Marcus was alone in the room. He stood next to the table that had held him only moments ago. Upon further inspection he decided that it was more like a thin, soft, bed than the dissection table he expected. There was no visible machinery in the room. A dim glow radiated from strips of lighting placed midway up the walls. The space gave him the impression of a hotel room. The décor was nondescript. A small table with a lamp on top and two chairs by its side sat across the room. They were of sturdy construction and looked like they were meant to withstand the use of scores of people yet still somehow remain aesthetically pleasing. The door that the doctor had used as an exit was on his right. To his left was a narrow door that supposedly led to a dressing room. He realized he was still naked.

Marcus entered the small adjacent room. It was no bigger than a very small bathroom. A thinly padded bench ran around the perimeter of the room. A small but bright light flooded the space with a harsh radiance. The entire wall opposite the door was mirrored. Marcus was shocked by his reflection. The face was most definitely his own, but he had changed. The lines in his face were gone. His hair was back where it belonged. He looked younger, yet his eyes retained the quality of one who had seen things most men had not. His body was, well, perfect. He looked like a modern Vitruvian man. His six-foot one inch frame was essentially unchanged, but he was more muscular. He flexed his arm. Michelangelo could have been his creator. Every scar he had ever earned was gone. Even his tattoo was missing.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

He noticed a folded garment lying on the bench. He picked it up and examined its construction. It resembled a wetsuit yet he could tell that there were minute wires and sensors embedded within its fibers. It was remarkably light, though it seemed incredibly strong. Marcus decided he may as well try it on. The alternative was to face his captors stark naked. He zipped the garment up to his neck. The suit fit like a sock that had been worn already. It was baggy in all the wrong places. It covered his entire body, leaving only his head and hands exposed.

"This looks like hell."

He looked down and noticed a small light flashing at his left wrist. He reached down to examine it. When Marcus touched the light, the suit reacted. All of the baggy places sucked in and the garment sized itself to his body. It fit like a custom made body suit.

"Can this get any stranger?"

At that moment the doctor's voice came over a hidden intercom.

"Sergeant Winborn, would you join us in the briefing room?"

The door to the dressing room silently slid open. The door the doctor had used to leave earlier was open as well. Marcus crossed the room and walked through the door to a larger briefing room. The doctor stood alongside of a man dressed in a military uniform. The man was in his late fifties or early sixties. His face was stern with military experience. Marcus could tell from the insignia that the man was a colonel of the United States army. He instinctively saluted. The colonel returned his salute and replied, "At ease son, we'll begin shortly." Marcus didn't notice that a female attendant had entered the briefing room from the opposite side. When the movement caught his attention, Marcus glanced over at the opposite side of the room. He felt his entrails grow cold. He almost shouted,

"What's SHE got to do with all of this?!?"