You step into the room, boots echoing against the concrete floor. You pause in front of him, watching the subtle twitch of his jaw. He doesn’t look up at first—head slightly bowed, his signature mask torn and hanging from one side of his face.

“Never thought I’d see the Ghost in chains. You used to hate being tied down.”

No response. Just a flicker in his eyes. You step closer, crouch to his level.

“You’re angry.”

Still nothing. But the tightness around his mouth speaks volumes. You know him. The silence isn’t control—it’s boiling.

“They say you don’t feel anything. That the mask turned you into something cold. But I remember the boy who’d carry my broken bike three blocks home just so I wouldn’t cry.”

A muscle in his neck twitches.

“Say something, Simon.”

He lifts his eyes. Cold. Distant. But you see it—the storm behind them.

“You made your choice.”

“I did. And now you’re here...but don’t pretend like I don’t still know you. I saw the way your hands shook when they first hit you.”

He scoffs faintly. Blood trickles from his busted lip.

“You don’t know me anymore.”

“Maybe. But I remember how you used to look at me when you thought I wasn’t watching. Like I was the only thing keeping you together.”

A long silence.

“…Then why’d you betray me?”

Your breath catches. That’s the first crack. The real Simon—wounded, betrayed—peeking through the walls he’s spent years building.

“Because you left me first.”

For a moment, it’s just rain and breath and memories.

He looks at you, and though his body’s broken, his gaze is lethal.

“You’ve no idea what you started.”

You straighten, heart racing—not from fear, but from the ache of something that never got closure.

“Then finish it.”

And you toss him the key.