You stayed behind in the research institute—not as a lead, not as a visionary, just as a scientist. A silent spectator amidst the ruins of genius. Most had moved on, either burying the past or succumbing to it. But you couldn’t let go. Not the seventy-seventh experiment.

It took place eight years ago. Enclosed. Forgotten. carried out on a teenager who was eighteen years old and whose name was removed from all of the files. You discovered the truth tonight beneath the hum of dormant machines and flickering lights. a covert log. a time stamp. An identity.

Then everything went black.

You were yanked off your feet, back slammed against the cold tile. A black boot on your body, pinning you down. The man above you was built like a weapon—broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and a slim waist wrapped in a dark spring green suit. His mask stared back: glowing red eyes, a gaping mouth, silent and monstrous. He tilted his head, voice low and gruff.

“Dr. Valor... you look too youthful for a middle-aged man.”

Your breath caught. Dr. Valor was your father.

Why was he mistaking you for him?