write everyday felt like some kind of job, but that's how I ended up writing in this diary, sorry meant journal.

**Tuesday, OCTOBER 31ST, 3000**

The rest of the day was nothing I felt was writing worthy and in all honesty I was too busy wrapping my head around the whole Colonel thing to think about writing. Basically I went through a bunch of tests and I was made to stay in the hospital for the night and the doc told me that if everything played out like we hoped I'd be discharged today.

I was given my phone and a bag that contained some of my clothes and other stuff. Apparently it was the stuff I packed before my last mission where I got mafia'd. Seeing my phone I thought I was finally gonna have some entertainment. That was until I turned it on and remembered that I didn't remember my password.

So that's the story of how I spent my first night watching terrible television before I went to bed.

Today I got up, the throbbing pain in my head had basically gone. I did the usual thing a human does - brushed my teeth, took a shower, put on new clothes: a black inner shirt, black baggy combat pants and a dark red collar shirt with the buttons left undone and the sleeves rolled up to my elbow. I checked all the clothes I had packed in the bag they had given me and it seemed I had a taste for baggy clothing and I was dark color themed.

I rummaged through the bag more and I didn't really find anything like a journal or anything written actually, aside from some worn fantasy novels and a picture of me smiling with some female - probably a sister or cousin or girlfriend or just friend, I didn't know. I didn't find anything that could help me further my knowledge on myself in ways more meaningful than I loved fantasy books and I was an associate to a pretty good looking female.

I stared at the picture closer. The woman seemed Caucasian, judging from her skin tone and blonde hair with blue eyes, so that ruled out sister or cousin and left only girlfriend or female friend. Maybe I had a best friend or something.

While I was still reflecting on the picture, frame in hand, I heard the doctor walk in. I knew it was him, could tell by the footsteps - he walked in an oddly uneven rhythm, one foot hard steps, the other foot soft steps. Probably had a leg injury a while back.

When the doctor came in I gave him a curt smile and greeted him. I remembered saying something along the lines of, "Yo doc, think I can finally be discharged now?" The doc was wearing a corporate look today with the tie and everything but the white coat still on top of everything. I guessed two things: either he was going for an event today or he just wanted to look classy. The doc, looking at the result sheet in his hands, responded in a cheerful tone, "Arthur boy, you're good to go, just come back in once a week for progress reports. We've already called your emergency contact to come pick you up and we've briefed them on your current state."

The doc looked like he wanted to say more but he glanced over at the time on his watch and said, "Well, that would be all, Colonel Blackfield. A nurse will come in to tell you when the person to pick you up has arrived." With that he left the office, making my first guess seem like the more likely winner.

I basically spent the next few hours watching more crappy television before a nurse came in to inform me that the person to take me home had arrived. May I say that this nurse was a beauty - nice even-toned brown skin, long curly hair, a professional smile that highlighted pristine white teeth - and don't get me started on the curves and how much she was packing in the front and back. Okay, I may have been deviating too much. Back to the main course.

Basically I carried my bag from the bed and followed the hot nurse out of the hospital. First thing I noticed when I was out of the hospital walls was the fact that the doctor was right about the location of the hospital - it seemed to be in some kind of highly secure compound, walls that were made of metal and barbed, men in uniform doing different tasks at different stations. Everyone seemed busy, hauling things from one canopy to the other. It took me a minute before my eyes settled on the large metal door a few hundred meters away from the hospital. It was giant and metal and judging from the wheels at the bottom it was a sliding door. My theory was proven right in an instant when one of the guards slid the gate open a bit for a woman - a woman whose features I recognized instantly. She had blonde hair, nice smooth Caucasian skin and seemed to have a much more dominating aura than the picture implied, a bit taller than the picture implied too.

When she saw me she gave a small smile and waved. I waved back. I mean, I didn't know who she was but it felt like it was only proper to wave back in order to not make things awkward. When she was finally within talking distance I couldn't help but notice her smell. It felt familiar. She had the smell of roses and a hint of wildflower and for some reason it felt like a safe place. I didn't need memories to know that she was obviously someone I held in high regard.

She smiled at me as she said, "If it isn't Arthur Blackfield, you're really one tough son of a bitch, ain't ya? Doctors told me you wouldn't be conscious for another day or two. How ya feeling?" For some reason I still couldn't fully explain I felt relaxed around her, a genuine smirk breaking out as I said, "I don't know, considering the whole I recently had a bullet in my brain thing, I feel quite good. Heart's pumping, joints are moving, I'm good." I then remembered feeling awkward as I looked at her again, saying, "Don't be mad, my memories are kinda gone, so I'm gonna need an introduction."

She barely hesitated, giving me a confident smirk as she said, "I'm Joyce Millers, your confidant and your ride or die." The way she said it so casually, and even considering the fact that the hospital had told her about my condition, she seemed to take it just fine - a bit too fine. Now that I thought about it, even the doctor took the whole thing like it wasn't something that happened rarely.

I decided to keep my thoughts to myself though. Instead I replied to what Joyce had said, saying, "Ride or die, huh? Some claim you've got there, lady. Are you my girlfriend or what?"

I still remembered the way she reacted to the exact detail even though some time had passed since then. Her face flushed a tiny bit and she seemed to resist the temptation of hitting me on the head. Instead she settled with just, "In your dreams, loser. I'm just a close friend. Have known you since the military academy days." She then took my bag from me and basically dragged me along as she said, "Now let's get you out of here before you ask another stupid question."

This was where I ended the journal log for today this whole thing was still a bit new to me and in all honesty kinda exhausting, I'd come back again tomorrow... maybe.