The chambers slowly defrosted.

Henry opened his eyes slowly, hand in front of his eyes. It was hard to see with the blinding light.

Slowly, his foot automatically moved out, but upon impact his legs shook and he fell.

His hands hit the Antarctic-cold ground, a sudden jolt throughout my whole body.

“Sir!” someone called, though he could barely hear out his ears, and everything sounded muffled.

My breaths were ragged and my heart felt like it hadn’t worked in forever.

He could feel hands go all over him, their warmth rubbing onto him.

“Come on, come on!” someone else shouted, and more footsteps.

Slowly, Henry regained his vision. He looked to his right, a soldier in black gear and a gas mask, looking straight at him. To the left was the same.

He could feel himself being dragged by the two, cold, wet ground wiping on his knees.

He looked to the ground, trying to keep my head from hurting too much.

“Hello, soldier,” someone stepped in front of him, “it’s been quite the while, I understand. Our ancestors—and by that I mean your generation—left us quite the project with you.”

Slowly, Henry’s head raised, looking up. The man was big, muscular, dressed in all black, matched with a black mask.

“W—who are you?” he asked, sore all over. He didn’t remember anything, and his body was still trying to regain it’s own body heat.

“I…I am the Dreamer. However, I can assure you that _you_ will be the Nightmare.”