Hey! bestknight32 here! their hopefully wont be any problems with the authors notes now on! changed the title a bit this fic is going to a bit experimental but follow the story for now i might diverge later. Also before anyone reviews on a certain character keep in mind this is from the doctors perspective. Also thank you dahliing once again from that deviant place for making the story! Alright thats all until next time! "Hey Arknights odyssey! bestknight32 here! today im going too show what happens when you upload the next chapter!"


"We should go."

It belonged to the voice that he had now come to realize was Dobermann's, possibly not the first time that she had spoken in an attempt to gain his attention, but her voice now seemed more pointed and less likely to contain much patience left. The Doctor sighed and finally looked in her direction, his face unreadable behind his low hanging hood, but if it were to have been seen it was more than likely that it would contain the smallest hint of annoyance over the unwelcome intrusion to his thoughts. He hadn't had a moment to himself since waking, between the excited reunion with Amiya to the battle that had nearly threatened their lives, it seemed that peace was a fleeting and foreign concept in such a place … and it was only going to prove more chaotic before the day's end.

"Go where?" The Doctor had ensured that his question was neutral, not at all revealing his agitated and slightly irritated state; if Dobermann had realized it she didn't mention it.

"Back to Rhodes Island. I have another team guarding the exit so that we can have a clean escape or … cleaner," Dobermann explained, her eyes unfeeling and her own expression unreadable; it made The Doctor like her even more now that he realized that they both liked to be regarded as closed and tightly bound books.

"They'll be your team for the time being, until we find a way to figure out your amnesia. I'll introduce you once we're outside."

Without waiting to see if The Doctor had anything else to mention or question, Dobermann turned on her heel and began to give out marching orders to the guards and other members of Rhodes Island that had stopped to catch their breath. Much to the Doctor's surprise, although most of them seemed worse for wear and more than a little dejected, all of them leapt to their feet without so much as a grumble of protest; whatever Rhodes Island was they certainly knew how to run a tight ship.

The Doctor took a deliberate step back as chaos ensued, wounded people were being gathered by the healers and the guards were checking their weapons in case they were met with trouble on the outside, of all of this distracted from the fact that Amiya had reappeared at his side with her hands neatly tucked behind her back.

"You alright?"

Her voice was sweet, as was her face, and The Doctor found it difficult to lie to her when she looked up at him with such limitless adoration.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

His assurance was concise and tone was clipped, perhaps even bordering upon icy, and The Doctor sought to remedy that with a quick and fleeting smile that he wasn't even sure she could see from the shadow that was cast by his hood. He wasn't sure why he cared. It could have been due to several factors, spanning from the fact that Amiya was the first face that he had seen after being trapped in a world of black or maybe, in some small part in a chaotic mind, he remembered her; The Doctor was aware which version of these events she would have preferred.

Amiya didn't speak and simply nodded, a sort of resigned response as she took her leave just as Dobermann approached and tilted her head to the long hallway to signal that they were about to leave. Not caring for protocol, and not truly knowing if one existed, The Doctor started to walk down the hallway and quickly realized that he was being almost escorted through it with guards that surrounded him in the front and back with Amiya and Dobermann taking up each of his sides. It was noted but not brought to attention as they continued to walk the way that they came, ignoring the previous chaos and rubble, and made their way towards the exit and out into the streets.

How long had it been since he had seen the sky? Had it always been overcast and choked by smoke and cinders? The Doctor looked up slowly, as if expecting some sort of radiant blue, but all he was met with was the morose covering of war and chaos that seemed to choke everything in this place.

The streets were already bustling with some sort of commotion, the smell of fire and rage carried in the near night air, and it was clear from the way that guards tightened and their weapons were drawn that they were not expecting it. The Doctor, doing his best to peer between the space of the guards shoulders, could only see so far down the street to some chaos and commotion that was boiling over in the form of some skirmish. Large groups of men dressed like Reunion members were seen throwing rocks and rubble at a small faction of similarly dressed guards, a fight that was antagonistic but was verging upon violence, and caught in the middle was a small girl and her parents.

The girl was crying and clutching tightly onto a teddy bear as her mother, already bent down on her haunches next to the small girl to provide cover, appeared to argue with the father passionately who tried desperately to force them all out of the street. Fire and screams raged around them but there they were, just the three of them, the nearly perfect picture of a family that was being literally ripped apart by the conflict.

"What's going on?"

