Welcome to Gaia! ::

As the young man became aware of his surroundings he was made aware of two things. First, he was inside some kind of tank, floating. Second, he was in agonizing pain, enough to veritably erase all other senses. I can't even remember my own name, he realized. Another lance of pain sent streaks of red into his vision and the young man jerked and tried to cry out, only to be foiled by the breathing apparatus separating him from the liquid in the tank. He thrashed again, and despite the feeling that every muscle in his body was being stabbed he could feel his strength rising. Another thrashing wave of pain arced through him, and when it faded he realized he could see something moving on the outside of the tank that contained him. Another jolt of pain threatened to sink him into a void, inky black and waiting for him. The man struggled. Some instinct in him knew that if he were to fall into that void, there'd be no escape. That realization that action needed to be taken somehow calmed the young man and granted his mind a crystal clarity, even as the cells in his body screamed second after second of excruciating pain,

"...Taken the infusion well," a voice said as the man was able to focus on it. "He's proceeding much better than anticipated. Already his expected level of performance exceeds that of his predecessor." The man in the tank could make no sense of the words, but committed them to memory later, they might be important. What was most important was the fact that the void was gaping open and approaching quickly, impatient for the man to sink into its depths. "In another few treatments, he'll exceed nearly any SOLDIER, excepting perhaps, Sephiroth."

Another voice drifted in through the tank, acompanied by a surge of recognition and a wave of hatred. Though he could not remember how or why, he knew the owner of this voice had betrayed him, submerging him in pain and torment. The owner of that voice had to die. "Excellent. Keep me informed, and continue to administer the treatments, especially around the areas related to memory. I want him to have no chance at recalling any of his past, or what he undoubtedly is going through." The young man summoned his strength. He could break free, and rush the betrayer, snap his neck with little thought and then he would be free, but his strength came sluggishly, and he wondered for a moment if he'd spent to much time and that black void of nothingness was too close for him to fight.

He heard more words beyond his painful, confined existance but paid them no heed as he began to lash out, bringing his strength to bear, crushing that dark void that had been reaching up to engulf him, replacing it with a crimson fire, one that his sharpened mind vaguely recognized as rage. He brought his arms around forward, feeling the glass of the tank that held him crack. Another blow would break it. The sounds from outside raised in frequency and pitch, undoubtedly from surprise and fear at his escape. He swung forward again, breaking the glass open and sending the fluid in the tank gushing out. The young man followed on the momentum of his blows, ripping the breathing apparatus from his face and creating dozens of cuts on his forarms from the broken glass of the tank. He surged to his feet and his focus sharpened again, taking everything that he needed to notice. There were a cluster of scientists near a bank of machines. He didn't recognize any of them, but he knew that none of them was the betrayer. Still, they were willing assistants, and were just as much cause for his torment as the betrayer. The would see no mercy.

He launched himself into them, knocking two down, one of which who landed with his neck twisted at an odd angle, the other simply stunned for a moment. A quick pivot and snap kick, permanently removed another white coat and he grabbed the front of the coat of the remaining scientist and slammed him up against the wall. He ignored the man's feeble pleas, and slammed him into the wall again. The young man had wanted to take out his fury on the betrayer, but an accomplice would have to do. He heard a click behind him, a sound his brain immediately identified and tagged as the cocking mechanism on a light pistol. He tensed and jerked himself backward, hearing the trigger click and the impending explosion. He knew his shoulder had been hit and pierced, but the adrenaline coursing through his system made that realization a simple point of data in an evironment where data was constantly changing.

The young man spun, taking the wrist of the scientist he'd stunned in his initial attack and grabbed the pistol. He forced the man's wrist around like he was a child, and slammed the end of the pistol under the man's chin, tightening his own finger on the trigger over the scientist's own. Another explosion of noise and the man jerked the pistol out of the dead man's fingers and unloaded another three rounds, hitting the scientist he'd been smashing into the wall, once in the stomach and twice in the chest, the last shot piercing the man's heart, killing him instantly, not that the first two shots hadn't been lethal themselves. He heard the sound of a door sliding open and he whirled. In the doorway stood a muscular man in a black buisness suit and tie. He held a sheaf of documents in his hand and stepped into the room. "Alright folks, the gig is--" He froze as he rose his gaze and took in the situation.

In a single movement he dropped the documents and went for the inside of his jacket. The young man's reflexes were much better than the suited man's and by the time the suit's hand had grasped the weapon in the jacket, the young man had already unloaded the rest of the handgun's clip into him. An eerie quiet settled over the lab, and the young man's shoulder throbbed, reminding him not so subtley that he'd been shot. He quietly took stock as he stumbled over to the man that had entered the room. On his way he ripped a sleeve off one of the dead scientists and wrapped it around his shoulder, making a temporary bandage. He knelt next to the man and grabbed the documents, and after a moment's deliberation searched the suited man for any I.D. He looked at the I.D. and exhaled sharply. It identified the last man he'd shot as a Turk, one of Shinra's elite operatives. A quick browsing of the documents he carried produced nothing of interest until he reached the last page.

He quickly grabbed it and studied it. On it lay a military profile for a man named Aidan Strife. Accompanying the material was a picture of him, standing in a military uniform. He dropped the Turk's I.D. and stood up. Within moments he spotted a locker in the back corner of the room and he broke it open, revealing the indigo uniform and weapon that he knew was his. He dressed quickly, shouldered the massive blade, and stuffed his own profile inside the uniform after taking one last look at it. "Aidan Strife..." he murmered out loud, testing the name out. "I guess that's who I am..." The profile was sparse, but he remembered a few things that had been laid out on it, primarily Military Status: Officially Resigned, and Familial Status: One sister, Location: Edge. A blaring alarm began to wail and Aidan began to rush his way out of the facility. If Shinra and the Turks are behind what's happened to me, than this sister I'm supposed to have might be in danger, he thought. It may be a trap. I don't remember any sister. I don't remember anything...