BLOODHOUND.

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"You're sure you don't remember anything else?" the nurse asked.

I scratched my head, trying to form a cohesive thought. It was kind of difficult, really. For a nurse, they were quite heavily covered, donning an almost full-body hazmat suit. The bulky, faceless coverage made me uneasy. They all looked like aliens.

"I..." Under my breath, I began to repeat myself: "twenty-one, from Camden... um..."

A sudden, searing pain penetrated my temple. My hand jerked back as I held my head. Another headache. Another way for my subconscious to say no.

I could sense the nurse's surprise. With a soft grunt, I found myself shaking my head at them. "Sorry, that's... all I know."

With a nod, they tapped their notes into the tablet on the wall. In case it wasn't obvious by now, I had been hospitalised for an arson attack. Apparently, what I had gone through traumatised me to the point where my memory was slated clean. A 'dissociative fugue,' the doctors called it. They told me it wouldn't last long; that I'd be back to normal within the first twenty-four hours.

Two days had passed, and all I remembered were three things; how old I was, where I came from, and my name.

"That's fine, Jesse. No need to force it out." The nurse rose from their chair. "That'll be all for today. Just let us know if you need anything before noon, alright?"

I frowned. "Sure. Cheers."

They bid their farewells and left the room. Once again, I was alone, accompanied only by my restless anxiety. As I lay there in the deafening silence, I waited for something to answer me. For a memory to jump into mind; a big achievement, an embarrassing moment from school, anything...

The moment a vague blur popped into my mind, the migraines came back in full force.

"Agh, shit!" I clutched my head, the pain like a wasp's sting. I sat back, trying to wait it out as my vision blurred and pulsed.

Part of me wondered what the point was. I really couldn't remember anything - not even my mother's name - and it made me feel so pathetic.

'Twenty-four hours' my ass.

I sprung out of bed after a few minutes. With a quick stretch and moan I heaved my tired body towards the bathroom, yawning as the lack of sleep finally caught up with me.

Bang.

"OW!"

My forehead had bounced off of the wall. It felt like freezing metal colliding with my skull. I winced away, my eyes watering slightly as I rubbed my head. A moment passed as I regained composure, taking sharp breaths. I looked ahead.

My eyes were levelled with the frame.

I kept forgetting how... huge, I was. Too huge, even. I might as well have been a giant; too tall and with shoulders too broad to just stroll through human-friendly doors. Either I had to duck and move sideways like a crab, or squeeze my body through until it popped out like a pill capsule.

Well, whoever Jesse Hoffman was, he sure was dedicated to making himself a hell of a unit.

It made me wonder; was I some sort of jock? Or was I the law-enforcement type? Wait, no, it definitely would have been the latter. Being a fireman or policeman or whatever would explain my injuries a lot better, wouldn't it?

Soon, I was gazing into the mirror, at the grotesque body I inhabited. I might as well have been a figure in a burning wax museum; my crimson, rugged flesh overtook most of my face, clashing sharply with the untouched skin beside it. The red, twisting wounds almost blended into my burgundy hair, which was scorched around the tips. It felt like charcoal to the touch, the long strands prickling my shoulders like a broomstick.

As I washed my face, my mind wandered back to the nightmare. It was always the same; an open window, strange figures creeping up on me, a creature I couldn't find the words to describe, and a sea of fire. The story repeated in my dreams over and over again. Again, I knew it must have been a flashback of some kind, and the fantastical imagery was probably just a mash of images pasted together to complete the night terror. Still, I needed to know why I was there in the first place.

I pressed my hand up against the mirror, and watched as my reflection pressed back. I briefly locked onto my dark eyes - glassy and anxious - before noticing something out of the corner of my eye.

On my neck was a skin-coloured plaster that wasn't there before. There was a bump of some sort underneath the dressing.

I was on the brink of a cold sweat. It looked incredibly inflamed from underneath. The doctors must've treated it and I just didn't remember. Any sane person would guess it was a blister, but it made me remember a crucial point in my dream.

Those strange figures had injected something there. That's right. The Syndicate did this. They stuck that needle in me. Who they were and what they were doing were on the tip of my tongue, but just out of reach.

Come on, mate, I thought. There has to be something you remember about those things. Anything.

...

Thump.

My hairs stood on end as my eyes met my reflection's. I... knew that sound.

Thump.

A familiar instinct began to kick in. At first they were small, almost unnoticeable tremors. One thing I knew for certain was that this wasn't construction work, or a heavy vehicle, or some other mundane event. It was something more - something I recognised, but also didn't.

Thump.

The ground rumbled beneath me, lights flickering above my head. Stumbling back in shock, I swore under my breath. The footsteps were growing closer. A slow, meticulous rhythm. It was as if giants were walking the streets beyond the hospital walls, their strides like the beats of a war drum.

Thump.

Part of me thought there wasn't really anything out there; that it must've been my imagination. Yet, something screamed at me from the depths of my mind.

In that instant, the wailing of sirens filled the room. A lug-splitting screech that made me jump out of my skin. Shielding my ears, I ducked through the door and back into the main room. Metal shutters were lowering down and blocking the windows.

As if on cue, the door to my room slammed open. Nurses, donning full decontamination gear and - guns?

They stumbled as the quaking drew closer, one of them almost tumbling down as they approached me, yelling my name over the alarms. "We need to get you bunker, right now-"

A loud shatter from behind me sent them reeling back in horror. As glass shards scattered the floor, I turned around.

I felt the colour drain from my face.

Before me was a gargantuan, twisted hand, lifting up the window shutters.