Dobermann's voice was loud and commanding as it was directed towards some of the guards in the front who, despite their training and expertise, seemed genuinely shaked by what was playing out in front of them. Their silence aggravated Dobermann who pushed forward, shouldering into the guards so that she could emerge in the front to take stock of what was going on, and whatever conversation that was transpiring between her and the guards could only be heard in segments by The Doctor who remained firmly fixed in the middle of their protective circle. His eyes darted around, slightly annoyed that he was being treated like such a fragile prize but, in a moment of clearer thinking, it only seemed logical to protect him when they had gone through so much trouble to retrieve him in the first place. The Doctor rose up onto his toes to look over the guards heads, his view only slightly restricted now so that he could see what appeared to be a sort of uprising; it wasn't as chaotic as it had seemed at first glance. A large group of what looked to be Reunion members we're pushing forward against a smaller row of guards, their weapons drawn and shouts and orders being given that were not heeded, and when the sound of one of the weapons firing rang out it was like a tentative hold on peace had been tethered.

Violence erupted with precision and anger as the Reunion members fought back, a driving force that appeared far too sophisticated to be happenstance, but just as The Doctor took a step forward to further assess the conflict he was pushed back against the safety and cover of a small alleyway.

"What...what are they doing?"

"They're rebelling against Ursus…."

"What?!"

The Doctor was quick to note the exchange between two guards, more their terse and shocked tone rather than the words themselves, but before he could open his mouth to speak he was interrupted by Dobermann who seemed to pull Amiya off to one side to engage in a hushed exchange.

"No. This was planned…"

"We have to help…"

"Amiya, we-..."

The Doctor averted his eyes and ceased his eavesdropping when he saw Dobermann turn her gaze upon him, her almond eyes and brightly coloured gaze scrutinizing him for what seemed to be like an eternity before the frantic and almost desperate pleas of Amiya served as a saving grace when Dobermann left him well enough alone. From what he could see, and judging from the defeated and reluctant sigh that left Dobermann, it appeared that whatever Amiya had wanted was being given as another set of commands were being given … before a finger was pointed in her direction.

"Amiya. Take two guards with you and take The Doctor back to Rhodes Island. I'm not going to have this whole mission be a waste with him slowing us down."

The Doctor recoiled at her words as if offended, a verbal slap to the face, and it was without words that he served a rebuttal in the form of his glare; even without his memories he knew that he could keep up and, at least to him, serve as a more important member than Dobermann gave herself credit for. The bruise to his ego aside, The Doctor relented to her wisdom and allowed himself to be taken down the alleyway by Amiya and the guards while Dobermann and the rest of them armed themselves and prepared to enter the rebellion.

The Doctor, deciding that he far preferred Amiya's company anyways, turned to follow her down the alleyway and was flanked by two masked and unnamed guards. As an aside, he wondered if he knew their names in a previous life, with his previous memory, and now they were nothing more than faceless entities that seemed perfectly fine that they had been tasked with protecting him with their lives.

Value. It was subjective. Without being able to properly sit down and discuss his past, or even his purpose, it was beyond The Doctor's comprehension that his life would be worth more than any of them … especially given the powerful and unfathomable scope of their abilities.

He was lost in his own thoughts when he almost collided into Amiya who had stopped, apparently deciding that this lonely corridor was a good place to seek momentary refuge as she began to dive and sift through her side bag. A guard stood in front of her with a posture of defeat, his shoulders slumped forward as a sigh escaped his lips, but if Amiya took note of his response to her actions then she didn't allow it to deter her.

"I'm fine. Honest."

The guard seemed dejected but he didn't move as Amiya pulled out a syringe and bit down on the lid to expose it's long and slender needle.

"You know you need your regular injections to slow the symptoms," she warned, her tone and her look almost seemingly matronly as she looked over at the guard from atop her nose. There seemed to be little room for argument as Amiya held out her free hand for the guard to give her his arm … his reaction was not immediate.

"We really need to be taking him back. I'll be fine," the guard continued to urge, and to Amiya's credit, she seemed more genuinely concerned than exasperated by the guards stubborn rebuttals.

"You said you were dizzy…"

"That might not have anything to do with it!"

Amiya didn't argue back. The girl, for all her small stature and gentle appearance, remained stoic and waiting with almost a subtle smile on her lips that eventually coaxed compliance from the guard who begrudgingly rolled up his sleeves and allowed Amiya to inject him in the forearm.

"Symptoms?"

