[ this isn't the bus — ward has no recollection of leaving the bus and he has no recollection of anything that might lead to a scenario in which he's suspended in a tube of blue fluid, breathing through a tube in his nose, which means that his memory must be failing him or the bus was ambushed. neither one of those are acceptable options — but the thought process is delayed when the fluid drains and he ends up on the floor, barely catching himself in a crouch in time before his face hits the ground.

this is not the bus. this isn't anywhere familiar; nothing he recognises. he's naked, but that is secondary to unarmed in this moment, eyes narrowing as he pushes himself to his feet.

there are others stumbling from pods just like the one he'd been in. there's a tattoo on his arm — none of this makes sense and if someone had time to tattoo him, that means he was out for too long.

where is his team? ]

[ in the end, he'd followed others into the showers and then towards a room full of lockers. he keeps his head down, but that doesn't mean he isn't watching his surroundings carefully.

at least the locker contains tac gear and weapons and some of the tension in his shoulders bleeds away as he checks over the two guns, the ammo, loading them — that he doesn't strip them entirely is the only concession to time and place.

only once he's assured himself that they're functional does he set them aside for long enough to actually get dressed. in tac gear, rather than the unfamiliar uniform. ]