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Ringing. Bright lights. Neon hums. Tinnitus blaring. A cacophony of sensory information drowned Lore until the encroaching blackness engulfed them. Once again, they didn’t know where they were but not unlike the pub, it was warm, warmer perhaps, and they were once again on solid land. The stillness was a welcome pleasure that they hadn’t realised they were yearning for. While the chains had done their best, the movement of an unknown but assumedly large population on an island floating over a void would have always generated some movement. Their vision still hadn’t returned but their other senses were functional. There was barely a sound around them. For the most part, their panting was the only thing they could hear. The air was cool and fresh but the floor carpeted allowing Lore to deduce they were still inside but wherever they were was air conditioned. They tried to look around but the action, they quickly realised, was nonsensical given their predicament; darkness surrounded them. In the void, they felt completely alone, yet not. Disregarding their failed vision, they reached out with their hand. At first they hit something warm and slightly viscous then a wall and finally, their way out. As soon as their damp hand came into contact with whatever it was, light returned to their universe. Then they saw what Crait had. They took a moment to get their bearings and to readjust to the harsh lighting they were now subject to. Together, Lore stood. Their hand was still damp but the rest of their body remained dry. For whatever reason, they were beginning to sweat. That reason became clear as they inspected the wet patch on the floor and the matching patch at the side of their mouth. Three pints on an empty stomach plus teleportation seemed like a recipe for vomiting. Widening their view from just their sick patch and themselves, they found that they were definitely no longer in the pub. They were not even on the same planetoid as the pub. A clean, grey room had replaced the nothingness. It was a square room large enough to house two metre sticks placed end to end on the floor with room for a centimetre of trim on both sides. To their left, a wall made mostly of glass with a door at its middle.

“Lore?” Crait wiped their hand on their trousers before attending to their past partner, “hey, hey, you good?” They waved their face in Lore’s, frantically examining every millimetre. The reassuring smile they had tried to maintain soon dissolved as they got their closer look.
Lore had always been pale. Their skin shared similar properties to the dust that layers the moon making them reflective beyond belief. Somehow, they had managed to improve on perfection. What had once been the ultimate natural reflector had been upgraded as their pale skin lost even more of its colour. The greys of their eyes, once surrounded by a sea of white, now floated in bloodied waters and to further add to the chaos, the feverous warmth had now been replaced with a balmy chill. Their blue-grey compression armour had appeared to have changed its mind, slowly developing a crimson hue. Crait lifted Lore’s shirt then immediately swept them off of their feet.
“…” Lore opened their mouth allowing nothing but hot air to escape.
“Let’s get you checked out, come on.” Crait awkwardly probed at the door handle as they tried to open it with their hands full of Lore. Success came eventually and then, they could enter the halls.

