The sterile, white light of the West Corp Medical Bay felt like a surgical blade. It stripped away the shadows, leaving no room for the comfortable mysteries of the night. On the central diagnostic table, surrounded by a whirlwind of humming scanners and life-support tubes, lay a man who had once been a nightmare.
Mr. Puppet—Jervis—was no longer a master of strings. His bespoke charcoal suit was a blood-soaked rag. His breathing was a wet, rattling whistle, and the cybernetic ports behind his ears were weeping a foul, black conductive fluid.
"Pressure is dropping," Austin whispered, his fingers flying across the holographic interface. "His neural core is melting. Whatever they did to him, they didn't just break his mind—they harvested it."
The Dying Confession
Elizabeth, Avan, and Leon stood in a grim semi-circle. Laura stood slightly behind them, her arms wrapped tight around her chest, her knuckles white. Seeing him like this—broken, twitching, and helpless—didn't bring her joy. It brought a cold, crawling dread.
"Jervis," Elizabeth barked, her voice a low command. "Who did this? Who pulled your strings?"
The dying man’s eyes snapped open. They weren't white—they were a frantic, bloodshot red. He reached out, his trembling hand clawing at the air until he found the sleeve of Elizabeth’s jacket.
"The Cult..." he wheezed, a spray of red dotting his pale lips. "They broke the walls... they didn't want my genius. They wanted the Frequency. My beautiful, perfect rhythm..."
"Why?" Leon stepped forward, his face a mask of calm. "What do they need it for?"
Jervis let out a jagged, horrifying laugh that turned into a coughing fit. "To clear the way. To hollow out the vessel. They said... the Reboot was a mistake. They said... Dementra needs a home."
The Resurrection of a Nightmare
The name hit the room like a physical blow. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Dementra?" Avan’s lightning-blue eyes flared. "The Dark God from the records? The one Victoria killed before the timeline reset?"
Laura stepped forward, her voice small but steady. "Austin and I found the original archives in the Vault. Dementra wasn't just a villain. She was a cosmic parasite. She consumes the identity of her host until there’s nothing left but the Void. If the Cult has Puppet’s brainwashing frequency..."
"...they don't need to fight Victoria," Elizabeth finished, her face turning ashen. "They just need to erase her. They’re going to hollow her out so Dementra can move in."
"Victoria," Laura gasped, her heart hammering. "She’s at the university. She doesn't have her armor. She doesn't have the Watch in this timeline. She’s just... she’s just a student."
"Move!" Elizabeth roared. "Avan, Leon, get the transport ready! Austin, lock onto Victoria’s biometric signature. We don't lose her. Not again!"
The Abduction
Across the city, at the sun-drenched Sherwood University campus, the world was still normal. Victoria Vega was walking across the quad, a heavy stack of science textbooks cradled in her arms. She was thinking about her upcoming physics mid-term, unaware that the "V-Team" was racing toward her at Mach speeds.
She turned the corner toward the quiet, tree-lined path leading to her dorm.
"Victoria?" a soft voice called out.
She stopped. Five figures in tattered, ritualistic robes emerged from the shadows of the dormitory archway. They weren't holding weapons. One of them held a jagged, obsidian device that hummed with a familiar, sickening rhythm.
TICK. TOK. TICK. TOK.
Victoria’s books hit the pavement with a heavy thud.
"No..." she gasped, her hands flying to her head. "Not that sound..."
The cultists didn't speak. They increased the gain. The obsidian device flared with a violet-black light.
Victoria’s knees buckled. Her eyes, once fierce and full of life, began to roll upward. The vibrant silver was swallowed by a flat, milky, porcelain white. Her hands dropped to her sides, her fingers twitching in perfect synchronization with the device.
"The vessel is receptive," the lead cultist whispered, stepping close enough to touch her cheek. "Victoria... the Master calls. Your truth is the silence. Walk with us."
With a radiant, wide, and vacant smile fixed on her face, the legendary hero turned. She didn't scream. She didn't fight. She simply stepped into line behind the robes, her bare feet hitting the stone in a rhythmic, mechanical pulse as they led her toward the shadows.48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjyaLOfOWdY
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