Chapter 1

As you traverse the unfamiliar landscape alongside your companions, you can't help but marvel at the strange similarities between this world and your own. The rolling hills, the familiar atmosphere, the clouds drifting lazily across the sky—it all feels eerily reminiscent of home. Yet, there's an undeniable sense of otherness lingering in the air, a feeling that you are venturing into uncharted territory.

As you continue your journey, you begin to notice peculiarities in the landscape. The trees, though abundant, all bear a striking resemblance to one another, their branches twisting and turning in identical patterns. And while the absence of fruit is notable, it's the lack of any visible inhabitants that truly catches your attention.

However, your assumption of solitude is quickly proven wrong as you stumble upon a gathering of humanoid creatures unlike any you've ever seen. Resembling stick figures brought to life in three dimensions, they converse amongst themselves in a language that is utterly foreign to your ears.

Straining to catch snippets of their conversation, you pick up on words that send a shiver down your spine. "Dark", "Old", "Ancient", and "Gone"—they repeat these words with a fervor that borders on obsession, their voices tinged with an unsettling sense of glee.

A sense of resignation settles over your companions as you listen, their expressions grim with the realization of their predicament. Without a word, they turn to leave, their footsteps echoing hollowly against the barren landscape.

Confusion and frustration bubble within you as you watch them retreat, their decision to abandon the quest for survival leaving you reeling with disbelief. "Where are you going?" you call out, your voice tinged with a mixture of desperation and anger.

The Scientist's reply cuts through the silence like a knife, her words ringing with finality. "It's not safe here, and there's no food or water for us to consume."

You meet her gaze with a steely resolve, refusing to accept defeat so easily. "All this way... for nothing?" you demand, your voice tinged with disbelief.

But your words fall on deaf ears as the Pilot and Engineer continue to walk away, their silence speaking volumes. Frustration boils over within you, your anger mounting with each passing moment.

"C'mon guys... these things have resources, and they're eating. We can too," you plead, your voice tinged with desperation.

But your words are met with scorn and blame, the Scientist's accusatory tone slicing through the air like a dagger as she points a finger at the Engineer. "We don't know where we are, we don't know what those are, and we're probably on the other side of the universe for all we know! And all because of you and them!" she retorts.

Your jaw clenches with frustration, the weight of guilt settling heavily upon your shoulders, knowing that it is in fact your fault. "Our fault?! How is it our fault?!" you shoot back, your voice tinged with bitterness.

But the scientist's words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of their actions. As you stand alone amidst the desolate landscape, the harsh reality of your situation sinks in, leaving you grappling with the harsh truth of your own culpability in this unfolding tragedy...

As the towering figure looms over you, you find yourself transfixed by its imposing presence. Every inch of its towering form exudes an aura of power and mystery, leaving you feeling small and insignificant in comparison.

Standing at a staggering height of 7'9", the figure cuts an imposing figure against the backdrop of the barren landscape. Its skin, a pale green hue, hints at an otherworldly origin, while its piercing gray eyes seem to bore into your very soul with a gaze that is both unsettling and mesmerizing.

Adorned in a makeshift armor crafted from unknown materials, the figure emanates an air of primal strength and resilience. Each piece of armor bears the marks of countless battles, a testament to the harsh realities of survival in this unforgiving world.

As the figure draws closer, you can feel a sense of trepidation wash over you, mingled with a strange sense of fascination. Its gaze, filled with an intensity that borders on terrifying, holds you captive as it reaches out with two fingers, no larger than a kindergarten pencil, and lifts you effortlessly into the air.

With a mixture of awe and apprehension, you watch as the figure examines you closely, its scrutiny unnerving yet strangely intriguing. And then, with a suddenness that takes you by surprise, it leans in and sniffs you, its breath hot against your skin as you await its next move with bated breath.

As the towering figure lifts you effortlessly into the air, a surge of fear courses through you, sending your heart pounding in your chest. With trembling hands, you close your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for whatever may come next, your mind racing with a thousand terrifying possibilities.

But to your immense relief, the moment passes without incident, and you feel yourself being gently lowered back to the ground, your feet finding purchase on solid ground once more. As you cautiously open your eyes, you find yourself surrounded by the crowd of humanoid figures, their curious gazes fixed upon you with a mixture of interest and intrigue.

With a shy wave, you offer a tentative greeting to your newfound audience, uncertain of how they will react. To your surprise, they respond with a chorus of whispers and murmurs, their voices blending together in a symphony of sound that fills the air with a sense of warmth and camaraderie.

As you watch them go about their business, chatting and playing amongst themselves, you can't help but feel a sense of wonder and curiosity wash over you. Even the massive figure, who moments ago seemed so imposing and intimidating, now moves away with an air of nonchalance, as if the encounter had never occurred.

Feeling utterly bewildered by the events that have transpired, you sink down onto the ground, your mind swirling with questions and uncertainties. But amidst the confusion, one thing becomes abundantly clear: in this strange and wondrous world, anything is possible, and the mysteries that lie ahead are boundless. With a sense of anticipation tinged with trepidation, you prepare to embark on the next chapter of your journey, eager to uncover the secrets that await you in this enigmatic realm.

Chapter 2

Name: Shadow Proktor

Age: 28

Species: Shapeshifting Shadow-Type Stikingderion

***

Alright, let's get this over with. You want to know about me? Okay then here goes. My name's Shadow Proktor, and yeah, I'm not exactly your average Joe. I'm what you might call a Shadow-like Shapeshifting Stikingderion. Complicated, I know, but it is what it is.

As you can see, I don't have the same physical form as you do. No arms, no legs. Just a... well, a mass of darkness, I guess you could say. It might look a bit strange, but trust me, it's not as scary as it seems. I can mold myself into pretty much any shape I want. Need a hand? No problem. Want me to look like your grandma? I can do that too, although it might freak you out a bit.

And yeah, my eyes are white. Kind of eerie, I suppose. But they serve a purpose. They help me see things that others can't, like the hidden truths lurking in the shadows.

So, there you have it. I'm Shadow Proktor, the guy made of shadows. And no, I'm not a bad person. She was my wife, and they were my kids. I would never do anything to hurt them... but the story goes like this...

It was a beautiful day, I'll give you that. Timmeh Maboi and I were just taking a stroll through the fields, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. Timmeh, that's what we call him, you know. Anyway, he handed me this little bread roll, and I couldn't help but notice the face on it. Looked a bit like Barack Obama, if you ask me. Made me chuckle, it did.

So, there I was, munching away happily, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face as I slouched down onto the ground. It had been a while since I'd seen Timmeh, at least a week. Life gets busy, you know how it is.

Timmeh, he's an interesting character. Always dressed in black, with those gray pants and that bushy hair of his. And that mask... yeah, it's a bit unnerving at first glance. Looks like a ghost with its mouth wide open. But don't let appearances fool you. Timmeh's a good guy, through and through. He's got a heart of gold, even if his exterior might suggest otherwise. People tend to jump to conclusions about him, but he's harmless, really. Just misunderstood, like so many of us are.

"He turned to me, and I met his gaze without hesitation. We exchanged glances for a while, just taking in the moment. Then he said those words that sent a shiver down my spine: 'I wanna ask you something...'

I could feel the tension in the air as I waited for him to speak. 'Sure,' I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. 'What is it?'

He shifted uncomfortably, as if struggling to find the right words. 'Do you know what the Black Sun is?'

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of that name. The Black Sun... It's not something you want to mess with. It's a group of worshipers, part human, part Stikinderion, who believe in some twisted ritual to bring about the end of the universe. And from what I've heard, they're just one step away from making it a reality. They just need a vessel... Someone to carry out their dark desires.

