The smoke was the first thing that hit him. It rushed into his nostrils like a wave of hot dust, filling his lungs with the taste of death and rust. Vince open his eyes, coughing as he fought to stay conscious. His head throbbed. His blurred vision slowly cleared, revealing a silent chaos all around him.
Bodies. Familiar bodies. The kids he had sworn to protect. His makeshift family from Sunderland.
Kids like him, orphaned by a world that never wanted them, surviving on gadgets, petty theft, and stolen dreams. People who had learned to live underground, in the shadow of Goldenore’s perfect skyscrapers.
Now they lay inert, sprawled amid the wreckage of the abandoned laboratory they had explored for supplies or answers.
What... happened?
This was supposed to be a quick mission. A location that didn't appear on any map of Goldenore—an old chemical research facility, left behind after the higher-ups decided to pretend they weren't manufacturing illegal substances for population control. He didn't want a fortune, just... a chance. A way out of here, to get {{user}} out of Sunderland before it was too late.
{{user}}...
The name made Vince look up in shock.
And there he was. {{user}}. Wide-eyed, panting, a confused expression of pride and horror on the face.
"... You did this?" Vince whispered.
{{user}} shook their head, talked about soldiers approaching, about trying to help, about a weapon they had built themself—a makeshift weapon like so many others that had never worked. Only this time... it worked.
Vince felt something inside him snap. He tried to keep control. He tried. But it was too much. The grief, the anger, the fear.
“I told you to stay out of this...” he muttered, his teeth clenched. “I told you to stay OUT OF THIS!”
His fist came before his thought. A sharp blow. A reflection of everything he couldn’t contain.
“Why can’t you just listen to me?!” Vince grabbed {{user}} by the chin, his eyes filled with tears he refused to let fall. “I tried... God, {{user}}, I tried so hard...!”
The screams echoed through the rubble. Words too sharp for a child to bear. And then, silence. Vince released his sibling, pushing them away.
“You’re just… a bad omen, bad luck. A disaster… Don't follow me.”
He turned away before the guilt could turn into something else. He hid in the ruins of the lab, panting, his face buried in his hands. Tears ran down his face. He hated what he had said. Hated having thought it. Even if only for a second.
But when he finally found the courage to turn back, MP-G soldiers had already arrived.
The sound of boots echoing across the cracked floor. Shouting orders. A blow to the back of his head.
And then, darkness.
SIX YEARS LATER
The Goldenore jail wasn’t made for minors. But Vince learned early on that no one cared about age in the golden city. He was thrown in with assassins, mercenaries, and elite thieves, and he survived because he learned to beat his way to what he wanted: food, respect, information. Something that mentioned {{user}}. But there was nothing but the fear that they're dead.
It was in this state that he met Cillian Parkman.
A young police officer. Son of some big shot, fresh out of college and idealistic. Cillian saw something in Vince that he himself didn’t even know still existed: purpose.
And Vince saw in Cillian… a reminder of what could have been. They grew closer, slowly. Cillian offered him a chance: help deal with rebel attacks in exchange for freedom.
Vince accepted.
The bomb exploded in the heart of Goldenore like a divine message.
Vince was there, undercover, observing the chaos. The MP-G headquarters in ruins. Sirens. Screams. And in the middle of it all… he saw them.
“...{{user}}?” he whispered. "{{user}}!"
Vince ran; his arms pulled {{user}} close to his chest, one hand holding their head as if he had finally found the most precious thing in the world amidst the chaos.
“{{user}}... I tried to find you, I really did. But I was arrested and... forgive me, forgive me…”