A chilled draft brought consciousness to the form strapped with irons to the cold, metallic wall. Thin, feminine brows knit together as a shiver caused her eyes to flutter. Hazy brown eyes tried their best to take in the scene around them. They became much more lucid once the scene was unrecognizable. Now panicked, the prisoner struggled against her restraints, though they held her firm. 'What the fuck?' She thought to herself. She tried to scream, but found her voice hoarse; her throat was dry as a bone. The most she could utter was a faint grunting. This, however, did succeed in drawing the attention of a shapeless shadow on the other side of the room.

"Oh, you're finally awake, then?" The voice was even and masculine, lined with an upward tilt that could only mean he was smiling. "Well, that's a relief. I wasn't expecting you to react so poorly to the anesthesia. How are you feeling, Grace?" As he stalked forward, she shadows peeled away to show he was an attractive man in his mid-twenties. He was defined by his pitch black hair, fair skin, and amber colored eyes. The color of his wardrobe was a simple composition of black, gold and white, his shoes polished to a shine, the laces perfectly straight. Steadily, he approached further still. Strong hands wrapped around the bars of her cell. He watched Grace as she struggled against her bonds again, his head lilting to the side as he tried to listen to her speech. "Sorry, kid, but you're going to have to speak up a bit."

"Fuck you!" She managed, her brown bangs spilling over her scowl.

The man took a step back in faux-concern. "Tsk. Grace, that's no way for a lady to behave! Especially after all I've done for you. Or, perhaps, you don't remember...?"

The expression on his face was of concern, but the inflection to the tone of his voice made the girl's skin crawl. Grace was unnerved. She bit the inside of her cheek as she attempted again to gather her thoughts. What was he talking about, and what was it she wasn't remembering? Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to remember. She lived with her mother and father and her annoying little brother. Her house was on a farm where they raised Miltank and Tauros for MooMoo milk; in Olivine. But, unless this was the basement of the local lighthouse, her home didn't have any cellars this dank, and certainly none this expansive. That confirmed, where the hell was she?

Grace's eyes opened, her brows knitting together as her sluggish thoughts tried to catch up with reality. Without missing a beat, the man before her spoke up. "Oh dear. You really don't remember." Now his reaction really was one of concern. His fair complexion contorted slightly and pearly white teeth found a soft spot in his lower lip. "Apparently your medical records aren't detailed enough. I apologize for my miscalculation." A flash movement of his hand opened the door to her cell. Gently, trying not to cause her any more duress than necessary, he stepped in to kneel beside her. "You are genetically perfect, Grace. I found you through your DNA profile and, aside for being a 'chemical lightweight,' you're perfect." Her brows knit together, lacking comprehension. What he said next only proved to confuse her more. "You're going to help save the world."

Well, that wasn't helpful. It didn't say 'how' she was going to do that, or even how she had ended up here in this prison- And what the hell did he mean by 'genetically perfect?!' All her life she'd been teased for her looks. She was just average. Average height, average treebark brown eyes, average weight - if softer and not as muscled; only thing that was 'above average' was her breast size, and even those were only c-cups. Even her hair was a muted brown, with bangs that covered her eyes and length that only just fell past her shoulders. She shot another glare his way, ready to stir her voice and come back with a sharp retort, though it was cut off by the sight before her. A syringe was in the man's hand filled full of a shimmering, metallic liquid. His other hand was grasped tightly just around her bicep. His hold was so sure, she hadn't even noticed. She gasped and tried to jerk away, to get her feet underneath her to stand, but fell right back down again. Her body wasn't cooperating. Her arms were heavy and her legs felt like noodles, numb beneath the knees. Her heart raced as the man patiently waited for her to still herself and upon seeing the opportunity, he plunged the giant needle into her arm, straight to the bone. A strangled scream pierced through her lips and she jerked away again, though couldn't get far with the man's grip vice-like grip.

"There, now, that wasn't so bad." Was he deaf? Had he not heard her torturous wail? She looked at him with wild, teary eyes. He smiled and pressed some gauze against the injection site as he removed the needle. "That will smart for another day or so, but you'd said that you didn't lead a particularly exciting lifestyle, so it shouldn't be an issue. I can't thank you enough Grace for what you're doing. Don't worry; your body will know what to do when the time comes. "

As the man rose to depart lights began to dance at the edges of Grace's vision. She moaned again, trying to call him back, but as her head grew heavy. Darkness was crawling in on her again and she couldn't even conjure the energy to stave it off. The only response she was given was of the cell door groaning to close and the fading sound of the mystery man's shoes as he faded into the darkness.