The large clock ticked away, tick tick tick, its endless droning filled the empty room with an eerie feeling. Its ticking had finally finished its long timer.
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Tick, tick, tick, click!
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For minutes, nothing happened. A mechanical whir sounded through the silent room, echoing off the walls. Another mechanical whir sounded as the tank's water drained through the floors, swirling in whirlpools around the drains.
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The tank's glass unhurriedly lifted, the icy air hissing as it rushed out in a thick, cold cloud. The body lay on the table, dripping with little patches of frost melting. The body sat up with sudden wakefulness, gasping for air, chunks of thick ice falling off its chest and shattering on the ground. It hoisted itself off the table, leaning on it for support as its legs were still not fully awake.
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The body limped to a desk with notes all over it, holding its head as shards of memories flashed in its mind. The memories came in pieces: a swingset here or maybe a beer bottle there. The memories didn't make any sense.
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It shuffled through the notes, an ID falling and sliding under the desk unnoticed. Its hand picked up a torn letter, "MORTUUS."
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It stared down at the table, picking up a man's photo. Another memory flashed with blurry fragments. "This... Is me. I must be Mortuus." He uttered, his voice hoarse and grave from the ice caught in his vocal cords.
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Mortuus turned to see the body of a young man lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He stared, confused, for a minute before checking the pockets of the dead man's lab coat. He read an ID in the coat pocket, Dr. Mordecai Mallard.
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As he crouched there, staring at the ID and twirling it in his hands with utter fascination, he noticed a revolver's barrel caught in the light of the flicking alarms. He just now noticed the blaring alarms as more senses slowly returned to him. He dropped the ID on the dead doctor's chest and walked over to the blood-covered firearm.
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Picking it up and staring at it, perplexed, Mortuus admired the complexity of the revolver. Its barrel was smooth and coated in a layer of copper, which was still noticeable despite the dried blood and dust that covered the gun in odd patches.
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It was such a beautiful piece of machinery. Simple in structure but intricately designed, it had a delicate flower on its ivory handle, which lay below a floral-patterned barrel and silver cylinder. He popped the cylinder and saw five silver bullets lying in the chambers. The gun reeked of death and gunpowder, a horrid combination for his recently awakened sense of smell.
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Mortuus was stirred from his dazed state by an automated clicking of gears in a far corner of the room. A small robot emerged from a now open door, its details obstructed by the lighting behind it.
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Beeping, the small bot rolled its way toward Mortuus. "You have been specially chosen to be reawakened. All information about your life prior has been erased to eliminate the risk of your injury. PROJECT MORTUUS successful: Activating... awakening sequence-" The robot guided Mortuus to a padded room and slammed the door shut.
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