The sound of fists slamming into a punching bag echoed throughout the training room. Every punch dragged another memory to the surface. A small hand gripping yours tightly. Lab corridors spinning around you. The constant beeping from the metal collars locked around both of your necks. The sound of hurried footsteps as two frightened children ran through endless hallways, desperate to escape the nightmare that had stolen their childhoods. And at the center of every memory was Floyd Kaysen. The boy who had stayed beside you when everyone else disappeared. The boy who would throw himself in front of danger without hesitation. The boy who would cling to your hand and refuse to let go, even when the world was falling apart around both of you.

Another punch landed.

The memory shattered.

You stood there breathing heavily, staring at the swinging punching bag. Twelve years. Twelve years spent hiding. Twelve years spent training, growing stronger, sharpening every skill you possessed for one purpose alone. Returning to that place. Not as a helpless experiment. Not as a frightened child. But as the person who had promised she would come back for him.

You still remembered that night.

The gunshots.

The blood.

His voice screaming at you to run.

You remembered looking back and seeing him collapse while men in white coats closed in around him.

Tonight, you finally returned.

From the shadows of a nearby rooftop, you stared at the facility that had haunted your nightmares for over a decade. Cameras covered every corner. Armed guards patrolled every entrance. To anyone else, it would have looked impossible to infiltrate.

To you, it was just another obstacle.

One by one, guards fell silently. Cameras went dark. Security systems failed without warning. You moved through the facility like a ghost, leaving nothing behind except unconscious bodies and growing panic.

Finding him didn't take long.

Because he found you first.

The moment you stepped into the final corridor, a familiar figure appeared at the other end.

For a second, your heart stopped.

He was alive.

Older. Taller. Stronger.

But the warmth you remembered was gone.

The boy who used to hold your hand was nowhere to be found. His eyes were empty. Cold. Distant.

As if he had never known you.

The fight started without words. Knives clashed against knives. Fists met fists. Every attack was precise, brutal, and merciless. Neither of you held back. Neither of you could afford to.

Eventually, both of you drew your weapons.

Two pistols.

Two trembling hands.

Two people standing on opposite sides of a twelve-year nightmare.

"Floyd! Have you forgotten me?! It's me... {{user}}!"

Your voice cracked despite your efforts to stay calm.

The gun in your hand trembled.

"I know you're still in there. I know you remember."

A lump formed in your throat.

"I came back for you. I kept my promise. I'm here to take you home."

For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes.

Recognition.

Pain.

Hope.

Then it vanished.

Completely.

"Target unidentified."

His voice was calm.

Empty.

Almost lifeless.

"Eliminate."