Waking up in a dark room is one thing. Not remembering who, or what, or anything for that matter, is another. being greeted by a loud-as-fuck screech is -- you get the idea.

The door in front of me began sliding open with a deep mechanical whir, casting much-needed light into the dreary room. A quick scan revealed gun racks, ammo boxes, supplies packed neatly into shelves -- an armory of some sort. Oh, and thirty-or-so guys and gals strewn about on the ground, all grunting and groaning at the unwelcome light.

I got up on my feet and grabbed a handgun from one of the racks beside me. A flip of the safety and a quick check -- bingo, it's loaded. I raised my gun towards the door.

It took some time to fully open, and the others began clambering onto their feet, still a pile of limp, moaning meatbags. Fit meatbags, mind you. They'd be useful.

The door stopped with a small puff of smoke. Behind it, a senior in fatigues and a cap. "Major Naird, you're up early." Said the senior with his arms folded behind him, chest puffed out and a cheeky grin plastered onto his face.

Fucking seniors.

I lowered my gun out of instinct, now pointed at his crotch. "Surprised you aren't puffing your ass out, too," I said, looking to two guards behind him, rifles slung across their body armor.

Now, you might be wondering why I was hurling insults at some rando military officer with my gun out, pointed at his crotch. Suffice to say, losing my memories took away a lot of my restraint, and I had no idea who I was talking to. Hell, I didn't even know my name was Naird. The name tapes fixed that for me.

The senior seemed offended and let out a chuckle. "Surprised your attitude made it through the wipe." He said as the rest got on their feet, moaning a little less. "'Nuff said, you've got a job to do."

Ass-puffer cleared his throat and spoke in a booming rumble of a voice.

"Men and women of the Army. Your memories have been wiped, but as you'll see, your loyalties have not changed. You are the warriors of the fatherland's Expeditionary Corps, the best and the brightest. You are hereby ordered to establish and maintain a base of operations around your current location, and gather information on the world around you."

The wall behind us dropped into the ground, revealing deep blue skies, endless fields of knee-high grass, and something big and scaly flying in the distance. Big and scaly.

"I am Colonel Jacques Laurelle, Commander of the Corps' Second Battalion, which you lot fall under. Take some time to regain your bearings, and take a peek at the dossier in each of your lockers."

What was once a pile of moaning meatbags was now a cohort of bodybuilders. All taller than me by a few inches, give or take. All of them looked to the walls, eyeing the lockers as Colonel Ass-puffer mentioned them.

"The man with the gun is your CO. I'll leave him to sort you all out -- " he turned to me, dropping his voice to a more conversational tone. "-- I'll check in by 1300. Prepare a report for then." The Colonel turned, and the door closed with the same screech it made when I woke.

I turned to the crowd, gun in hand, and met their gaze as they all turned to me for answers.

I didn't have any, but I did have a use for these behemoths.

I stood up straight, folded my arms in front of me, and smiled.