(Untitled)

[grey_matter]

A man walks into Clinics, the PINpoint someone gave him still clutched in one hand. He's certainly a sight that may give one pause between the cybernetic left arm and the fact that the drab, grey jumpsuit he's wearing is covered in blood.

"Hello...?"

(Grey has just gotten back from Battle Royale 2. Fun stuff, huh? Problem is, he also had all of his

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[flippedpills]

The doctor who first finds Grey might seem oddly familiar to those with any association with popular culture. And it IS him, but damned if he's going to bring that to anybody's attention unless necessary.

Especially when he sees a sight like this.

"Good LORD," he mutters in a voice gruffer than commonly popularized, before hurrying Grey over to one of the exam rooms and onto one of the tables." "All right, let's get you checked out, boy," he says, checking Grey over for injuries.

[grey_matter]

Grey is still disoriented enough to be easily herded to an exam room. He waves Mario away, however, when the man starts trying to check him over. "I'm uninjured, I've already checked." He frowns, looking down at the drying blood on him.

[flippedpills]

Mario doesn't seem entirely convinced of this, but a cursory glance does seem to indicate a distinct lack of obvious injuries on Grey himself; with that much blood, it would be impossible not to have some sort of outward sign. He sighs. "All right, then. Though I must say you look like you've been to the wars, boy." He shakes his head. "What seems to be the trouble otherwise?" he asks, watching for any other warning signs -- concussion, perhaps, or from the state of his outfit, PTSD.

[grey_matter]

"Amnesia." He says dully. "I can't remember anything." Not true... there's one. One memory. But he isn't going to mention that. No way. Last thing he needs is to be locked away as someone potentially dangerous. ...Is he dangerous? Grey seems to be in his own little world of thought now.