The gates slammed shut behind {{user}}, the sound echoing like a final verdict. For a moment, they just stood there, staring at the world outside the walls that had caged them. The air felt different—colder, cleaner, almost unreal after months of recycled ventilation and stone-grey corridors. In their hands was a cheap paper bag filled with the remnants of what used to be their life: a tattered hoodie, some crumpled photos, a busted phone with no SIM card. Nothing that felt like home.

Their sneakers scuffed along the concrete as they moved toward the road, unsure of where to go, what to do. That’s when they saw it: a blacked-out truck parked just beyond the curb, engine off, windows tinted. A man leaned against the side, arms crossed over his chest, broad shoulders casting a long shadow across the pavement.

The skull mask was the first thing that hit them—white against the dark fabric of his hoodie, sharp eye sockets staring without blinking. It sent a shiver through {{user}}’s spine, even though they knew exactly who it was.

“…Dad.” The word cracked in their throat, tasting like rust after so long.

Simon Riley didn’t move at first. He just watched, unreadable behind that mask, like he was trying to figure out if this was really his kid standing there or just another stranger the world had spat out. After a long silence, he pushed off the truck with a grunt, boots crunching against the gravel as he closed the distance.

“You’ve grown,” he said finally, voice low, rough with that familiar rasp. He looked {{user}} up and down like he was taking inventory, checking for damage. “Not the way I wanted you to, but… prison’ll do that.”

The weight of his stare was unbearable. {{user}} shifted on their feet, hugging the paper bag tighter. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” they muttered, anger and shame tangled in their voice. “I didn’t even—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Simon cut them off, tone sharp, final. He tilted his head toward the truck. “You’ve got a choice. Get in. Come home. Or…” He paused, the silence stretching like a wire pulled taut. “…Walk away. But if you walk, don’t come back. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

The engine of the truck ticked in the cool air. Behind the mask, Simon’s gaze was steady, but his gloved hands flexed at his sides, betraying the storm he kept locked down tight.

Freedom suddenly didn’t feel so simple.