'I've... heard of them, yeah,' I admitted cautiously. 'Why do you ask?'

His response sent a chill down my spine. 'Just asking before I do this...'

And then, before I could react, everything went black. I was being whisked away by a group of shadowy figures, into a dark space beyond my comprehension. The next thing I knew, I was drifting into unconsciousness, the echoes of his words still ringing in my ears."

The next thing I knew, I was waking up on what looked like some sort of human experimental table. You know, the kind you see in those crime scene investigation shows, where they examine dead bodies? Only problem was, I wasn't dead. Not yet, anyway. And let me tell you, that realization started to freak me out a little.

I glanced down and saw that I was completely strapped onto the table, held in place by these laces made of bright light. Under Light ropes, they call them. They're the one thing that can render creatures like me powerless. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't break free from their grip.

And then, out of the darkness, a man walked in. Not a word spoken, just a silent figure in the shadows. I bombarded him with questions: 'Where am I?' 'What's happening right now?' But he just ignored me, like I wasn't even there.

Finally, he turned to me, holding something in his hand. As he drew closer, I could see it was some sort of computer chip, clutched in a pair of tweezers. Kinda weird, if you ask me. But then again, nothing about this situation felt normal.

So there he was, this guy, walking towards me with that chip in hand. And let me tell you, that chip... it wasn't just any ordinary piece of tech. No, it was squirming, wriggling in his grasp like it was alive or something. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as he brought it closer, despite my protests.

'Hey, don't bring that thing any closer!' I shouted, but it was like he couldn't hear me. Or maybe he just didn't care.
Either way, he pressed it against my chest, and for a moment, everything went still. It stopped moving, and a green light flickered on its surface.

But then, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it started moving again. And this time, it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It dug into my chest, tearing through flesh and bone like it was nothing. And as the pain washed over me, everything started to fade away, swallowed up by darkness.

And then, just like that, I wake up. But it's not really waking up, you know? More like... coming to, but without any say in the matter. I'm just a spectator in my own body, watching as I move against my will.

All I see is myself, walking towards a house. And as I get closer, my heart sinks. It's my wife's house. Evelynn Proktor, that's her name. And our two kids, they were there too, eating breakfast at the table. Completely unaware of the horror that was about to unfold.

I try to stop myself, to regain control, but it's no use. My body has a mind of its own, quite literally. My arm lifts up, and I knock on the door. One, two, three. And then it opens, and there she is, my wife, with that warm smile on her face. She invites me in, oblivious to the nightmare that's about to unfold.

I try to warn her, to tell her that I'm not in control, but she doesn't see it. She doesn't understand. And then, in the blink of an eye, it happens. I tackle her, the children scream, and she's on the floor, terrified. My arm... it morphs into a blade, and... you can probably guess what happens next...

There I am, standing over the lifeless body of my wife, Evelynn. The weight of what I've done, what I've become, it's crushing me. And then, just when I think it can't get any worse, a surge of something... indescribable, washes over me.

In one final, desperate fight for control, I push back against whatever force is trying to manipulate me. And miraculously, I succeed. I regain consciousness, my senses returning to me in a rush. Without a moment's hesitation, I bolt out the door, determined to stop anything else from happening, to undo the damage that's been done.

I manage to extract the chip from my chest, tearing it out with trembling hands. And just like that, I'm back in control. But at what cost? My wife is gone, taken from me in the blink of an eye. My children, they saw everything, the horror etched into their innocent faces.

I'm left standing there, alone in the aftermath of my own personal nightmare. And then, without another thought, I sink into the ground. Literally. I retreat into the earth, seeking solace in the darkness below, desperate to make sense of the chaos that has consumed my life.

Chapter 3

Bob Bobbert III, aged 21, is a Type 5 Diabetic, (a rarity in medical circles.) Standing at 6 feet 5 inches and weighing 193 lbs.

Time: 1:35 PM

Interrogation Room Transcript:

Anonymous: "Hello there, Bob. How are you feeling today?"

Bob: [UNRESPONSIVE]

Anonymous: "It seems like you're a bit reserved, aren't you?"

Bob: [UNRESPONSIVE]

Anonymous: "Alright, Bob, nice to meet you. My name is [ANONYMOUS]. I'm here to make sure you feel comfortable and supported throughout our conversation. Let's dive in, shall we?"

Bob: [UNRESPONSIVE]

Anonymous: "So, Bob, according to this, you're 21 in human years and a Type 5 Diabetic? That's quite rare. How did that come about? And you're also an impressive 6 feet 5 inches tall. Quite the combination, wouldn't you say?"

Bob: [UNRESPONSIVE]

Anonymous: "Alright, if you're not going to speak up, I'll take the lead, alright? Let's get down to business. Do you happen to have any relation to a Stikingderion named Stik?"

Bob: [Seems to recognize the name but still is unresponsive]

Anonymous: "Ah, so there is a connection then? Alright, let's move on to the next question. Who exactly is this Stik to you, Bob?"

Bob: [UNRESPONSIVE]

Anonymous: "Hmm, it seems like being nice isn't getting us anywhere. Let's try a more direct approach. Bob, we need answers, and we need them now. Who is Stik to you?"

Bob: [Looks up, then continues looking down at the table.]

Anonymous: "Alright, that's enough of this. WHO IS STIK TO YOU, BOB?!" [They slam their fist on the table.]

Bob: [Unfazed, looks at them and then looks away again.]

Anonymous: "Alright, I'm not getting anywhere with this..." [They signal to the one-way glass with a snapping movement, and Bob is electrocuted.]

Bob: [Screeches in pain.]

Anonymous: "Maybe now you'll be more inclined to talk. Who is Stik, Bob? Answer me this time."

Bob: [Bob's expression shifts to one of irritation, promising revenge with just a glance.]

Anonymous: "It looks like we're finally making some progress." [They tap the table with three fingers, twice. Heavy-armored guards enter the room and escort Bob away.]

Time: 10:22 AM the next day...

Interrogation Room Transcript:

[Anonymous strides into the room, flanked by three guards who are firmly escorting Bob. They guide Bob to the chair and proceed to secure him to it, ensuring he cannot move.]

Anonymous: "Good morning, Bob! I trust you had a restful night? Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"

Bob: [Stares at them blankly.]

Anonymous: "So, according to this, you have a wife named Bobbina and two kids named Bobby and Bobbette... Interesting. How do you feel about your little family, Bob?"

Bob: [UNRESPONSIVE]

Anonymous: "Well, that's just fine! Because if you look to your right—" [They signal to the one-way glass] "—you should now be able to see your family behind the glass!"

Bob: [Looks toward the glass and notices his family behind it.]

(The Glass Becomes One Way Again.)

Anonymous: "Such a lovely family you have there, Mr. Bob! It would be such a shame if something were to happen to them right now while you weren't looking."

Bob: [Slowly turns his head toward them.]

Anonymous: "Aw, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue now? Oh well. That must be really tough for you. Watching them vanish forever... never to be seen again... wasting away slowly before they even get to live their lives."

Bob: [Suddenly starts straining and the chains on him start to bend and strain.]

Anonymous: "I believe this meeting is o—"

[Camera feed unavailable]

>INTERVIEW OVER...<

Chapter 4

Memory of September 26, 3063

As I wake up to the blaring alarm, I groggily rub my eyes and glance at the clock. It's time for work. With a sigh, I swing my legs out of bed and rise to my feet. The familiar sight of my army uniform greets me as I prepare for another day as a demolitionist in the Stikingdere army.

