The most distinctive feature one would notice exclusive to a hospital in Corneria City would be the perforating scent of unrelenting sanitizer. Upon regaining consciousness, it was the first sensation Fox experienced to welcome him into his new environment – that environment being drastically different from the last.

Fox's eyelids peeled open as slowly as old hydraulic blast doors, and the aggressive whites of the hospital surroundings penetrated his vision like a laser bolt. He closed his eyes again, already having registered where he was, and released a long, painful groan which lingered throughout the hospital ward.

Everything hurt immensely. Pain was everywhere; not a single part of his body had been spared from some form of violent abuse from his captors. It wasn't just a comprehensive wave of pain radiating through his body, but a series of individual aches, twinges and stings each with their own twisted uniqueness. Although he had not seen them, Fox knew he had I.V. cannulas inserted into each of his arms and hated to think what kind of unbearable agony he'd be suffering without the aid of medicine. He tried to utilize his muscles, but the effort of which only resulted in punishment. Although the hurt lingered, he was indeed grateful that he could feel his limbs.

Fox's body was close to its threshold in coping with his state, and his brain certainly had no time to focus on anything else but persevering through the mental aftermath of what had happened off-planet. If there was one thought Fox had – one smidgeon of curiosity about his situation, it was "How have I survived?"

How have I survived?

How have I survived?

When Fox awoke for the second time, the pain had not subsided but his mind felt clearer. The daylight filling the room through the viewport adjacent to his bed didn't sting his eyes as much. The nurse on duty for his ward had come and tended to him, replacing water for one I.V. and teramadyne for the other, the potent palliative on Corneria; although it did come in various forms and strengths. The nurse was an ovis, and a particularly woolly one. Sometimes the sheep would claim they let their wool grow on the basis of cultural significance, whilst others with the same length of hair were usually street urchins. She seemed nice enough however, and didn't carry around with her that slightly sour odour that many of them did. Her uniform had caught him off-guard when he first saw it, and that was because he recognized the Cornerian military insignia positioned on the left side of her chest – he had been admitted to a military hospital. Why?

Over the course of the days that passed, Fox did little but rest and endure the inexorable taste of hospital fodder. Through his undying vigilance he had convinced the nurse to provide him with only two meals a day as opposed to three, though she wasn't exactly content about it.

The view outside was first-rate Cornerian cityscape. Fox would watch the morning commuters board the sky-trains and disembark at their various destinations. The sky-trains, shiny elongated cylinders aligned with hundreds of tiny viewports wrapped themselves around the skyscrapers like snakes around trees. They pulsated with a blue glow to inform the public when they were in transit (red when stopped), just in case it was not obvious enough by their forward motion. Fox's favourite time of the day was sunset, when the warm orange glow from the east would catch the tops of the sky-trains and create a series of superb silver glimmers across the horizon. After that was darkness, and the light from inside the military hospice would cast a reflection of the interior on the viewport.

Fox often looked at himself at night, often not recognizing the face he saw in the reflection. The auburn coloration of the fur on his face had, over time, lost prominence to the white hairs that had been fighting for facial territory ever since he was a boy. They had banded together to form a pale crest on top his skull, between his ears, that wrapped around to the back of his neck.

His olive green eyes were still the same color as they had been all his life, but somehow they told a different story than they used to. And it wasn't just Fox's brief stint as a Venomian play-toy that had caused that, but something that happened the year prior. The disappearance of his father.

But with Fox's self-prescribed viewport treatment of staring into the world beyond the hospital walls, he thought less about gloomy memories of the recent past and was instead coming to grips with reality again – beginning to accept his circumstances.

But it didn't make him any less angry.

Back near Venom, back in the room, the situation was so foreign, so unknown to Fox that his circumstances had become surreal enough to mute the pain he was suffering. But now, looking back on it, it all felt very real, and his thirst for vengeance may have been greater than it had been beforehand.

A day after Fox's fluid I.V. was removed, somebody in the ward must have reported that he was well enough to receive visitors, because two representatives of the Cornerian Military had come righteously marching in as if the fate of the galaxy was burdened on their shoulders. One was a female canine with rare cherry shade to her fur. Coupled with her white curled hairdo, Fox thought she resembled something he had tried at a Zoness cafe once called a marshmallow.
The other was a lilac male, also a canine, stocky and relatively short. Fox could make all sorts of judgments about why he was assigned administrative duties as opposed to combat action, but he decided not to bother.

The two uniformed soldiers stood at the end of Fox's bed with their hands by their sides.
"Good morning Mister McCloud, I am Corporal Fay Pepper and this is Private Zip Dodson. We hope you are recovering well."
Her voice was as flamboyant as her fur color. There was a certain cheery whistle to it, quite lively, as if there was no job too dull for her interests. She bobbed back and forth on the spot as she spoke, but what excitement she was containing was a complete mystery to Fox.
"Hello" her counterpart said in a monotone fashion that couldn't be more distant from how the corporal's voice sounded.
In response to both of their greetings, Fox only nodded. Corporal Pepper seemed a little disappointed with his lack of enthusiasm but she would have to forgive him. She continued. "We've been assigned to the investigation of your... disappearance and rescue from the Venomians."
Fox blinked and leaned forward slightly.
"You two have been assigned to the investigation?" he asked, bewildered. He looked at the both of them – the corporal was twenty-one at most, and the private might have even been a fresh entry at eighteen.
I would have thought I was a little more important than that.
The private seemed to take some offense at Fox's question, but he just shuffled uncomfortably and cleared his throat. Corporal Pepper mended the moment of awkwardness when she replied.
"We're not running the investigation sir" she said very politely, "we're just here to collect a statement from you."
Fox sighed and shook his head. He didn't have an answer for them.
"But of course" she started, "we could just leave you with the necessary forms and –"

"Who's running the investigation?" Fox cut in. The corporal and private exchanged brief looks, like they were both slightly intimidated by Fox's disinterest in what the conversation should have been about.
"Command have told us you've been assigned to a need-to-know basis and such information will be disclosed to you at the appropriate time" Corporal Pepper assured.
"Of course they have" Fox drifted off. He looked out of the room viewport for a few moments before addressing the soldiers.
"I'm not going to give you a statement, and I'm not going to write one."
Of course, not being military personnel, they couldn't make him do anything. If he wouldn't give the grunts any information, then they'd be forced to assign the regular Cornerian Security Force to deal with him – but they wouldn't want to lose the case to the CSF.
"Sir" Private Dodson said alarmingly, "if you do not either give us a statement, or write one, we cannot guarantee that you won't be arrested for what you've allegedly gone and done."
"That's right, and the CSF will come and do that. But I'll tell you what" Fox said, "I will talk to one guy."
"Is he or she... military?" Fay Pepper asked.
"Well, not exactly."