Stitch

The past has been torn apart. The unnecessary has been extracted. The truth has been forged. The stitches are your only memory. "Charging to Magnus with our collector ripped off was a bad idea. But we had no choice—leaping into the unknown still beats staying behind to roam the swept phase forever, like some headless horseman. So we jumped. For better or worse, I can't say. But we survived. Our coordinates are untraceable. We've lost all connection. Magnus' location is unrecorded. ...And now there's a crowd outside—running around in gas masks, muttering that gibberish of theirs, and doing all they can to pry us out of here. Humans, in the Mirium zone?! No way that means anything good. We've sealed all the hatches tight. ...I'm liking it less and less here. I don't even know why. Maybe it's the chanting from the folks outside. Or that massive contraption with hooks on chains that our tank is attached to. Or maybe it's the black goo dripping from every direction..."