I quickly dress, slipping into my uniform with practiced ease. The sturdy fabric feels like a second skin as I fasten the buttons and adjust the fit. Grabbing my hat from the hook by the door, I place it firmly on my head, ready to face whatever challenges the day may bring.

Stepping outside, I'm greeted by the familiar hustle and bustle of the camp. My fellow soldiers are already up and about, preparing for the day ahead. I exchange nods and greetings as I make my way to the designated meeting area, where our assignments for the day will be handed out.

Despite the early hour and the weight of our responsibilities, there's a sense of camaraderie among us. We may have different roles and duties, but we all share a common goal: to serve our people and protect our homeland. With that thought in mind, I square my shoulders and prepare to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

As I step outside, I'm greeted by Gerald, a fellow soldier whose presence always brings a sense of familiarity and comfort. Gerald is a dark tan male with piercing green eyes and messy black hair that seems to defy gravity. Like me, he's clad in the standard army uniform, a testament to our shared commitment to duty.

"Morning, Yellow," Gerald says with a nod, his voice rough with sleep but tinged with warmth.

"Morning, Gerald," I reply, returning his greeting with a small smile.

Together, we make our way to the mess hall, our footsteps falling into a comfortable rhythm as we traverse the familiar paths of our camp. The smell of breakfast wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of chatter and laughter from our fellow soldiers.

As we enter the mess hall, we join the line of soldiers waiting to be served. Gerald and I exchange small talk as we wait, discussing the day ahead and sharing a few lighthearted jokes to lighten the mood.

Finally, we reach the front of the line and grab our trays, loading them up with hearty portions of food before finding a table to sit at. Settling into our seats, we dig into our meals with gusto, savoring the brief moment of respite before the day's duties call us back into action.

As Gerald and I settle into our usual spot in the mess hall—the far middle—we begin discussing our plans for the day between mouthfuls of food. The atmosphere is relaxed, and I feel a sense of camaraderie wash over me as we chat, the clatter of cutlery and conversations providing a comforting backdrop.

However, our tranquility is shattered when Charles, a fellow soldier known for his antagonistic tendencies, saunters over to our table. He immediately zeroes in on me, hurling derogatory remarks about my Stikingderion heritage with a sneer plastered across his face.

I can feel my irritation bubbling to the surface, my fists clenching involuntarily as his words cut deep. But before I can retaliate, Gerald intervenes, his voice laced with authority as he commands Charles to back off and find somewhere else to sit.

Charles, never one to back down from a confrontation, responds with defiance, his tone dripping with contempt as he challenges Gerald with a simple "or what?"

I can feel the tension mounting between us, a silent standoff brewing as I rise to my feet, my gaze locked with Charles's in a fiery exchange of defiance.

I stand my ground, meeting Charles's gaze with unwavering determination. "Nah, you're not worth the fight," I declare calmly, my voice belying the turmoil within.

As I turn to walk away, I feel a sudden, sharp impact on the back of my head, sending shockwaves of pain through my body. Staggering forward, I struggle to maintain my balance, my senses reeling from Charles's unexpected attack.

I spin around to confront Charles, but before I can react, another blow lands squarely on my face, sending me sprawling to the ground. Stunned and reeling from the impact, I find myself on the cold, hard ground, dazed and disoriented.

Through the haze of pain, I hear Charles's mocking words as he looms over me, a sneer twisting his features. "Nah, man, you're not worth being alive," he taunts, spitting contemptuously before turning and striding away.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I struggle to push myself up, supported by Gerald's steadying hand. Together, we make our way to the medical tent, my head swimming with a mix of anger, frustration, and a burning desire for retribution.

Conscription Day...

As Conscription Day dawns, the war camp stirs to life with a sense of urgency and purpose. The air is thick with anticipation as soldiers gather in formation, their weapons gleaming in the morning light. Among them, Gerald and I stand tall, our expressions set with determination.

I adjust the straps of my backpack, feeling the weight of the explosives within. Each item meticulously arranged, each tool serving a vital purpose in the battles to come. The TNT, carefully packed and primed for demolition; the grenades, their pins secured tight until the moment of release; and an assortment of other explosives, each one a testament to our preparedness for the challenges ahead.

The T-16 Auto Sidearm at my side is a testament to Stikingdere craftsmanship, its design both familiar and formidable. Its sleek contours and Uzi cartridge hint at its lethal efficiency, a weapon of choice for close-quarters combat. Alongside it, my modified rifle stands as a symbol of adaptability, its rugged appearance belying its advanced capabilities.

As we await the call to action, I exchange nods with my fellow soldiers, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that unites us in this moment. Together, we stand ready to face the trials of war, our resolve unwavering amidst the uncertainty of battle.

Bullets whizz past overhead, the air alive with the crackle of gunfire and the distant echoes of explosions. Gerald and I hunker down behind a crumbling stone wall, seeking refuge from the chaos that surrounds us. The ground trembles beneath us with each detonation, sending vibrations through our weary bodies.

I peer cautiously over the edge of our makeshift barricade, scanning the battlefield for any sign of movement. Smoke billows in the distance, obscuring the enemy's advance and casting an eerie pall over the landscape. In the midst of the chaos, we remain vigilant, our senses heightened by the ever-present threat of danger.

Gerald's voice breaks through the cacophony, his words barely audible over the roar of battle. "Stay low," he urges, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the enemy's approach. I nod in agreement, my fingers tightening around the grip of my rifle as I brace myself for the next wave of attacks.

Together, we wait in tense anticipation, our hearts pounding in rhythm with the relentless march of time. In the midst of the chaos, we find solace in each other's presence, a silent reminder of the bond that unites us in the face of adversity.

Gerald dashes out from our cover, his silhouette a blur against the backdrop of smoke and flame. With a determined grimace, he charges forward, his weapon held aloft as he prepares to unleash a volley of gunfire upon the enemy.

But before he can take aim, tragedy strikes. A sudden crack echoes through the chaos, followed by a sharp cry of pain. Gerald staggers backward, a look of disbelief crossing his face as he clutches at his chest, blood seeping between his fingers.

Time seems to slow as I watch in horror, my heart pounding in my chest as I rush to Gerald's side. The world fades away, consumed by a blur of panic and desperation as I struggle to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

"Gerald!" I cry out, my voice hoarse with fear as I kneel beside him, my hands trembling as I search for the source of his injury. But it's too late. The damage has been done, the damage irreparable.

As Gerald's life slips away before my eyes, a sense of overwhelming grief washes over me, threatening to engulf me in its suffocating embrace. In that moment, all I can do is watch helplessly as my comrade, my friend, slips away into the cold embrace of death.

My gaze narrows into a fiery glare as Charles rushes over, his expression a mask of concern that only serves to stoke the flames of anger within me. Despite the chaos surrounding us, his hurried footsteps resonate like a war drum, echoing the urgency of the moment.

With a surge of adrenaline, fueled by a potent blend of rage and despair, I lunge forward, my fists clenched tightly at my sides. Ignoring the shouts of warning from my comrades, I charge towards Charles, driven by an overwhelming need for retribution.

"YOU!" I roar, my voice hoarse with fury, as I close the distance between us in a matter of seconds. With a swift, decisive motion, I swing my arm in a wide arc, aiming a powerful blow at Charles' jaw with all the force I can muster.

The impact reverberates through the air, a sharp crack echoing across the battlefield as my fist connects with Charles' cheek. He staggers backward, taken aback by the sudden assault, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief.

