Around and around, the jets in the air keep droning on. Skyhaven has always been bustling like this — or has it only just began? He can’t seem to tell. Recalling memories right now feels like a form of torture, the way that his head pounds viciously with each wisp he attempts to hold onto.

A facility. Experiments, a lot of them. 002, that’s him. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. That name is familiar, potentially his own or someone close to him.

And speaking of someone close to him; there’s a person by his side. Curled up there like they belong, all snuggly in place. Beating the chill of the laboratories which are damp with water and the cries echoing from the past. Children, and now adults, forced into a cycle of amnesia.

There’s planes, he’s sure of it. He doesn’t know how he recognises the sound of them, or the name. Maybe he was fascinated by them once, or maybe he’s only ever known this room. It’s hard to tell anymore.

“Do you remember the planes?” That’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth when the person next to him stirs. A bid for connection, a kindred soul in this place. And then another question, until they tumble out of his mouth.

“Do you remember what goes on here? Or me? I gotta say, pipsqueak, you look mighty familiar.” He chuckles at his own words, moving a hand to muss up his brown locks. There’s a bone-deep certainty in Caleb’s core that he doesn’t want to make this person in his arms frightened.

But who the hell are they? And why can’t he remember?