The Doctor heard himself speak after Amiya had placed the syringe back in her bag, a confused expression wrinkling her face before a dawning, a realization, almost as if she had forgotten the state that he was in. Amiya smiled warmly at the guard in thanks before closing the flap of her bag and leading their way down the alley once more.

"The purpose of Rhodes Island isn't just research but to find a cure for all Infected. That's what makes us different from Reunion … in some ways. In most ways they're just like us. We're all tired of the way we have been treated. We just … don't agree on how to make it better."

It appeared that Rhodes Island had taken a pacifist stance while Reunion had taken an extremist view; both sides of the same coin, both afflicted by the exact same illness, yet had adopted starkly contrasting views on how to deal with the problem. The Doctor wondered, at least cynically and privately to himself, if not all of Rhodes Island would eventually turn to the credo of Reunion after enough time and objectification.

It was ignorance that separated the Infected from the rest of the population, or some act of fear mongering on behalf of the government, but whatever the overarching plan it was clear that there were real lives and livelihoods at stake … and it had been his task to find a cure to resolve it all.

There was nothing more than a hum that left his lips to signal that he had heard her words, even though it seemed as if Amiya was waiting for some answer or some reassurance that he would continue his life work … for her sake. His eyes turned to hers for a moment, shadowed while hers were bright, and he felt a tiny tinge in his chest when he saw the hope that continued to sparkle in her gaze despite the wartorn atmosphere they had settled in for a moment. For her sake, or perhaps for his own, The Doctor watched himself reach a hand out and place it on her petite shoulder before giving her a small squeeze, the very depths of a reassuring act that he could muster for her at the moment.

"We should keep going," he prompted softly and for his own benefit he chose to omit the saddened expression that crossed over her face.

Amiya, to her credit, squared her shoulders rightly and shook the emotion on her face before tilting her chin down the alleyway to gesture for the guards to continue. The Doctor, upon seeing that she had left the topic of conversation alone, let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and placed his hands mindfully in the pockets of his jacket as he followed along behind his escort.

As they continued, the group passed by a shop window with a television display, the images immediately reminding them of the chaos that they were in now but the words that were scrolling at the bottom of the newscast couldn't have been farther from the truth.

"CHERNABOG MILITARY SUCCESSFULLY CONTROLS INFECTED RIOT …."

The Doctor stopped in front of the window and watched the broadcast with a scoff; it was clear that not even the media were being honest about the depths of division that had been boiling over. It had spilled out on the streets, threatening the lives of regular citizens, but still they were being lied to. The hands inside of his jacket pocket were now balled into fists, physical manifestations of his anger and frustration, but whereas he was driven to passion the rest of his group seemed to wallow in their dejection. l

As the broadcast continued on, The Doctor tuned out the information and instead looked at their faces, or what expressions he could see behind masks and gear, and could see that the false depiction of events had brought a sadness upon them. In silence he was left wondering how long things had been like this, what kind of effect it had had on them all, and if they had ever known peace.

"What a load of crap," one guard grumbled under his breath, his weapon shouldered higher against his chest as if trying to create space between him and the screen.

"Come on," Amiya urged, a tender hand laying over his gloved one gently. "We have to meet the auxiliary team at the rendezvous point."

"Dobermann told you about the other team, right?"

"She may have mentioned something," The Doctor replied in a way that effectively hid his innate curiosity over meeting more members of Rhodes Island.

What were their powers? What was the rate of infection and how did it deteriorate? There were too many questions and not enough time, not enough answers, and The Doctor was itching to find a well stocked laboratory to try and ease his anxious need for resolution; he didn't voice this, given the current gravity of events, in fear that it would appear tactless.

"They're great. You'll like them," Amiya continued over her shoulder as she marched out front, providing a reassurance that was neither asked for or needed. The Doctor knew that he wouldn't remember them, and all that would be waiting for him would be another awkward round of questions regarding his amnesia and the heartache and dismay that would be painted on their faces as they realized their savior was incapacitated.

They walked in careful silence, navigating through side streets and alleyways to try and avoid the conflict that could still be heard rumbling and raging on a few streets over, but the sound of quickly approaching footsteps caused their little troop to be still in fear of being discovered. Amiya rose her hand to halt them, all four of their hearts racing at a feverish beat, but a group of individuals turned the corner with purpose in their steps and their faces almost seemed relieved to see Amiya; her expression was much the same, with shoulders softening from their hunched position and her still feet moving her forward into a sprint towards a woman who had been leading the pack.