The small grey room they had somehow appeared in was one of the many empty rooms within the labyrinthian structure of wherever and whenever they were. After exiting their small grey room, they noticed that the corridor they had entered shared the exact same colour scheme. Crait looked in both directions they had available to them then checked their Breacher. They nodded before dashing in the direction they believed to be correct. Everywhere they went on their mad rampage to find medical attention looked exactly the same. Four paths, four rooms per side of a block and all grey. Another being would have been a great help, even a dog could have been of use. The silence both inherent of the corridor and between them mingled and served to remind them that they were completely alone. While the building had enough space for its employees, none of them were present. Lore remembered the time on their Breacher before they left but, after an amount of time neither wanted to ever share, they reached something different. At the end of one of the longer corridors, two doors not made from glass. They were the only two like it on that floor for obvious reasons. The lift doors slid aside, allowing them entry. Crait took a moment to remember which floor they needed. Medical wasn’t their favourite place to go but it was occasionally necessary for conditions that couldn’t be resolved with hope and ignorance. Crait’s finger hovered between the buttons for the two floors they thought the infirmary could have been on. Failing to make their mind up, they pressed both. Their indecisiveness was acknowledged by the long dead voice of the lift as she announced that the car was about to begin its descent. Before the muzak could commence, the whirring of the spools that controlled the lift broke the silence. In Lore’s silent opinion, they were too loud but thankfully, the expected lift muzak started. They had no idea where they were but even if they did, they still would have a hard time working out the when too. The first of the two floors Crait selected was not the one they wanted; the doors slid open and revealed an empty expanse with a handful of metal crates and a scattering of high visibility jackets acting as the floors only furniture and carpeting. The doors closed once more and they began trundling downwards. The second time they opened, Crait began panicking again. The lift sported sixty four accessible floors and they had only checked three. Crait took another look at the increasingly frail figure in their arms. They closed their eyes and frantically prodded at the controller. The supposedly calming muzak was not helping and neither was the lack of urgency shown by the lift. It took them another minute and a half to reach the guessed floor and lucky for Lore, they were correct. The doors opened and the pair alighted. As if a bubble had burst around them, sound crashed over them. Monitors blared with their trademark beeps emphasising the presence of life all around them; trolleys with ungreased wheels screamed through the corridors, criss-crossing from room to room; nurses darted, doctors dashed, their shoe soles wailing at the abuse their owners forced them through. The chaos before them was amplified by the chosen décor of the medical bay, with its bright white walls and brighter white, strip lighting blinding them for a second. Crait took Lore back into their arms and charged forwards. The weight in their arms and the fatigue they had already developed caused them to stumble for a moment but adrenaline reinforced their resolve. They danced with their partner towards the closest help desk, arriving just before Lore lost consciousness for a second time. Crait gently seated Lore on the waiting room chair before bolting to the side of the receptionist. It didn’t last long and before Crait could even get the receptionists attention, Lore was awake again. Everything was too much. Too bright; too loud; too sweaty. They couldn’t do anything about it though. It was as if there were a voice in the back of their head compelling them not to talk, holding their tongue. Lore was alone in a world that was screaming at them. They folded themselves into a ball, wrapping their arms around their face and plunging their fingers in their ears. Removing one of their problems only made the other two more noticeable. They tightened their grip and dove deeper into their ears but to no avail, the screaming only seemed to grow as if mocking their attempts and their weakness. Lore let out a scream in defiance but all everyone else heard was the whimper of a wounded animal. Crait ran over, intake forms in hand and wrapped themselves around Lore. While it didn’t do much physically, just knowing that there was someone else there, someone else who cared made everything slightly easier. Crait carefully prised Lore apart and took a seat next to them.

“I hate being an Inquisitor some times.” Crait sighed deeply. “But policy is policy.” They clicked the pen. “Name… Lore.”
Lore looked at the sheet wordlessly. They wondered why such an advanced organisation would bother with physical files but then they read further. At the bottom of the page, there was a red rectangle that spanned the entire width of the form. ‘For office use only. Disintegrate upon discharge.’ “Why?” Lore could only manage the one word at the moment but completed the sentiment by tapping at the sheet.
“Can’t have your medical data falling into the wrong hands can we?” Crait chuckled. “As I said, Inquisitor policy.”
Lore looked to their fingers and noticed the dried crimson-brown. At first they thought it an ink transfer from the form but upon further inspection, the same brown had bonded them to their armour. They didn’t seem too phased by this occurrence and it somewhat worried them.
“Sex?” Crait chuckled.
“No thanks.” Lore replied without hesitation.
“I think it means assigned at birth.”
“Male.” Lore twitched as the word left their blood stained lips. The metallic tang did little to phase them but the one syllable word was more than enough to turn their stomach.
“Gender?” Crait waited a moment before they continued. “It’s legal now you know.” They whispered.
“Agender.” Saying the word had an oddly terrifying catharsis. As the words left their mouth, they fluttered like a mistake they weren’t sure they were making. It was like a weight was lifted but its absence made them feel vulnerable.
“Wow… ok. Losing your memories really loosened you up.” Crait scoffed. “I don’t know how much of this you can do from here unless you know if you’ve got any pre-existing conditions?”
“I’m pretty cut up.” Lore tried to smile. The small cut that had once been a scar opened up.
“Temporal reversion. I’ll add that to the amnesia then.”
“Temporal reversion?”
“It’s a side effect of time travel. Extreme jumps back in time can get messy. For instance you cut your lip open on our first mission together.” Crait checked their Breacher. “Judging by your appearance, you’re nineteen so, that mission was two years from now.”
“So how come I have the cut?”
“When a Breach goes wrong, the body can sometimes be effected. You jumped back in time and, as a result, your body aged in reverse proportional to the Breach but everything else usually stays the same. Scars, knowledge and memory are usually unaffected.”
“You don’t have a clue why do you.” Lore stared blankly at Crait. Eventually, they broke.
“We’re working on it. Sometimes, things just happen. Though that is our leading theory.”
A nurse joined them and indicated that there was an open room. Slowly, Crait hoisted Lore to their feet before they began the perilous journey towards their room. Although it was still as if the universe had it out for them, with Crait’s fingers interlocked with theirs, it was as if there was a bubble of protection surrounding them, and the world, which seemed scared of their unity, quietened.