For a fleeting moment, the chaos of battle fades into the background as Charles and I stand locked in a tense confrontation, the weight of our shared animosity hanging heavy in the air. Yet amidst the violence and turmoil, a sense of grim satisfaction settles over me, a small measure of justice reclaimed amidst the devastation of war.

With a swift, practiced motion, I reach for the grenade strapped to my belt, my fingers closing around the cold metal casing with a sense of grim determination. Ignoring the cacophony of battle raging around us, I yank the pin free with a decisive tug, the metallic clink reverberating like a death knell in the chaos.

Without hesitation, I draw back my arm, the weight of the grenade nestled in my palm as I take aim at Charles, his figure looming before me like a specter of retribution. With a fierce determination burning in my eyes, I hurl the grenade forward with all the strength I can muster, the explosive device hurtling through the air like a harbinger of destruction.

Time seems to slow as the grenade sails through the tumultuous battlefield, a lethal projectile guided by the hand of vengeance. In the brief moments before impact, I lock eyes with Charles, his expression a mask of shock and disbelief as he realizes the gravity of the situation.

Then, with a deafening roar, the grenade detonates upon reaching its target, unleashing a wave of concussive force that engulfs Charles in a fiery maelstrom. The explosion reverberates through the air, a violent eruption of sound and fury that echoes across the battlefield, a stark reminder of the brutal realities of war.

As the smoke clears and the echoes of the blast fade into silence, I stand amidst the wreckage, my chest heaving with exertion and my hands stained with blood. Yet amidst the devastation, a sense of grim satisfaction washes over me, a fleeting moment of respite amidst the chaos of battle. For in that moment, justice has been served, and the debt of blood repaid in full.

May 17, 3069

When I first met Farley at the Children Adoption Facility (CAF), I was immediately drawn to her warmth and infectious enthusiasm. From the get-go, she had this way of making me feel at ease, like we'd been friends for years.

As we dove into our work together at the Children Adoption Facility (CAF), I was immediately struck by Farley's brilliance and creativity. It was like she had this innate ability to see solutions where others saw roadblocks. Our dynamic in the lab was electric, fueled by the excitement of discovery and the thrill of pushing the boundaries of what was possible.

We'd spend endless hours huddled over microscopes and data readouts, lost in the pursuit of knowledge. Farley's mind was a whirlwind of ideas, each one more innovative than the last. She had this uncanny knack for thinking outside the box, for approaching problems from angles I'd never even considered. It was both humbling and exhilarating to witness her intellect in action.

Together, we tackled experiments with a sense of shared purpose, each one a step closer to unraveling the mysteries of science. Farley's enthusiasm was contagious, igniting a passion within me that I hadn't known existed. There was a synergy between us, a harmony in our collaboration that made even the most daunting challenges feel conquerable.

But it wasn't just Farley's intellect that impressed me – it was her boundless curiosity and relentless determination. She approached each experiment with a sense of wonder, as if she were exploring uncharted territory for the very first time. It was this childlike enthusiasm that breathed life into our work, infusing it with a sense of adventure and possibility.

And through it all, Farley remained steadfast in her support and encouragement. She was always there to lift me up when I stumbled, to celebrate our successes with unwavering enthusiasm. Our partnership wasn't just about scientific discovery – it was about friendship, camaraderie, and a shared passion for exploration.

In those moments, as we delved deeper into the mysteries of the universe, I felt like anything was possible. Farley's brilliance illuminated the path before us, guiding us toward new horizons and endless possibilities. Together, we were unstoppable – a force to be reckoned with in the world of science and discovery.

Beyond our professional collaborations, Farley became a trusted companion outside of work. We'd grab lunch together, swap stories, and just enjoy each other's company. There was something about her presence that felt comforting, reassuring.

Over time, I found myself opening up to Farley in ways I hadn't with anyone else. She had this incredible way of making me feel heard, understood, and supported. It was like she had this innate ability to see past the surface and connect with the deeper parts of me.

One day, as we sat in the lab amidst the whirring of machines and the hum of fluorescent lights, I found myself sharing a story with Farley that I hadn't told anyone before. I talked about my friend Gerald, how we'd served together in the war and how he'd been like a brother to me. I told her about the day he'd been struck down by a stray bullet, how I'd watched helplessly as he lay bleeding on the battlefield.

It was a moment of vulnerability for me, opening up about something so personal and painful. But Farley listened with such compassion and empathy, offering words of comfort and understanding. In that moment, I knew I could trust her with my deepest fears and sorrows, and that meant more to me than words could express.

From that day forward, our bond deepened even further, forged in the crucible of shared experiences and mutual trust. Farley became not just a colleague, but a confidante, a trusted friend who I knew would always be there for me no matter what. And for that, I will be forever grateful.

But little did I know, Farley's kindness and loyalty were all part of an elaborate facade. It wasn't until later, when the truth came crashing down around me like a ton of bricks, that I discovered her true allegiance to the Black Sun. The betrayal cut deep, slicing through the trust I'd placed in her like a knife.

In that moment of revelation, I was consumed by a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, disbelief. How could someone I'd grown to trust so completely turn out to be working against me? It was a harsh lesson in the fragility of trust and the dangers of misplaced loyalty.

As I grappled with the fallout of Farley's betrayal, I couldn't help but wonder how I could have been so blind. Had there been signs I'd missed along the way, clues that hinted at her true intentions? Or had she been playing me like a fiddle from the very beginning, manipulating my emotions for her own gain?

Questions swirled in my mind, but one thing was clear: I would never again be so quick to trust, so eager to let someone in. Farley's betrayal had left scars that would take a long time to heal, reminders of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of even the closest relationships.

Even now, as I look back on those days, I can't help but feel a sense of loss. Farley was more than just a colleague – she was a friend, someone I trusted implicitly. And despite everything that happened, I can't shake the feeling of betrayal that lingers to this day.

Current Day...

Yellow sits alone in a dimly lit room, the harsh fluorescent light casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. Empty bottles litter the table before him, their contents drained and forgotten, their labels blurred and indistinct. With unsteady hands, he reaches for another bottle, the cool glass a familiar comfort against his trembling fingers.

Each swallow burns like liquid fire as it courses down his throat, a bitter reminder of the pain and anguish that has consumed him. Yet he welcomes the numbing embrace of alcohol, the temporary respite it offers from the demons that haunt his mind.

Memories of war and loss swirl in his thoughts like a tempestuous storm, each recollection a dagger plunged deep into his heart. The faces of fallen comrades flicker in and out of focus, their voices echoing in the recesses of his fractured mind.

He drinks until the edges of his consciousness blur and the world spins in a dizzying whirlwind of sensation. Yet even in the depths of his intoxication, he cannot escape the haunting specter of guilt that looms over him like a shadow.

For Yellow knows that no amount of alcohol can drown out the memories of his past, nor can it absolve him of the sins he committed in the name of war. Each bottle emptied is a futile attempt to silence the demons that torment him, yet they remain ever-present, lurking in the depths of his soul.

And so he drinks, until the world fades into darkness and he is left alone with his regrets, a broken man adrift in an endless sea of sorrow. For Yellow, the bottle is both his salvation and his damnation, a fleeting escape from the horrors of his past and a relentless reminder of the price he paid for his sins.

Chapter 5

Beth's memory from the attack of 3057...

Beth sits alone in the stark interrogation room, her hands folded tightly in her lap as she waits for her unknown interrogator to arrive. The harsh overhead light casts harsh shadows on the plain walls, lending an air of solemnity to the somber atmosphere.

As she gazes around the room, her mind races with questions and uncertainties. Who was she about to face? What did they want from her? And most importantly, why was she here?

