Black.

Black was all George could see.

He tried using any of his other senses to try to figure out where the hell he was, but he couldn't.

He couldn't see, hear, smell, taste or touch anything.

His eyes were open. He knew they were. And yet all he could see was darkness. He tried moving his arms and legs, but every inch of his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He tried to yell, but no sound would come out. He tried to cry, but his eyes remained dry. All he could do was stay where he was and hope that someone would come help him.

He couldn't even tell if he was sitting, standing or laying down. He couldn't feel the floor beneath him at all. He felt like he was floating. Not even the slightest breeze touched his skin. He couldn't feel clothes against his body or shoes on his feet. He couldn't feel his hair laying against his forehead. He couldn't feel his breath ghost against his upper lip when he breathed out of his nose. For the first time in George's life he was experiencing pure nothingness.

Then, there was movement. He felt his body being jerked around gently before the sound of tires against gravel reached his ears. He still couldn't move at all, but he soon realized that he was in some sort of vehicle. He tried to focus on the sound to try to hear it more clearly, but it was so dulled and muffled that he quickly gave up.

Minutes passed, and then hours, and George still hadn't moved. He could feel himself getting more and more tired as time dragged on. He wanted to stay awake just in case something happened, but it was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He reluctantly allowed his eyes to shut and within seconds he was unconscious again.

When George awoke for the second time he could barely open his eyes. Bright white lights surrounded him on all sides, effectively blinding his vision. He put a hand over his face to try to block out the light, and he quickly recognized his ability to do so. He shook his arms and legs, rolled his ankles and shoulders, arched his back and cracked his knuckles. His body had been very stiff and he could already feel the soreness in his muscles from not moving. He didn't know how long he had been trapped in that paralyzed state, but he assumed it was a while considering the way his body reacted to being stretched.

Slowly, George opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light a little bit at a time. He felt underneath him and noticed that he was laying down on a bed situated in the middle of the room. Once he could open his eyes properly, he started to look around. The walls of the room were a dark silver color and looked like they were made out of sheet metal. They looked cold to the touch. There was a seam in one of the walls and a big metal handle near it, and George assumed that it was a door. The floor was made out of concrete and the ceiling was lined with lights. The room was seemingly empty aside from the small bed and a heart-rate monitor standing next to it. He looked down and saw that he was in a hospital gown, and underneath it there were small patches stuck to his chest that were attached to the monitor.

Was he in a hospital? If so, it was a really odd-looking one. But it would make sense, considering the state he was previously in. Maybe what he went through was a medical complication and he was brought to this weird place to be treated.

Just as he was about to stand up, the door swung open and a man walked in. His build was similar to George's, except he was about two inches shorter. His black hair was almost completely covered by a navy blue beanie, and he wore a long white lab coat over a pair of gray pants and a blue shirt.

"Ah, you're finally awake." He says, walking over to the monitor. "Your vitals seem to be fine. We almost lost you before, you know. You didn't respond nicely to the medicine we gave you."

Dazed, George tried to put the pieces together in his head. "W-what medicine? Where am I? Who are you?"

"Woah woah woah, slow down man. Too many questions. You'll find out everything you want to know soon enough. For now, we need to transport you to the Meeting Hall. I'll go grab you some clothes to change into." And with that, the man turned on his heel and left.

What was the Meeting Hall? George tried to remember how he had gotten here, or what he was doing that could have landed him in a place like this. He searched through his memories, but everything came up blank. He couldn't remember anything.

He couldn't remember his parents. He couldn't remember if he had any siblings. He had no idea where he lived or where he went to school. He couldn't even remember what his own face looked like. The terrifying reality crashed down onto George all at once: he had no idea who he was or where he came from. The only things he could remember about himself were that his name was George and he was 19 years old. And that he was colorblind.

His heart rate started to pick up as he began to panic. The faint beeping sound coming from the monitor increased in speed, and George could feel sweat beading into his forehead. He was so utterly lost and confused. He shut his eyes tightly and put his head in his hands, silently wishing for the man from earlier to come back already.

As if on cue, the man walked through the door with a small pile of folded clothes. When he saw the state George was in, he rushed over and set the clothes down on the end of the bed.

"George?" He asked, panic hidden in his voice. "George, calm down. You're alright. You're safe."

George snapped his head up and looked the man in the eyes. "I am not alright! I have no idea where I am! I can't remember anything about myself, and I'm sitting in a hospital bed!", George cried out as tears start to spring into his eyes.

"George, all of that is normal. Everyone else is going through the exact same thing you are. Now, get changed so that I can bring you to the Meeting Hall. I'll be right outside the door. Come out when you're done." The man exited the room for a second time, leaving George in complete shock.

What did he mean by "everyone else"? Were there other people here? And why did he say that not remembering anything was normal? Did he go through this before?

Pushing the hundreds of questions he had to the back of his mind, he slid out of the bed and picked up the clothes. There was a pair of thin black sweatpants, a baby blue long sleeve shirt, and a pair of gray socks with grips on the bottom of them. Hesitantly he changed into them, leaving the gown he was wearing on the bed.

The clothes were too big for him. The sweatpants were a size larger than what he'd normally wear and they hung just a bit too loosely around his waist. The shirt went down the middle of his thighs and the sleeves ran way past his fingertips. He pushed them up onto his forearms and ran a hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the door and met the man on the other side.

"Looking good." He said sarcastically. George rolled his eyes in response. "Let's go. We're gonna be late if we don't leave now." He set off down the hallway and George followed behind, matching his quick pace.

"So are you going to tell me your name or not?" George asked, trying to start conversation.

"Sure. It's Alex, but my nickname is Quackity. Most people call me that." He responds, keeping his eyes forward.

"Why?" George asks, chuckling at the weird name.

"When I was younger I was obsessed with ducks, and it got to the point where I actually thought I was one for a while. One time I went three days without talking at all; instead I just made duck noises whenever someone talked to me. From that day on I was known as Quackity." He explained quickly.

George burst out laughing at the story. "That's ridiculous."

"Don't judge. Anyway, the Meeting Hall is just through here. You ready?" He asked, stopping in his tracks in front of a double door and turning to look at George.

"Uh, I guess?" George said, confused as to why the other boy even asked him that.

Quackity nodded and pushed open the doors to reveal a huge auditorium-like room filled with other girls and boys who appeared to be around his age. His eyes widened at the sight- he was sure he'd never been around this many people before. If he had, he probably wouldn't have remembered anyway.

Quackity directed George to one of the many lunch tables scattered throughout the room. "He should only be a few minutes now. Wait here." He said before taking off towards a makeshift stage at the front of the room.

"Wait! Who is 'he'?" George called out after him, but his question was drowned out by all of the other conversations happening around him. He let out a sigh and leaned forward onto the table, resting his head in his hands.

He debated for a while whether or not he should go talk to someone, but decided he was too lazy to get up. He quickly scanned the room for any other loners, but everyone seemed to be talking to someone. He leaned his head back into his hand and patiently waited for whoever "he" was to make an appearance. After a few minutes, he heard a man's voice coming through a speaker towards the front of the room.

"Hello everyone. Welcome to Facility 404."

AN: hi everyone! this is my first time writing something in this genre so bear with me if it isn't that great lol. i don't have a set schedule for when i upload, i kinda just write whenever i'm motivated (which isn't very often).
thanks so much for reading! it would be greatly appreciated if you could vote and comment. feedback is always welcome! remember to hydrate and take care of yourself. i love you <3
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