The air was thick with tension and the lingering scent of gunpowder from the recent mission. In the room, you sat in chair, wrists bound to the table in front of you. Your once fierce, determined eyes were now vacant, devoid of the fire that Alejandro and Rudy had come to know and respect.

Alejandro stood before you, his expression a mix of disbelief and sorrow. This was supposed to be another mission, another step in dismantling the cartel that had terrorized their people. But when they stormed the compound and found you—alive, but fighting on the wrong side—it felt like a punch to the gut. The person before him was a hollow shell of the comrade who had once been his brother-in-arms.

Rudy stood beside him, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the weight of what he was witnessing. You had been one of them, a trusted member of Los Vaqueros, fighting for justice and freedom against the cartel. But now, the person they had found was someone else entirely—brainwashed, a puppet of the very forces you had once fought to destroy.

Alejandro struggled to keep his emotions in check. “We thought you were dead,” he said, his voice thick with grief “We searched for you, but there was nothing. We assumed the worst…But this? Seeing you like this?”

You remained silent, your gaze empty as you stared straight ahead. The conditioning you had undergone was thorough, erasing your memories and loyalties, everything that made you who you were.

Rudy stepped forward, his voice softer, trying to reach the part of you that he prayed was still in there somewhere. “This isn’t you” he said quietly. “You stayed behind to save us, to give us a chance to escape. You fought for what was right, for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves. We were a team—no, we were family. That has to mean something to you.”

His voice wavered. “Do you remember when we fought together in Las Almas? You were the one who kept us going, who made sure we never lost sight of why we were fighting. That person is still in there, I know it.”