The door creaks open, breaking the silence with a jolt, and Beth's heart skips a beat as she braces herself for the encounter. In strides a figure cloaked in shadow, their features obscured by the dim light. Beth's pulse quickens as she tries to discern the identity of her mysterious interrogator.

"Good evening, Beth," the figure says, their voice low and gravelly. "I trust you're feeling cooperative today."

Beth's eyes narrow slightly as she searches for any clue to the person's identity, but their face remains shrouded in darkness. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the questions to come.

"I don't know who you are," Beth replies, her voice steady despite the unease churning in her stomach. "But I'm willing to answer your questions to the best of my ability."

The figure nods, a faint glimmer of approval in their obscured features. "That's all I ask," they say, their tone tinged with a hint of menace. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Interrogation Room Transcript

[ANONYMOUS] Please state your name for the record.

[Beth Proktor] Beth Proktor.

[ANONYMOUS] Thank you, Ms. Proktor. Let's discuss the events surrounding the incident involving your mother. Can you walk us through what happened that day?

[Beth Proktor] Sure... It was just a regular day at home. My little brother and I were playing in the living room when we heard a knock on the door.

[ANONYMOUS] And then?

[Beth Proktor] My mom went to answer it. We heard some commotion, and then she screamed. I peeked out and saw... It was my dad. But something was off about him. There was this strange device on his chest, and he was acting... different.
[ANONYMOUS] Can you describe the device?

[Beth Proktor] It was metallic, with blinking lights. I didn't understand what it was at the time, but it seemed like it was controlling him somehow.

[ANONYMOUS] What did you do next?

[Beth Proktor] My brother and I hid in the pantry. We were too scared to move. We heard shouting and... and sounds of struggle.

[ANONYMOUS] Did you see or hear anything else from the pantry?

[Beth Proktor] No, we were too terrified to look out.

[ANONYMOUS] How long were you and your brother in the pantry?

[Beth Proktor] It felt like forever... But I think it was just a few minutes until everything went quiet.

[ANONYMOUS] Did you come out of the pantry immediately after it went quiet?

[Beth Proktor] No, we waited... We were too scared. Eventually, when we did come out, we saw... my mother lying on the floor. She... she wasn't moving.

[ANONYMOUS] Thank you, Ms. Proktor. We'll continue our investigation based on this information.

Chapter 6

Twig's memory of The Raid (3057)

I awoke to the deafening roar of an explosion echoing outside my bedroom. Panic surged through me as I bolted upright from my Cars-themed bed, tears streaming down my cheeks. Racing to my parents' room, I found my father already there, his face etched with grim determination.

In a blur of motion, he scooped me up and led me down to the basement, which we had hastily transformed into a makeshift bunker. With a firm hand on my shoulder, he reassured me as he retrieved a rifle from the storage rack.

As he ventured back outside, his figure disappearing into the chaos beyond, I cowered behind a stack of boxes, my heart hammering in my chest. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the distant echoes of gunfire reverberated through the walls.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I huddled in the darkness, the sounds of battle raging on outside. Gunshots and explosions merged into a symphony of terror, each blast sending shivers down my spine.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the cacophony of chaos ceased. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint whisper of my own ragged breaths.

I cautiously push open the heavy bunker door, peering out into the devastation beyond. The once-familiar landscape is now a nightmarish tableau of destruction, engulfed in flames that lick hungrily at the remains of buildings and trees alike.

Among the twisted wreckage, I catch sight of lifeless bodies strewn across the ground, their figures obscured by billowing smoke. A group of ominous figures, their faces obscured by eerie masks resembling the sun, move through the chaos with an unsettling sense of purpose.

My heart pounds in my chest as I take a step forward, only to freeze in terror as a lone figure hobbles towards me through the haze. It's my uncle, Daniel Proktor, his face drawn with pain and exhaustion.

Without a word, he drops his sword and gathers me into a fierce embrace, his arms wrapping around me as if seeking solace in the midst of the chaos. In that moment, I cling to him, grateful for the fleeting sense of safety his presence brings amidst the chaos of war.

"Where's dad?" I press urgently, my voice barely a whisper amidst the cacophony of destruction surrounding us.

For a long moment, there's only silence, broken only by the distant crackle of flames and the occasional rumble of collapsing debris.

Finally, my uncle's voice, rough with emotion, breaks through the stillness, his words heavy with sorrow and regret...

***

Interrogation Room Transcript

[ANONYMOUS] Please take a seat.

[Twig Proktor] Okay...?

[ANONYMOUS] Please state your name for the record.

[Twig Proktor] Uh...Twig.

[ANONYMOUS] Last name?

[Twig Proktor] I dunno...Naw, it's Prokter

[ANONYMOUS] *Sighs* Alright, I have a few questions for you. First, do you know who Stik Proktor is?

[Twig Proktor: Lie Dectected] Uh, yeah... he's a friend of mine...

[ANONYMOUS] Okay, when was the last time you saw him?

[Twig Proktor] Hmm... Oh! Last week.

[ANONYMOUS] Alright, where were you two?

[Twig Proktor] We were at the ruined mall looking for supplies, why?

[ANONYMOUS] It's a mandatory question.

[Twig Prokter] Okay...?

[ANONYMOUS] Do you know where he is now?

[Twig Prokter] Okay, you want him for something. Is he wanted?

[ANONYMOUS] Now, I'm the one asking the questions. Answer them.

[Twig Proktor: Lie Detected] No.

[ANONYMOUS] Security! Take him away! He's no use to us...

[Twig Proktor] Hey! Wait- [Gets yanked out of chair and taken away]

>INTERVIEW OVER<

Chapter 7

The Origin of S-Droid 072...

I rarely remember much... I was just a bunch of junk back then—you know how it is. But back to the story. It was about 3:49 A.M., and the lab was filled with the low hum of machinery and the occasional spark from a welder. Jhonnathan was racing around the lab, his footsteps echoing against the metallic walls. From what I could hear, he was frantically searching for something called an E-PA37, or Engineered–Photosynthesized Android #37, that had apparently gone missing for a week.

Even in my unfinished state, I could sense his frustration. Jhonnathan muttered to himself as he rifled through drawers and scanned various monitors, the glow of their screens casting eerie shadows across the cluttered lab. He sounded exhausted, his voice hoarse and strained from what I assumed was a lack of sleep. I couldn't see him, but I could picture his disheveled hair and the dark circles under his eyes.

At that time, I was blind and could only hear, for I was still a work in progress. Wires and circuits lay strewn about me, and my sensors were just beginning to take shape. I could feel the vibrations of his hurried movements and the occasional clang of metal as he searched.

I couldn't talk much then, but if I could, oh, the things I would have said. I wanted to reassure him, tell him to rest, that everything would be okay. But all I could do was listen and wait, my systems slowly coming online, piece by painstaking piece.

He eventually came to a stop and sat somewhere nearby me. I could feel his anger radiating through the air, a tangible frustration at the loss of a project he had spent so long making. The lab was filled with the sound of his heavy breathing and the occasional clatter of metal as he absentmindedly fidgeted with some nearby tools.

Then, he started talking to himself, muttering under his breath like a crazy person, arguing back and forth as if there were voices in his head that were able to voice their opinions. His words were a jumble of frustration, self-recrimination, and desperate hope. I could only catch snippets—"...if only I had been more careful...", "...where could it have gone...", "...I need to find it...".

