Prologue – A Red-Letter Day
It had started like any other day. Nothing of real description happened, the sky was uncertain, looking like it might rain, but too light to guarantee it. The internet and cable had gone down, so I had only my family to talk to. Such complaints seem silly now, and what would instill that view in me were the events that would soon unfold.
It was summer, a cool breeze and warmth caressed my face as I decided to enjoy the simple things by laying down on a bench on the front porch. I lazily looked over from the bench to the street and noticed the mail truck had come. Oh, goody. I roused myself and moved towards the simply electrifying prospect of finding out what new junkmail had come. As I prepared to cross the street, I heard some small explosions to the east. My overactive imagination jumped to gunshots and mob activity, but I wrote it off as nothing. I slowly let it sink away from my conscience, and proceeded to check the mail.
A thunderbolt erupted in the distance, creating a large thunderclap. It had startled me, but the uncertain sky reminded me that it was within the realm of possibilities. Weirder things had happened. There were screams. Did it start a fire?, I thought. Suddenly, I heard an engine roar in the east. It was a faint, but distinctly odd sound. It wasn't loud enough to be a muscle car, yet it definitely wasn't quiet enough to be modern. There was a buzz to it, but not on the level of a rice-burner, but a very loud, deep and ominous buzz. I looked up the road, past the hill, and saw a flat-green truck lurking over the horizon, sporting a giant, red star on the side, complimented by men with guns in the back.
I threw myself into a drainage ditch as the truck passed by, as an AK fell out of the back and caught my attention. They turned down my house's driveway and got out. Some were dressed in forest camo, others in street clothes. One had red and white grenades clipped to his belt. From what I could tell, they weren't foreigners, judging from their lack of any discernable accent. I couldn't hear them very well from my hiding place, I heard something about "the acquisition of items deemed important to the revolution." The Red Star and the AK made my mind jump to a conclusion: Americans who had defected to some kind of Communist Nation, or people who wanted to make it seem that way. One wearing a trench coat and red gloves pointed to the door, and two started picking the lock. I then did one of the most foolhardy things I had ever done. I picked up the AK, I looked at the threat. As I cocked it, I thought about calling the police. As I snuck up and yelled "HANDS IN THE AIR!", I realized that I couldn't win.
Chapter 1
Who. What. Where. When. Why. These are the questions that are normally asked by someone who has lost his memory. And here I am asking myself them. I forcefully pried open my eyelids and found myself in a hospital room. The interior was Spartan, lacking any sort of posters or decoration, save for a few Chinese knockoff-looking monitors and a houseplant, which a quick glance revealed to be fake. I tried to grasp at any knowledge that would tell me where in the world I was. It was no use, most of the text was in incomprehensible symbols, the only discernable English was badly translated, giving me the impression that I was outside the… United something-or-other. I looked out the window. I saw clean, featureless skyscrapers, and stone landscaping with various (presumably real), plants down below. Overall, a generic urban environment unsuitable
I heard "Umm… Hello?", and turned my head around to see a mildly-attractive pink-haired lady in a nurse's outfit, though her voice conveyed a vapidness which I would consider uncharacteristic of a nurse. She motioned for me to follow her. As I got out of the bed, I had major aches in my leg. I saw that I was fully clothed, though I was expecting a hospital gown. I followed her out of the room and to the reception desk. Along the way I saw the "Civilian Wing" which was much dingier, and noticed that I was coming out of the "Military Wing". While my memory wasn't good, I had an inkling that I wasn't in the military. She handed me a bag full of what looked like scrap metal and some finely polished wood. She said "These were with you when we found you, so uhh, these are yours. Oh, and we weren't able to find your ID, so you'll be put in a temporary apartment." As I shuffled to the elevator, I heard a small cry from some kind of an animal. I caught only a glimpse of fire and orange it before the doors shut, and I could barely register what I saw. Did I just see… A lizard on fire?
Chapter 2
I looked at the temporary ID card I had been given, it was a flat-designed card, with an address to the apartment. I looked at it to see what country it was from. "Unova", it read. I drew a blank. The signs were all multilingual, though suffering from Engrish. I looked around for a taxi, but there were no cars in the area, something I considered strange for a modern city. I managed to find a subway leading assigned apartment, which was surprisingly clean, compared to what I've heard about subways. As I exited, I noticed a strange man eyeballing me. His hair was long and greasy, his clothes stained by what smelled of ramen, and his overall appearance was that of a 30-year-old neckbeard. He ran up to me and nervously said, "Are you a tt-ttt-rai-ai-nuur? DD-dd-oooo you ww-want to baddul?" I replied, "I haven't the foggiest idea of what you're talking about." He frowned and said "NO. You aa-re a tt-trainer. Whip out your p-ppokeballsss!"
"Yeah, I'm going to leave now.", I said dismissively as I walked away. Infuriated, the neckbeard ran up to me, screaming "SHOW ME YOUR B-BALLS!" and reached for my pants. I reactively punched him in the face, sending him toppling backward onto the floor. Realizing the scene I had made, I booked it in the opposite direction and blended into the crowd before the police arrived.
I eventually found the appartment building, a stone tower dotted with windows, with a sign reading, "PUBLIC BUILDING 64: APARTMENT COMPLEX" over the entrance. The inside was minimalist, consisting of flat-colored vinyl tiles, concrete, and stainless steel. The elevators played some of the worst electronic music I have ever heard.
I unlocked the apartment with the ID card, and stepped inside. It was extremely basic, having only a cheap futon, small closet, knockoff TV, and white walls. At least it came with a bathroom. Wherever I was, it was definitely not home. I took the bag of scrap and laid it on the bed. Something about it seemed wrong to me. Oh, what's this?, I thought, These parts fit together. I slipped each individual piece together, almost like second nature, and before long, I had made something. I inspected some text stamped on the side. "King Arms AKM - Manufactured in USA". I felt something coming to me. I noticed a moving part on the side. I slid it back, and I slid into darkness as I heard it click.