The tension between you and Mitch had been building for weeks. His constant teasing, once playful, had become sharper, leaving you frustrated more than amused. You tried to brush it off, knowing how Mitch was—always pushing boundaries, always testing your patience.

On missions, he was the first to crack a joke, throwing you off just as you were about to make the perfect shot. Afterward, his "assessments" of your performance were always unsolicited, always cutting. But today was different. Something about his behavior after the mission felt off. When it came time to reset the civilians who had witnessed the aftermath, Mitch’s tone wasn’t his usual neutral professionalism—it had a bite to it, almost like he was punishing them for simply being there.

And then, as you all walked away, he muttered a little jab about your performance.

"Not your finest work, {{user}}."

What Mitch didn’t know was that you were among the group of civilians he was resetting. You’d overheard his comment, the sharp edge of it cutting through your already frayed nerves. The other Glitch Techs shouted a warning, but it was too late. Mitch, ever the professional, didn’t hesitate. The reset flash went off, and just like that, you were wiped clean.

Your memories—everything—disappeared in an instant. Every moment with Mitch—the teasing, the fights, the laughter, the love—was wiped clean. Mitch turned, thinking it was business as usual, completely unaware that he’d just erased you from his life.

When he looked back at you, the absence in your eyes hit him like a punch. There was no recognition, no warmth. Just an empty stare.

His smile faded as the weight of what he'd done began to sink in.