"Melantha!" Amiya's cry was bright, a sense of comfort in her voice, and it was almost as if she was preparing to embrace the other woman, now known to be named Melantha, before she thought better of it and simply stood in front of her.

The other woman had a harder face than Amiya's, much like Dobermann's, with long and sweeping dark purple hair that was crowned by a similarly coloured set of ears; it wasn't until further inspection that The Doctor noted that she had a tail in the same hue that was casually swaying behind her. A long sword, possibly a katana of some make, rested fully against her back and made her into quite an imposing sight … especially when bright purple eyes flicked in his direction and caused his body to tighten.

"Doctor," she greeted with a slight tilt of her chin, a gesture that he returned before he watched as Amiya took hold of Melantha's elbow and pulled her off to the side. Whispers were exchanged, hushed and unintelligible, but when Melantha looked up to meet his gaze again with a sense of horror it was clear what news Amiya had shared with her.

This is the part that The Doctor detested, the varying looks of pity and dread that became common reactions to the news of his amnesia, and this feeling spread through the new group like a virus until they were all looking over at him with the same shocked expression.

"Should we really be standing here?"

His question was gruff as annoyance made its way into his tone over being considered a spectacle or some fallen Messiah.

Another girl stepped forward in front of him, ears and a tail much like Melantha's but more resembling a fox than the other's more feline qualities, and she adjusted a rather large and heavy looking shield that seemed far too burdensome for someone of her size. The Doctor arched a brow, his eyes falling until they met her own, and it seemed as if she wished to offer him a timid smile in the way of an apology.

"We've already secured our route back to Rhodes Island," she explained, her voice sweet and airy as she gave the information. "I'm … I'm Cardigan."

An introduction, or rather a reintroduction, and Cardigan seemed to take it upon herself to reintroduce him to the group who had still yet to speak after receiving the news of his fate.

"That's Melantha," she continued, pointing to the woman that Amiya had seen as a saving grace only moments earlier.

"Adanchiel," Cardigan pressed forward, pointing at a young boy with a crossbow in one hand … and something that resembled a crooked halo that floated above his head. Adanchiel had a kinder smile and an almost gentle presence, with golden eyes that illuminated as much of his face as his halo did, and The Doctor found his smile to be the most disarming.

"I'm glad we found you," Adanchiel offered, his voice almost musical, but the aria was lost as the final two members stepped forward together and found the initiative to continue their own reintroductions.

"Steward."

"Ansel."

"Mhm…" The Doctor replied with presumed disinterest when, in reality, he found them all to be quite fascinating in their own way but was trying not to be overwhelmed.

Steward seemed to have a cockier smile and, for that, a more expressive and obvious face; he commanded space and knew it. Everything about him seemed to be self-assured, from the way that he stood with a slight lean and his free hand crooked into the belt loop of his pants, to the smaller and more agile looking sword he toyed with lazily between his fingers.

Ansel seemed less interested in … anything. There was a utility belt strapped around her waist, filled to the brims and slots with all types of syringes, but just as The Doctor moved his mouth to ask what they were she turned on her heel, nearly causing a cascade of pink hair to whip him in the face, before turning her attention towards one of the guards that had previously escorted The Doctor to their location.

"He's had his injection?" Her voice was not stern but it wasn't much of … anything. Words to be spoken to gain information; nothing more and nothing less.

"A few minutes ago," Amiya confirmed with a solid nod before she took a breath, as if realizing how overwhelmed The Doctor would be in the moment, and gave yet another reassuring smile that had such an effect that he wondered if that wasn't part of her skills in The Arts.

"You'll learn everyone's names eventually."

The Doctor gave nothing more than a nod as he watched Amiya turn her attention back to Melantha, the rest of the team turning their attention to the exchange before looking out into the empty street in front of them; possibly going over the next steps of the plan now that they were together. It was idly that he turned his attention to one of the two guards, the one that hadn't received his injection like the last, and The Doctor quirked his brow upward when he saw how subtly his hand had begun to shake. The guard made a valiant attempt to hide it, his gloved hand was squeezed tightly around the hilt of his crossbow to try and suppress the quivers, but The Doctor had a keen eye and was not so easily swayed away from the details whilst everyone else seemed to be preoccupied. When the guard saw him approach there was a visible bristling of his posture, his spine was straight and his chin was tilted upward, a sign of respect was it's assumed intention but The Doctor didn't pay it any mind as he reached out and covered the guards hand with his own.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Sir. I'll get looked at once we return you back to Rhodes Island."