Their room matched the décor prevalent on the floor: White walls and floors. However, the lighting was nowhere near as harsh as it had been throughout the medical bay. The dimmed lights and the silent monitor made for an environment where Lore could finally lower their back from the wall. Silence. The bed was too comfortable but at least the room was quiet. It wasn’t long before the silence of their one bed room was broken. The door opened with a hiss and before the newcomer had even entered, the room’s humidity had risen by a significant margin. When the doctor eventually crossed the threshold, Lore could see an individual that was seemingly more sweat than man.
“Private room, no files, has to be another bloody Inquisitor. Suppose it could be worse. I would not fancy an Oracle…  Day I’m having…” He stopped his complaining as he entered the room properly. “I’m Walsh, how can I …” He stopped himself short. “Now if I’m not mistaken, there’s an Inquisitor I wouldn’t mind treating.”
“I’m sorry?” Lore looked to him as he shed a third of his body weight in water.
“I used to work in the redaction guild. I’ve read every one of your reports, in fact, I’ve read the unredacted versions of every one of your reports.” Walsh rubbed his hands together. “I was especially interested in the post-trial stuff.”
“That’s why I requested you.”  Crait gave him a side eye. “I think we’d both appreciate your discretion in this matter.” Walsh smiled awkwardly before apologising.
“Why is it so cold in here?” Walsh was beginning to dry off and it didn’t agree with him. He moved towards the bed’s controls and saw the air conditioning had been locked at its maximum. The memetic foam in the bed had also been set for maximum firmness. “Interesting…” He added it to his mental fan-file.
“Just how they’ve always liked it.” Crait nodded to Walsh.
“I’m ordering a scan and I’ll need to do some digging in the records room. Shouldn’t take too long. You know what to do when the equipment arrives.” He scurried away leaving the two of them alone once more.
“What kind of scan?” Lore reached for the cup on their bedside table. Crait got there first and put it to their lips for them.
“We just want a quick look at your long term memory. See what we’re working with. Just like the train rides from Bruges through those backstabbing tourist traps.”
Lore reached for their control menu. Their finger hovered over the call nurse button. “I’m not having a stroke am I? What’s my face look like?” They prodded at both sides of their confused frown.
“You’re fine. Get some rest. The machine won’t be here for a while.”

The bed was considerably more comfortable now and with the day they had been having, rest seemed perfect. Crait found themselves a spare pillow and sandwiched it between themselves and the wall. Even in the future, in private hospitals, at the apparent top of the social hierarchy, it took forever for doctors to actually sort out problems. Lore wanted to wait until Crait had dropped off but, after an hour, they couldn’t take it any longer. Against their will, their eyes betrayed them and closed themselves. And with that, a domino effect was set in motion and eventually, in their cold and quiet medical room, they drifted off to sleep. Dreaming.