Ryder jerks into consciousness for the second time in one day, with the memories fresh in his mind—the brief sting between the eyes, then nothingness. He's lying in a hospital bed, closed off from the rest of what he assumes to be a medical bay by a curtain.

He touches his forehead—clean, smooth, and unscarred. No entry wound. His mental capacities are running fairly well, as far as he can tell. He swings himself out of bed, testing his muscles. Everything seems to be fine. It's as if he never actually died.

Did the blonde girl really kill him?

As if on cue, the curtain swishes open, revealing the lean, muscled form of a furious man. "You! Princess! You threatened Kitty," he growls, unsheathing a ridiculously long sword. "Prepare to die!"

With no traditional devices to defend himself lying nearby, Ryder improvises by grabbing the bed behind him and throwing it at his attacker. It's a lot heavier than it looks; probably because it doesn't have any electromagnetic suspension that the biobeds he's familiar with have. Just plain metal and plastic—which the guy's sword doesn't have any trouble carving up into multiple flying chunks of debris.

Ryder's speechless; it's not even an energy saber or a sonic blade. It's just a thin metal sword—

Whoait'scomingstraightathim thisguyisridiculouslyfast. He barely slides underneath the blade in time. "Your girlfriend's the one who wanted to shoot first and ask questions later!" he yells, repeatedly leaping backwards as the guy thrusts and jabs at him, tossing as much ancient medical equipment as he can at the swordsman. No luck, though, as the guy easily bisects everything.

The guy's face seems to get angrier at this statement. "She's not my girlfriend!"

"Your sister?" The bulky brunette doesn't even look similar to the petite blond who may or may not have shot him earlier, but Ryder's got more pressing matters on his mind. He searches for openings in the guy's attack, but the long reach coupled with efficient swinging pattern prevents any possibility of slipping past towards freedom.

"No!" the guy roars, thrusting so far that the katana slices cleanly through his khaki suit jacket, through the white shirt underneath, and draws blood from his skin. Just a little scratch, but it brings on a flash of pain that tells Ryder that this is either the highly advanced simulation of an interplanetary training academy... or real life.

Either way, that means he can't actually be dead, can he?

If not, he soon will be: the black guy has been expertly cornering him, and now Ryder has nowhere left to go but forward, straight at his pissed opponent with his impenetrable guard.

"You pissed her off," his opponent growls, readying the sword for a stab through the chest. "Now just die, Princess."

What? Princess?

Ryder braces a foot against the wall behind him, prepared to launch himself the only feasible escape route—underneath the guy's arm—but the guy jerks suddenly, his eyes lolling upwards to look at the ninja star embedded halfway into his forehead.

"Shit, Tina," groans the guy as a stream of blood runs its way straight down the center of his face. Then he collapses bonelessly to the ground.

"Shit, Tina," crows a familiar voice from the other side of the room. Ryder glances at the entrance to the medical facility as Sam strolls in, followed by a girl with silken black hair whose face is mostly concealed by a long, black scarf. "Instant KO, man."

The girl immediately fades into a dark corner, folding her arms across her chest as Sam approaches Ryder. "Sorry about that," he says sheepishly. "Brody's kind of protective of Kitty."

Ryder glares at Sam. "Kind of?"

Sam shrugs. "Death doesn't mean much when you can't die."

"You guys keep saying that, but I'm preeetty sure this guy is very dead." Ryder nudges the limp body with his foot. Brody's blank eyes stare up at the ceiling lifelessly; the trail of blood down his face is starting to crust over.

"I'm pretty sure of that too," agrees Sam. "But not for long." He motions towards the exit. "Com'on, I'll take you to our headquarters."

Ryder loses his breath the moment they step outside.

The world he remembers had been all small spaces: tight tunnels and hallways, teleport pads, cramped quarters, high-density population.

This, in front of him, is open and free and wide, with buildings sparsely dotting the landscape around him and even less people walking around. Sunshine. A breeze tugging at his uniform. Sounds of nature that he'd only heard in simulations of peace and calm... though his ears, trained to pick up even the smallest sounds in the midst of combat, pick up on something he'd never heard in a nature scenario. "Is that… a cat?" he asks tentatively.

Sam's face flushes a furious red. "Ignore her. She's probably stuck in a tree; serves her right."

By turning his head, Ryder manages to pinpoint the unhappy cat's general position—sure enough, in a stand of trees near a courtyard. "What, you know this cat?" he inquires, looking back at Sam.

Sam's face turns a shade redder, if at all possible, and he quickly ushers Ryder into a school building. "I know that she's annoying," he mutters. "Here, follow me up here."

Sam quickly rushes up the nearest staircase, skipping every step in a hurry to reach the top. Ryder glances once more out to the tree with the cat stuck in it—it's got a height advantage, giving a great viewpoint of the entire cafeteria courtyard—before following Sam, one step at a time.

And then his foot lands on a squeaky step.

Sam yells something in panic, but Ryder can't really hear what the blonde had said over the sound of himself screaming as what feels like a million spears suddenly explode from the wall next to him, passing through his body on their way to the opposite wall.

If Ryder was unsure that Kitty had truly killed him the first time, he's pretty sure he's dead this time around.