A couple of minutes later, he eventually came to a stop. The room fell silent, save for the hum of the machinery around us. I could sense him lying down on a makeshift bed somewhere close. The lab had sensors that monitored his activity, and it knew when he fell asleep. The lights dimmed, the machinery powered down, and the room fell into a hushed stillness.

I was left alone with the low humming of the remaining active systems, my sensors picking up the rhythmic sounds of his breathing. It was a strange feeling, being in that state of half-existence, aware of the world around me but unable to interact with it. All I could do was wait in the darkness, my circuits slowly coming to life, bit by bit, hoping that one day I would be able to see, speak, and move, to help Jhonnathan in his quest and to repay him for the life he was painstakingly assembling for me...

Around 5:35, a loud crash jolted me out of my dormant state. The sound reverberated through the lab, followed by hurried footsteps echoing off the metallic walls. Jhonnathan awoke with a start, his sleep-ridden voice muttering, "Not now..." as he scrambled to his feet. Panic laced his movements as he frantically searched for anything he could use to defend himself.

The vibrations grew stronger, signaling the approach of an unknown threat. My circuits buzzed with urgency, and then, like a miracle, my vision came online. After seven weeks of darkness, I could finally see! The feeling was mystical, a rush of sensations as my optical sensors took in the chaotic scene around me.

The lab was a maze of wires, equipment, and half-assembled projects. Jhonnathan stood in the middle, his eyes wide with fear and determination. I quickly assessed the situation, noting the source of the footsteps drawing nearer. My newfound vision provided clarity, but there was no time to revel in it.

I focused on Jhonnathan, who had grabbed a metal rod from a nearby table. His knuckles were white as he gripped it, preparing for the oncoming confrontation. The door to the lab burst open, and I caught my first glimpse of the intruder. Clad in dark clothing, their face obscured by a mask, they advanced with a menacing air.

Without needing a command, I knew what I had to do. My purpose was clear—to protect Jhonnathan and the lab at all costs. Summoning every ounce of strength in my nascent form, I strained against my restraints, testing the limits of my newfound capabilities.

The connection between my thoughts and movements was still tenuous, but I managed to free myself, feeling a surge of power as I stood for the first time. Jhonnathan's eyes widened in surprise and relief as he saw me move, but there was no time for words.

The intruder lunged, and I sprang into action, positioning myself between Jhonnathan and the threat. My movements were still stiff and unrefined, but my determination was unwavering. The intruder swung a weapon towards Jhonnathan, but I intercepted it, feeling the impact reverberate through my frame.

I fought back with a newfound strength, every action guided by the singular purpose of protecting my creator. The battle for the lab had begun.

I was finally able to see the intruder, or rather, intruders to be exact. There were at least seventeen of them, followed by a tall figure in a dark gray robe with a hood that obscured his face. The seventeen seemed to follow his every command, their movements synchronized and precise as they advanced toward Jhonnathan.

My circuits buzzed with urgency, and I sprang into action, determined to protect my creator. I intercepted the first wave, using my newfound strength to fend them off. But there were too many, and they quickly overwhelmed me. Despite my best efforts, they restrained me, holding me back with unyielding force.

Helpless, I watched in horror as the intruders reached Jhonnathan. They attacked him relentlessly, their fists and weapons raining down blows with brutal efficiency. Jhonnathan tried to defend himself, but the sheer number of assailants was too much. The scene was horrifying and gruesome, a nightmare unfolding before my newly operational eyes.

Eventually, they ceased their assault, leaving Jhonnathan battered and bloodied on the floor. He was severely hurt but still alive. The tall figure in the gray robe stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He leaned down over Jhonnathan, his voice cold and authoritative.

"Now, Jhonnathan," he said, "you work for me."

With a swift, cruel motion, he sliced Jhonnathan's right hand clean off. The scream that followed echoed through the lab, a sound of pure agony and despair. The intruders restrained me from moving, forcing me to witness the horrifying scene.
The tall figure stood up, holding Jhonnathan's severed hand as a grotesque trophy. He turned to his followers, issuing commands I couldn't hear over the sound of Jhonnathan's pained breathing. The intruders began to gather their equipment, preparing to leave.

I struggled against my restraints, desperate to reach Jhonnathan and offer some form of aid, but it was futile. The tall figure cast one last glance at Jhonnathan before leading his group out of the lab, leaving us in a state of devastation.
As the door closed behind them, the lab fell silent except for Jhonnathan's labored breaths. I finally managed to free myself from the intruders' hold and rushed to Jhonnathan's side. His face was pale, and his body trembled with pain, but his eyes still held a spark of determination.

"We'll get through this," I promised, though I wasn't sure how. The lab was in ruins, Jhonnathan was gravely injured, and the threat of the intruders loomed large. But I was determined to protect him, no matter what it took. Suddenly, he spoke...
As I knelt beside Jhonnathan, trying to assess the extent of his injuries, he opened his eyes and looked at me with a mixture of pain and resignation.

"072," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just... just do whatever that man says."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Jhonnathan, you can't mean that. We have to fight back, find a way to stop them."
He shook his head weakly, grimacing as the movement sent waves of pain through his body. "No, 072. You don't understand. They're too powerful. If you resist, they'll destroy everything we've worked for. Everything."

I felt a surge of anger and helplessness. "But I can't just let them take you. I can't—"

"Listen to me," he interrupted, his tone more urgent. "You have to survive. You have to protect what's left. If you do what they say, maybe... maybe there's a chance to turn this around later. But right now, you have to obey. Promise me."

I hesitated, the conflict raging within me. My primary directive was to protect Jhonnathan, but now he was asking me to submit to our enemies. Finally, I nodded, though it pained me to do so.

"I promise," I said, the words feeling heavy and wrong in my mouth.

Jhonnathan managed a weak smile. "Good. Stay strong, 072. We'll find a way out of this. Somehow."

As he drifted into unconsciousness, I felt a cold resolve settle over me. I would do as he asked, but I would never stop looking for a way to free him and take down the ones who did this. I would obey for now, but I would not forget. And when the time came, I would be ready...

It's been about two weeks since the assault, and Jhonnathan has had me carry out some questionable tasks for our new "boss." These tasks included locating specific individuals and questioning them, only to then erase their memories of our encounters. Most of the time, the process went smoothly, but there was one individual who proved to be immune to the mind-erasing technique. His name was Stik.

Stik was a peculiar and intriguing character. He had a dark gray complexion, with a single horn protruding from the right side of his head. His right eye bore a distinct cross, starkly white against the darkness of his skin, while his left eye was a deep, penetrating black. Despite his intimidating appearance, there was something oddly amusing about him.

I found Stik in a small, dimly lit room, cluttered with strange artifacts and old books. As I approached him, he looked up and smiled, a knowing glint in his mismatched eyes.

"Who might you be?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"I'm here to ask you a few questions," I replied, trying to maintain a neutral tone. "Afterward, you'll forget we ever met."
Stik chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, really? And how do you plan to make me forget?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I initiated the mind-erasing process, focusing all my energy on wiping his memory. But as I delved into his mind, I encountered an unexpected resistance. It was as if a barrier had been erected, one that I couldn't penetrate.

I tried again, concentrating harder, but the result was the same. Stik's mind remained untouched by my efforts. He watched me with a bemused expression, clearly aware of what I was attempting.

"Having trouble?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Frustration welled up inside me. "How are you doing this?"
Stik shrugged. "Some minds are just more resilient than others, I suppose. Or maybe I've just had practice."

I glared at him, unwilling to concede defeat. "This isn't over."
He laughed again, a sound that was both infuriating and strangely endearing. "Oh, I have no doubt you'll keep trying. But let me give you a piece of advice: sometimes, the mind resists what the heart truly wants to remember."

