Disclaimer: I don't own anything. REPO! The Genetic Opera is copyright to Darren Smith, Darren Lynn Bousman, and the lovely Terrance Zdunich and so are all the characters contained therein. Please don't hurt me. This is my first time posting fanfiction, so hopefully it's not too horrible.
Shilo walked through the open doors in a state of shock, pausing to look back into the darkened theater. How could she have not looked back? In a single day, she'd lost her father and the godmother she'd only known she'd had for a few hours. More than that, she'd lost her naivety. Covered in blood and numb with grief, Shilo slid into the waiting limo and disappeared into the night.
When he awoke, he didn't know where he was. The white walls were unfamiliar, but the dull beeping in the room was oddly calming. He reached out his hand in front of him and his eyes followed the tubes of the IV from his wrist to the morphine drip on the right of his bed. He realized then that he was in a hospital room. He tried to sit up but he stopped halfway, feeling stitches pulling at the skin of his chest. "When …When did that happen…?" he wondered, "… and what exactly happened?" It was then that he realized he had no memories, neither of himself nor of what might have happened. He just had a clean slate stretching back as far as he could look.
With some effort, he managed to sit up enough to reach the chart at the end of his bed. Grabbing it from its hook, he laid it out on his lap and began to read. Two gunshot wounds to the torso. John Doe. "John Doe? Does no one know who I am?" Even though he didn't feel like a John, it was the closest thing to a name that he had at the moment. "John… John." He murmured it a few times to accustom himself to the name, but it didn't seem to fit. He decided to try again, "Jonathon." That felt more… right somehow. "Jonathon it is, then," he thought.
His eyes moved to the door of the hospital room as it opened, and a woman in scrubs entered with a smile, "Ah, good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Jonathon blinked a few times. There wasn't anything particularly wrong with the woman's appearance, but something felt off in a way he couldn't quite place. "Uh, fine. Thank you," he murmured. It felt rude to stare, but he couldn't pry his eyes away. She seemed overdressed somehow. Jonathon shook his head a few times to put the strange thoughts out of his mind.
The nurse didn't seem to notice anything unusual, however, as she went about checking the various monitors in the room. Jonathon watched her move, captivated. Once her circuit around the room was done, the nurse stopped by his bedside and leaned down to take his vitals, "Now that you're awake, we have some paperwork for you to fill out. The people who brought you in had no information on you." Jonathon froze. How could he possibly explain?
"That… that won't be possible," Jonathon said. The nurse paused and looked at him curiously. He could feel her eyes searching for unspoken answers.
"Why not? Are you in some kind of trouble…?" she asked.
"Not exactly, it's just—" Jonathon started, but the nurse cut him off before he could finish his sentence completely.
"If you are, don't worry. Unlike GeneCo, we have a very strict confidentiality policy—" the nurse began before Jonathon cut her off in return.
"I have no memory."