His wrist were cold. He hated the cold. And when he shivered, it sent a jolt through his senses, causing his vision to waver as the blonde would open his eyes, slowly, after what seemed like eons of sleep. He'd search his memories of what happened prior, and all he remembers is a static presence trailing his steps and the semblance of falling face first after a harsh impact to his head still lingering atop his blonde mop, where his response was two seconds too late to even manage a defensive action. He'd recall the dazzle of lights that Rose Garden boasted to no end, the natural urge of wanting to curb a thirst to wonder, and a gut-wrenching feeling of being watched as he slid himself down a narrow road at half-past midnight.
It obviously didn't end well for him, judging by the alerting development that came in the form of heavily bound hands and his weapon buzzing crazily at his waist -a forefront distinction of trouble from his spirits, no doubt.
His empty blue stare would pan over the atmosphere around him, and for whatever reason, this entirely new setting was devoid of any form of light apart from the dim lacrima that loomed above, casting small shadows that would shuffle silently across the heavy metal walls. His entire being would react to the change with a sluggish response, grunting with a grogginess as his thoughts swirled around inconsistently in his head when a sharp and staggering pain slithered up the base of his neck. Questions arose in the rational part of his thinking, but he had no will to attest to vividly attest to them apart from a shaky breath, huffing once to remind himself that he was still alive, and twice to stabilize his mental state that was evidently robbed of its consciousness a few hours before.
Shifting ever so slightly, his ears would register the presence of chains running up along the walls as a noise akin to rattling metal invaded the empty space. It was a very limited movement as is, but it seemed to cause a disturbance from the outer regions of his current confinement. A similarly ill-lit light would waft from the crack in the large metal door, pooling at the entrance like oozing blood, and from it, a hooded individual with goggles for eyes made his presence known to the blonde, deftly clicking at a pen as they scribbled something unto a clipboard.
"...Subject #492, 'Blade', seems to be stable." a voice muttered, deeply, as if the person was talking through a form of communication device. "Will now instigate second dosage."
A pair of burly hands seemed to concede with their intentions and hauled the man's figure from his hoisted position, the chain noises causing his entire to brain react in a negative way as he endured a slow-building migraine. His face was pressed down against the floor, a pair of fingers gathering his hair elsewhere before piercing the skin at his lower neck with a long, prodding needle.
"Kh..." he groaned, not entirely from the pain of a more intense vertigo, but more so from his helplessness and his inability to stop these weird occurrences as they were. His entire form went slack as a sizzling liquid seeped into the pulse in his veins, causing his heart to slow as if sending him into a passive trance.
"Second dosage clear." he heard them say, regarding the voice with a hazy undertone to it, "Subject #492 is ready to be transported to Sector B."
Abruptly, a large, masculine figure would deftly lurch downward and toss his still state over a shoulder, mimicking the act of carrying a sack of potatoes or the similar sort on a busy market day. Was that all he was? Produce?
The next few instances, to the swordsman, were the blurry faces of men in hoods and green-tint goggles. His environment would shift, from bleak to red, to black to a buzzing shade of neon green, where an influx of machines and individuals with several guns in their hands stood on standby. There was a clear indication that the machine at the center was a spot reserved for him, but he had no means of responding to them, much less fight their intentions as his figure was aptly hefted unto a chair of sorts, his limbs tucked into a pair of openings that was connected to the machine.
Edging his head one way, he idly made out the presence of a curious figure in a similarly daunting situation. But because of the way his vision seemed to fluctuate, he'd only distinguish the black and blue coloration apart from the feminine outline.
'...Is she...part of...too..?' he thought to himself, weakly.