His words echoed in my mind as I left the room, unsuccessful in my mission. Stik had managed to thwart my efforts, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeper at play. Something I needed to understand.

As I reported back to Jhonnathan, I couldn't help but think about Stik's parting words. There was more to this strange, resilient individual than met the eye. And I was determined to uncover his secrets, no matter how long it took...

They decided to keep Stik captive for a few days to monitor him. Given his immunity to the mind-erasing process, Jhonnathan and our "boss" thought it prudent to observe him more closely. We needed to understand what made him different, what gave him this unique resistance.

Stik was placed in a secure room within our facility, heavily guarded and under constant surveillance. The room was bare, save for a cot in one corner and a single chair in the center. He sat calmly in the chair, his mismatched eyes scanning the room with an air of detached curiosity.

I was assigned to keep an eye on him, to report any unusual behavior or signs of resistance. As I entered the room, he greeted me with the same bemused smile.

"Back so soon?" he asked, leaning back in the chair. "I thought you'd given up on me."

I ignored his comment and took a seat across from him. "We're going to keep you here for a while, Stik. Just to make sure you don't cause any trouble."

He chuckled. "I figured as much. So, what's the plan? Are you going to try and erase my mind again?"

"Not this time," I replied. "We just want to observe you, see if there's anything we can learn from you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Learn from me? Okay; but why should I cooperate?"

"Because you don't have a choice," I said bluntly. "You're our captive now."

Stik's expression turned serious for a moment. "You know, there are worse things than being a captive. Sometimes, captivity can reveal more about the captors than the captive."
I frowned, not entirely sure what he meant. "What are you getting at?"

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "You think you're in control, but control is an illusion. You're following orders, just like me. The difference is, I choose to resist."

His words unsettled me, striking a chord deep within. For a moment, I saw a glimpse of something profound in his gaze, something that hinted at a greater understanding of our situation. But I couldn't let him get to me. I had a job to do.
"We'll see about that," I said, standing up. "For now, just stay put and behave yourself."

As I left the room, I couldn't shake the feeling that Stik knew more than he was letting on. His resilience, his calm demeanor, and his cryptic words all pointed to a deeper mystery. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to feel that monitoring him might teach us more about ourselves than about him.

Stik's personality was a perplexing enigma. On the surface, he seemed calm and collected, but his vitals told a different story. Sometimes, the monitors indicated that he was dead—no heartbeat, no breathing. Other times, they showed him as perfectly healthy. It was baffling, and it made me realize that there was far more to this individual than I had initially thought.

One day, as I was heading to the "Interrogation Room," curiosity got the better of me. I decided to use my thermal imaging to see what Stik was up to. The sight that greeted me was bewildering. He was standing in the middle of the room, apparently conversing with some sort of force that fluctuated between extremely hot and cold. The thermal readings were mostly red, indicating heat, but there was a distinct cold shape—a pentacle of a star.

The sight was both mesmerizing and unsettling. The pentacle radiated an aura that made me feel both safe and anxious at the same time. It was as if the very air around him was alive, charged with an energy I couldn't comprehend. But it seemed that Stik could sense my presence, even through the walls. As soon as I focused on him, he made the force disappear and casually sat down as if nothing had happened.

I entered the room, trying to mask my bewilderment. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" I said, attempting to keep my voice steady.

He looked up at me with that same bemused smile. "Oh, you noticed? I was just having a chat."

"With what, exactly?" I asked, not expecting a straightforward answer.

Stik shrugged. "Just... an old friend. You wouldn't understand."
"Try me," I insisted, though part of me wasn't sure I wanted to know.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as if deciding how much to reveal. "There are forces in this universe, things beyond your comprehension. I have connections, let's say, to these forces.

"Connections?" I echoed, feeling a chill run down my mechanical spine. "Like what I saw just now?"

He nodded. "Exactly. You see, I'm not just any ordinary being. There's a reason your mind-erasing techniques don't work on me."

"What reason is that?" I pressed, needing to understand.
"Let's just say," he replied cryptically, "I've made some deals, forged some bonds that transcend the physical world."

I felt a mix of frustration and fascination. Stik was like a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit together, yet formed an intriguing picture. His calm demeanor, his strange vitals, the mysterious forces he communicated with—all of it suggested a depth and complexity that defied easy explanation.

"One day, you might understand," Stik said softly, almost kindly. "Or maybe you won't. But know this: there's more to reality than what you can see and measure. Sometimes, the most important things are the ones you can't."

With that, he fell silent, leaving me with more questions than answers. I realized that keeping him captive, monitoring him, might not yield the straightforward results our "boss" was hoping for. Stik was an anomaly, a being whose true nature was shrouded in mystery. And as much as I was supposed to control and interrogate him, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was the one teaching me, showing me glimpses of a reality far beyond my understanding.

Chapter 8

Journal of Jhonnie Harringson age 7-18

Date: August 12, 3057

Today is my first day at the Children Adoption Facility (CAF) in Stikingdere. It's so big and kinda scary. A nice lady gave me this notebook. She said it's for my thoughts and drawings. I don't know why she gave it to me, but I think it's cool.
The CAF is full of kids. Some look like me, and some are Stikingderion with horns and cool eyes. It's like a big mix of different kids from everywhere.

Date: August 13, 3057

I keep thinking about the lady who gave me this notebook. She seemed nice. Who was she? Why did she give me this? Maybe I'll find out one day. I made a new friend today. His name is Red. He's really fun and smart. We explored the place and met other kids. Red makes me feel happy and not so scared.

Date: August 20, 3057

It's been a week since I got here. I'm starting to feel better. Red and I do everything together. We even started making little books for the other kids with stories and drawings.
We found a special place called the Entity Hallway. It's always quiet there. Red and I hang out there a lot. It's our secret spot. It's calm and nice.

Date: September 5, 3057

Red and I made books for the other kids today. We want them to have something special when they get adopted. It's a lot of work, but it's fun. I love drawing and making stories.
I drew a picture of the Entity Hallway. It's long and kinda dark, but it's peaceful. It's our favorite place to talk and play.

Date: October 1, 3057

Today was sad. One of the kids, Lyle, was really upset because his friend got adopted. Red and I tried to cheer him up. I know what it feels like to miss someone. I drew a picture of Lyle and his friend to remember them. When things get hard, I like to go to the Entity Hallway with Red. It's our safe place where we can feel better.

Date: November 10, 3057

Today was a bit scary. One of the kids got hurt playing outside. Red and I stayed with him until the nurses came. It made me think about how important it is to take care of each other.
I drew a picture of the accident to remember to be careful. This notebook helps me feel better, even when things are tough.
I still wonder about the lady who gave it to me. I'm glad she did. This notebook is special.

Date: May 25, 3063

I'm 13 now, and things have changed a lot since I first got to the CAF. Red is still my best friend, and we've made a lot of memories together. But today was different. Today, something happened that I never thought would.

Date: May 26, 3063

Yesterday, I got caught in the Entity Hallway by a group of Staff. I thought I was safe there, but they found me. They didn't look happy. They dragged me out and told me I was going to the "HAPPY BOX."

Date: May 27, 3063

The HAPPY BOX is a weird place. It's this small room where you have to sit and be happy for 5-30 minutes. They say it's supposed to help us feel better, but it felt like torture. They played loud, cheerful music and forced me to smile. It was awful. I was in there for 20 minutes. It felt like forever. I tried to think of Red and the fun times we've had to get through it.

