[ The why and the how, Ronan would focus on later. He was breathing, his clothes at seven bullet holes clean through them with dried blood clinging to the edges, but he didn't and he was in a cave.

So, the initial examination had given him some pretty startling information: someone had retrieved his body from the morgue, found a way to what? Resurrect him? Then they'd shoved him in a coffin with a cell phone and how-to manual, and stored his new bed in a cave somewhere.

He fiddled with the settings on the phone per the instructions, and accidentally turned on the video transmission as he continued to think out loud. His attention to detail was usually more thorough, but give a guy a break. He was dead the last time he checked. ]

...didn't even have the decency to give a man a change of clothes.

[ He shook his head and looked around for something in the pod he'd just vacated for a moment before reaching in and pulling out a weathered fedora and placing it on his head. ]

At least they remembered th- [ His eyes dart toward the communicator he'd set down, noticing the blinking. ] What do you know? I did get it working.

[ He runs a hand over his face before he picks up the device, giving a slight, if-lopsided, smile. ]

I can only assume there's others out there, right? Why give a man a cell phone if there's nobody to receive it? [ He rubbed at his eyes with a free hand, then begins patting first the clear side of his chest, then the side with the bullet holes before reaching into a pocket with a hole in it and retrieving a box of ruined cigarettes. ] Really? Come on. [ He shakes his head and looks back to the feed. ]

My name's Ronan O'Connor. I'm a detective with the Salem Police Department...in...Salem, Massachusetts. Tell me that rings a bell with somebody.

[ And, more directly, as though something suddenly occurs to him. ]

Can any of you even see me?