His head hurt. That was his first conscious thought. His head felt like it had been run over by a bulldozer. He thought back to what he had been doing before… and realized he couldn't remember a thing.

He sat up with a jolt (which didn't help his head any). He couldn't remember his family, friends, or even his own name. A wave of cold fear ran down his body. What had happened to him?

He surveyed his surroundings. It looked like a prison cell. The ceiling and walls were made of a reflective metal, and the floor was covered in black tile. The door of his cell was blocked with bolts of blue voltage. He himself was sitting on a cold metal shelf. He wasn't being restrained but there was very little room between the shelf and the electric doorway, so it didn't really matter. There were other cells in the narrow hallway, but as far as he could see he was the only prisoner there.

He got off of the uncomfortable shelf and stretched his aching muscles as much as the cramped cell would allow. He must have been unconscious a long time, judging by how stiff his muscles felt. As he stretched, he caught sight of his reflection on the metal.

It was strange, and a little bit scary. The face staring back at him should be familiar; it was his own face. He should at least remember that. But the face staring back at him could almost belong to a stranger.

His features were dark, dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. His hair stopped a few inches below his ears, and he had a short goatee. He didn't think he was very old; but he wasn't that young, either. Most of his finer features were covered by a domino mask that took up most of his face.

He wore a black bodysuit that was made out of some pretty tough material. Overtop of the body suit was a large chest plate with the words Soft Bank. Long steel boots and metal gloves with green highlights completed the strange getup. A sliver helmet, with yellow eye slits and carved dark stripes on its faceguard, was lying on the shelf he'd been passed out on. It looked totally cool. But he was getting distracted He needed to get out of this cell.

There was nothing to learn about himself in here.

He put the helmet back on, making sure it was secure. Locking his gaze onto the bars in front of him, he backed up as much as he could, lowered his faceguard, and charged the gate head- on.

He was thrown back almost instantly.

Okay, that wasn't one of his best ideas. But he didn't have any better ones at the moment. He was hoping that his armour could protect him from the shock. Obviously, it didn't.

"Hello?" a startled voice called out. So there were other prisoners after all.

"Hey there," he called back "Who might you be?"

"I can't remember." The voice sounded like a young man's. That made things confusing. They were going to need names.

"You tried ramming the bars, just now didn't you?" the other prisoner inquired.

"Yeah, I know stupid plan. But it was kind of the only plan I had at the time." What would be a good name?

"Yeah…" Something about his neighbours tone suggested that he did something similar. The thought made the armoured man chuckle. "So, that plans a bust. Got any others, Sparky?"

"Sparky?" the neighbour replied, bafflement evident in his voice.

"Yeah. You really need a name if we're gonna get out of here," he said, hoping that his neighbour wouldn't be insulted by his choice of name.

"Fine, as long as it's only till I get my memories back. What do I call you?"

"Just don't call me late for dinner," he quipped.

The annoyed sigh in response told him that his attempt at humour wasn't welcome.

"Or you can just call me Tiger," he added after a quick glance at the silver helmet.

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he got a headache. There were flashes of many different colors. But it was over almost as soon as it began.

"Tiger?" Sparky asked. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I'm fine... Tiger insisted, waving his hands dismissively. He stopped the gesture as soon as he realized that Sparky couldn't see him. "Don't worry, just focus on finding a way to get out of here.

Suddenly the room swayed sharply. Tiger tumbled backwards. Then the room lurched forward, and Tiger grabbed the metal shelf before he could fall into the electric door. There was a brief feeling of weightlessness before a loud crashing sound shook the whole building. A loud flickering sound was heard, then the power went out.

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind." Tiger muttered, stepping out of his tiny cell.

"Well, you don't hear me complaining," Sparky said from somewhere near him. "Now lets get out of here.

Tiger couldn't think of a good comeback to that, so he started to feel his way through the hallway, Sparky following close behind him. It was pitch black, so Tiger couldn't see anything, although it didn't seem to bother Sparky. At least he didn't trip on half a dozen things like Tiger did.

"Do you notice something off about this place?" Sparky asked, his voice sounding tense to Tiger's ears.

"Yeah," Tiger said, dusting himself off after his last slip. "It's a minefield in here." He had meant it as a joke, but now that he thought about it, the place was empty. Even though it looked like a prison they hadn't encountered any other prisoners or guards. Then there was the blackout which still made Tiger a little uneasy.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of Sparky's footsteps getting father away. Not wanting to lose his only companion he gave chase. After a few steps he felt the floor fallout from under his feet. He waved his arms around wildly in a moment of panic; looking for some sort of grip to stop his tumble

Luckily, it was not a very long fall, and something warm and soft had broken it . Tiger sprang to his feet in a hurry when he realized what it was.

"Watch it," Sparky growled. There was a shuffling sound as the young man bushed himself off.

"Sorry," Tiger said sheepishly, as he scratched at the back of his neck. "I'd like to get out of here, though. I have a weird feeling in my gut. And I don't think it was something I ate." Now that he said that, he realized he didn't know when he last ate. That was another thing to worry about.

This state of amnesia kept finding new ways to scare him. Question after question was asked ,and Tiger found that he had no answer.

Where was he from? No idea.

Did he have any medical problems? Sure, he felt healthy enough, but how could he really know for sure?

Did he just meet Sparky today? That question nagged his brain the most. Sparky might be a good friend of Tiger's, or at least a friendly acquaintance. On the other hand, he might also be an old enemy ,or even a murderer.

Tiger's train of thought was broken as his feet found another object to trip over. He crashed and heard a startled noise from Sparky behind him (How had he gotten behind him?) Prompting him to turn around. As he turned his eyes were assaulted by light.

Maybe assault was an exaggeration, but it had still caught him of guard. Blinking to adjust his eyes, he got a chance to look around. The hallway itself was unremarkably plain, but it was littered with scraps of metal. Those must have been what he kept tripping over.

"There's a room over here Sparky, it's got light." Tiger was a bundle of excitement as he all but ran through the door.

Entering the room Tiger saw that the room was clearly built for storage of dangerous stuff. On the wall, toward the left, there was a stack of boxes labelled Fragile , Flammable ,Demonic, Magical and, weirdly enough, Edible. There were racks of weapons against the wall right across from the doorway. The weapons themselves ranged from a rusty katanna, to a sleek sliver revolver, to (oddly enough) a bronze pen. On the remaining wall, there were a couple of glass cases. One held an odd blue box that gave off an eerie glow. The other held a deck of cards. It was quite a bizarre picture, which did nothing to help Tiger's frazzled nerves

"Whoever runs this place has a weird method of organizing," Sparky remarked, sounding amused. Tiger turned towards Sparky to ask what their next plan of action should be, and was not prepared for what he saw next.

Sparky was an alien. Or something. Because he defiantly wasn't human. Granted he was humanoid, and had broad shoulders and a warrior-like stance. He was only slightly taller than Tiger. His body was covered with short, tan-coloured fur, with a lighter shade around his face. He had a spiky red mane, and matching eyebrows. He was dressed in a blue sleeveless shirt, with gray armour over it, and matching pants. His eyes bright green with catlike pupils stared back at Tiger with the older man's shock, fear, and bewilderment reflected in them.

"Gah!" Tiger cried out

In his defense, he wasn't exactly thinking straight. Anyone in his shoes would say the same thing . At least, he thought they would. He was just grateful that he didn't state the obvious.

The lion-human hybrid didn't seem to know what to do either.

But a loud roar that echoed through the building didn't give either of them a chance to figure things out.