Mekoâ€™s cut to the forehead was beginning to heal already. It was healed over in moments. He was having trouble healing his shoulder wound. Apparently there had been a silver coating so it was going to take longer to naturally heal. He was dead to the world. He was out of energy. Though he might be dead to the world his mind was racing. It was replaying this day in slow motion. Replaying each event. Analyzing it and trying to make sense of what happened. Eventually it stopped that. Confusion filled his unconscious mind then darkness. Then his mind began trying to process it. This world was the same but it was much different. He was at least a century or more in the future. This was not the world as he knew it. There would be much confusion as he adapted to the new way the world was. He remembered the professorâ€™s final project. Why? Because the man had implanted the entire project, how to make it, the design, and everything down the numerical makeup...in his mind. Something he could never share with the world. An invention that could deatomize and destroy all explosive weaponary...before it had a chance to be used. Something that could destroy mass virusing programs in a single sweep. It was something Scino had been too afraid to put on paper even encrypted. So he had put it in his adopted son for safe keeping.<br/><br/>Meko himself was not entirely aware of it being there. Only in times like this...when he was completely oblivious to the world around him...did he see it. Did he feel it. Did he know it was there and work it around in his mind. He wasnâ€™t like he was light as a feather to a man with this guys military training and physical stature he probably was. He weighed between eighty-five and ninety-five pounds. It fluctuated at times based on what he had eaten or how much he had eaten. Usually it middle lined around ninety pounds. Most of which was toned muscle mass instead of fat. He didnâ€™t even notice he was a sack of potatoes. Still out to the world.<br/><br/>He faintly registered the stinging of the peroxide. The peroxide cleaning out the sliver amount of silver poison from the wound. That would allow it to heal much faster. Still he healed slower than lycanthropes who were born of the human variety. His fae blood made him heal slower but move faster and silenter. He started to stir. The welcoming blackness began to fade. He was hoping it had all been just a dream. Just a half dream half nightmare thing. When the darkness faded he laid there not wanting to open his eyes. He hoped it was just a nightmare slash dream thing but had a dreadful feeling it had been all too real. He slowly opened his eyes and sat up quickly. Looking around. His heart beat normally but his eyes took a moment to focus.<br/><br/>He continued looking around then as his ears twitched he looked towards the sound of breathing. Blinking and sighed. It had been real. Very, very real. That man...had saved his life. He really was time blasted or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. Taylor...he said his name was Taylor. He would keep that in his mind. He slowly and quietly got off the bed. Letting the man sleep as he began to move silently throughout the house. Checking it out. From time to time stopping and stared at some mechanism or gadget he had seen Scino working on but had never seen him finish all at one time. He would touch it and murmer that it was just like Scinoâ€™s but not as awesome. THen resume walking through the house. He ended up in the bathroom where he used it and flushed. Then went to the sink and tried to figure out how to turn it on. Whatever happened to knobs? That was a very useful technique.<br/><br/>Eventually he figured out it was motion activated and turned it on. He began splashing cold water on his face. He stared in the mirror then splashed more cold water on his face. He was using the bathroom in the bedroom having made his way back here. It was not a blur. Every event played out with scary photographical memory. He stared at the mirror. Taking off the jacket. Dropping the leather coat onto the ground. Standing there in just his shirt. A sorta tank top styled thing whose sleeve was torn on one side. He kept his choker on. Staring in the mirror. This was real. He really had worked alongside a real life military man. He really had stolen a copter. He really had shot and killed someone. The shot and killed someone made him sick to his stomach. He quickly was getting over it.<br/><br/>It was still a horrifying event for him. Back to splashing cold water on his face. This was a wake up and process sort of thing. He was silent. Staring in the mirror while water droplets trickled down his face and into the sink after drip dropping off his chin. Now what? Now what was going to happen?