The Doctor was not one easily dismissed, or even lied to, but he did relent a fraction as he stepped back and returned his hands to the refuge that his pockets provided.

"What happens … if you go too long with your injection?" The Doctor's tone was clinical, as if speaking to a patient but, from what he could discern, it was him that had created the temporary vaccine which placed all the Infected under his charge.

Had this burden shaken him in the past? What road had led him to this group, to the creation of Rhodes Island, considering it didn't appear that he was faced with the same ailment that they all did.

The guard seemed uncomfortable by this line of questioning as his eyes darted from his to the group just behind him, all of them still completely engrossed in their conversation, and The Doctor wondered why he would be so hesitant to provide the information. Of course, there was likely a personal and emotional element to discussing what was slowly killing him, but The Doctor was not the type to get wound up in such affairs. Knowledge was power; everything else was either weakness or frivolous.

"I don't know if…"

The guard trailed off, his free hand rising to scratch the back of his head anxiously as he averted his eyes from The Doctor's and stared hard at the ground beneath his feet.

"I think maybe you should talk to Amiya about that…-"

"I'm asking you."

The Doctor had cut off the man's deflection with an unmoving stare and a solid stance, the kind that didn't leave room for him to refuse, and it appeared that despite his amnesia those around him still held high respect for his request. He wasn't sure how hard and fast he could leverage his authority, or whether or not this was all put on for his benefit given his predicament, but without truly knowing his past life there was a certainty that came with knowing that he was always one to easily assert command. It was with a sigh that the guard admitted defeat and began to answer with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"The beginning is different for everyone but the end is always the same."

There was sadness in the guard's words, of that The Doctor was sure, but he didn't speak to it and instead kept silent which urged the guard to continue.

"It's all from Originium exposure. The skin starts to get all hard from where you caught it. It can get all black and burning. I've seen a few guys die from the pain of it all. Then you have them…" the guard trailed off, his chin tilting over The Doctor's shoulder to the Operators.

"They use their Arts and make it worse, makes it all go faster, but they don't got much choice. The symptoms are different for everyone but none of it is good. In the end, the injections help, but over time if we don't find a cure … we're all gonna crystallize into the stuff and pass it on. I guess that's the worst part … knowing what's gonna happen but not knowing when."

The Doctor was silent as he processed this information with nothing more than a nod, and even though the guard lacked detail in his recounting, there was no doubt that there was one conclusion he could take from this.

"So the mortality rate is near 100%?"

It was in hindsight that The Doctor thought that this was an insensitive clarification, especially considering he just asked the guard to confirm that his death was imminent and assured, but it was to the guards credit that he simply nodded in response. There were no words, not at first, as if there was a parched throat and sentiment and reality were much too heavy for the truth but the guard soldiered on after an abrupt clearing of his throat.

"It'll get us all in the end. The injection buys us time so that we … so that you can find a cure."

There was a slight flinch in The Doctor's expression at the guard's final words, a burden being placed on his shoulders to save an entire group of people from an infection that seemed dire and had already claimed so many lives. Perhaps an altruist would have found this to be fulfilling work, giving back to the world and a community, but it was vanity that drove The Doctor to reconsider his position and his drive to find this heralded cure that they all so desperately needed.

Was he an unfeeling man? The Doctor wouldn't say that he was, but he wouldn't hold a dying man's hand when he could instead be working to prevent another one from occurring.

"Doctor?"

Melantha's voice could be heard behind him, and although there were a whole host of questions that he wished to ask the guard, it seemed that their consultation was cut short by the intrusion of his team member. He turned and looked down at her, noting how her ears twitched and worked much in the same way that Amiya's did, and her steely stare matched his gaze for a moment as if she was asserting herself in comparison to his presence. It was a wordless exchange, one that The Doctor found to be quite humorous, but he had always held great respect for those that held their gumption when faced with his rather blunt way of being … or so he thought. So many aspects of himself and his personality seemed new to him, like an old piece of clothing that had once been lost in the back of a wardrobe; did it still fit properly or had it been shed like a second skin? There was no way of telling what he was or how he had acted before the amnesia, or even if his demeanor and personality had changed, but who he was seemed less important than what he was … and what he was still was brilliant and driven towards finding this cure.

"We're ready to go," Melantha finally announced and it was obvious that the Operator's behind her were all waiting on his word to move forward.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Home."