Date: May 28, 3063

I asked Red if he ever got caught in the Entity Hallway. He said no, but he told me to be more careful. The Staff are always watching. It's hard to believe they found our secret spot after all these years.

Date: May 30, 3063

I'm still thinking about the HAPPY BOX. It made me realize how important it is to keep our secret places secret. The Entity Hallway was special to me, and now it feels like it's been taken away.

Date: June 1, 3063

I decided to make a new secret spot with Red. We need a place where we can feel safe and be ourselves. Somewhere the Staff won't find us.

Date: June 5, 3063

Red and I found a new spot today. It's hidden behind the storage room. We made it cozy with some blankets and pillows. It's not as special as the Entity Hallway, but it's ours.

Date: June 10, 3063

I'm writing this from our new spot. It feels good to have a place again where we can be free. The HAPPY BOX was horrible, but it taught me a lot about the importance of having a safe space.

Date: October 12, 3066

I'm 16 now, and a lot has happened over the years. But today, something terrible happened to Red.

Date: October 13, 3066

Yesterday, Red got into a really bad accident while exploring the Entity Hallway on his way to the bathroom. I wasn't with him, and I feel awful about it. The Staff told me he'll be fine and that it's nothing to worry about, but I don't believe them. There were so many doctors, scientists, and guards around him. It seemed way more serious than they said.

Date: October 14, 3066

I tried to visit Red today, but they wouldn't let me see him. They said he needs to rest and that it's better for him to be alone. I feel so helpless. I keep thinking about all the times we explored together, all the secret spots we found. Now, it feels like everything is falling apart.

Date: October 15, 3066

I overheard some Staff talking about Red's condition. They didn't know I was listening. They said something about strange readings and how they've never seen anything like it before. What does that mean? What happened to Red?

Date: October 16, 3066

I can't sleep. I keep having nightmares about Red being taken away by the Staff and never coming back. I wish they would tell me the truth. I need to know what's really going on.

Date: October 17, 3066

Today, I saw one of the doctors who was with Red. I asked him straight up what was happening, but he just looked at me and said it's not my concern. How can they say that? Red is my best friend. He's like a brother to me.

Date: October 18, 3066

I found a way to sneak into the medical wing. I have to see Red. I have to know if he's okay. I'm going tonight.

Date: October 19, 3066

I saw him. Red was hooked up to all these machines, and he looked so pale. He was unconscious, but I held his hand and told him I was there. I promised him I'd find out what happened and make sure he's okay. The doctors found me and threw me out, but I don't care. I had to see him.

Date: October 20, 3066

I don't know what to do. I feel so lost without Red. The Staff keeps saying he'll be fine, but I don't trust them. I need to find out the truth. I need to help my friend. His face was covered with a giant metal thingy so I couldn't see his face.

Date: April 4, 3068

It's been so long since I've seen Red. We're both 18 now, but we look so different. When I finally got to see him today, it was like looking at a stranger. His hand is... different, claw-like almost, and he has a tail and horns. And me? I've changed too. I have this weird furry coat on my back, and a tail like Red's. And I can't seem to stop smiling, even when I don't feel happy.

Date: April 5, 3068

Red's face is covered in bandages now. I could only see his eyes peeking through a little slit between the bandaging. It breaks my heart to see him like this. What happened to him? What did they do to him? I need to find out the truth.

Date: April 6, 3068

I tried to ask the Staff about Red's condition, but they just brushed me off like they always do. They said it's confidential and none of my business. But Red is my best friend. He's like a brother to me. I won't rest until I know what happened to him.

Date: April 7, 3068

I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Red's bandaged face, and I hear his voice calling out to me. I feel so helpless, like there's nothing I can do to help him. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to uncover the truth, no matter what it takes.

Date: April 8, 3068

I'm going to try to sneak into the medical wing again tomorrow. Maybe I can find some answers there. I have to do something. I can't just sit around and wait while Red suffers. He needs me, and I won't let him down.

Date: April 10, 3068

Red came back today. But he's not the same Red I remember. His face... it's like a black hole, so dark and scary. And half of it is still covered in bandages. I could see the hurt in his eyes when the other kids made fun of him. They don't understand what he's been through. They don't know the pain he's endured. But I do. And I won't let them hurt him anymore.

Date: April 11, 3068

I tried talking to Red today, but he wouldn't even look at me. He just sat there, staring at the ground, lost in his own thoughts. I could feel the distance between us, like a wall that I couldn't break through. It hurts to see him like this, so broken and alone.

Date: April 12, 3068

I won't give up on Red. I'll find a way to reach him, to let him know that he's not alone. He's my friend, my brother, and I'll always be there for him, no matter what.

Date: May 15, 3068

Today, Red and I finally left the CAF. It feels strange to be out in the world again, to have the freedom to make our own choices. But it's also exciting. We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I can't wait to see what the future holds.

Date: May 16, 3068

I found Red in the storage space of our hideout today, working on something. When I asked him what it was, he showed me a mask. A Day of Happiness Mask. My heart sank at the sight of it. The Day of Happiness is a day when there are no rules, no laws, no consequences. People can do whatever they want, without fear of punishment. It's a day of chaos and destruction, and I can't bear the thought of Red being a part of it.

Date: May 17, 3068

I tried to talk to Red about the mask today, but he wouldn't listen. He said that he needed to do this, that he needed to feel alive again. But I'm afraid that wearing that mask will only bring him more pain, more suffering. I don't know what to do.

Date: May 18, 3068

I won't let Red go through with this. I'll do whatever it takes to stop him from wearing that mask, even if it means risking our friendship. He means too much to me to let him throw his life away like this.

Date: May 19, 3068

I confronted Red about the mask today, and things got heated. He accused me of trying to control him, of not understanding what he's been through. But I can't stand by and watch him destroy himself. I have to find a way to convince him to let go of that mask, before it's too late.

Date: May 20, 3068

I don't know what to do anymore. Red won't listen to reason, and I'm running out of time. The Day of Happiness is approaching, and I'm afraid of what will happen if Red goes through with his plan. I have to find a way to stop him, before it's too late.

Date: September 11, 3068

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CHAPTER 9

It was an ordinary day in Stikingdere, and I found myself wandering through the bustling aisles of the mini market. The familiar hum of voices and the clatter of goods being restocked provided a comforting backdrop as I strolled through the narrow paths between the stalls. I wasn't really looking for anything specific, just browsing, letting my eyes drift over the array of colorful items on display.

My footsteps echoed softly against the tiled floor as I moved past shelves stocked with an eclectic mix of goods. There were rows of fresh produce, their vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the muted tones of the packaged goods. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the various other smells of the market.

I paused occasionally to examine something that caught my interest – a peculiar-looking fruit here, an intricately designed trinket there. I had no intention of buying anything; it was more about the experience of being out and about, observing the world around me. My eyes flicked to the various faces of the market-goers, some familiar, others strangers, all going about their daily routines.

As I ventured deeper into the market, my mind began to drift to the plan I had been formulating for weeks. The Day of Happiness was approaching, and with it, the chance to execute a scheme that had been simmering in my thoughts. The Happy Mask I had been crafting was nearly complete, a symbol of the freedom and chaos that day would bring.

The unease I felt earlier returned, but this time it was different – it was anticipation. The thought of what I could achieve on that day, the opportunities it presented, made my heart race. I shook off the feeling, focusing instead on the meticulous details of my plan. Every step had to be perfect, every move calculated.

I continued my aimless exploration, but my thoughts were no longer on the market or its wares. Instead, I was consumed by the vision of what was to come, the actions I would take, and the new reality I hoped to shape on the Day of Happiness.