(Hamilton, Michael's apartment building, moments after the explosion.)
Seconds after the explosion, Jack awoke with a gasp, his eyes snapping open. He found himself in the room filled with dust and debris, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke and burnt plaster. Disoriented, he sat up, his head throbbing. He looked around, bewildered. The apartment was a wreck – furniture overturned, glass shattered, the walls riddled with cracks. How… how was he still alive?
He remembered the blinding light, the deafening explosion… and then nothing. He tried to recall the events leading up to it, but his memory was hazy, fragmented. He remembered the figure, the violence, the chilling fear that had gripped him… and then… nothing.
Jack scrambled to his feet, his body aching. He stumbled towards the window, peering out into the street. The scene below was chaotic – emergency vehicles were arriving, sirens wailing, people were milling about, their faces etched with shock and concern.
He turned back to the apartment, his gaze falling upon the scene of destruction. The furniture was strewn across the room, a testament to the ferocity of the explosion. He looked for any signs of Ivy or Michael, but there was nothing. No bodies, no traces of their existence.
Just as he was about to step over the debris, a voice cut through the silence. "Quite a mess you got yourself in, Jack."
Jack whirled around, his hand instinctively reaching for the non-existent weapon at his side. Standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an amused expression, was a man he had never seen before. He was tall and lean, had piercing white glowing iris eyes, wears an elaborate black lounge and has a mischievous glint in his smile.
Jack: Who... Who are you. (He asks the man in suit, watching him cautiously as the man walks around the destroyed room with his arms behind his back.)
"Having a case of the amensia, aye" The man smiled.
Jack: (The man started taking steps towards him but gets stopped by Jack saying) Stop! Don't... take another step.
"Seriously?" The man sighed irritated before a scoff leaves his mouth, "Jack, it's me, Henry."
Jack: I... I-I don't know you, man.
Henry: Really? Well... That's a bummer. (He turned his aside and hears the Soldiers approaching up the 5th level floor they in.) The inhumans are coming. You need to come with me, Jack.
Jack: I can get myself outta here, thank you very much.
Henry: I know you can. But... you see, I need yoi to come with me because I need your help.
Jack: With what?
Henry: Finding, Revan. The man who... (He hand gestured to their surroundings before continuing,) did all of this.
Jack: Revan? So that's his name...
Henry: He's the one who caused the explosion, Jack. He's after something, or someone, in this world. And trust me, you don't want him to succeed.
Before Jack could ask more, the sounds of approaching soldiers grew louder. Henry sighed.
Henry: No time for explanations. Do you know who those soldiers are? The ones in grey?
Jack: Yeah, the Enforcers.
Henry: Good. Then you know, sticking around is a bad idea right? Listen... If you come with me, I can explain everything, and maybe, just maybe, you can help stop Revan.
Jack hesitated, glancing at the destroyed apartment and the sounds of soldiers closing in. He didn't trust this Henry, but he didn't have many options.
Jack: What's in it for me?
Henry: Freedom. Answers. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to make things right. Now, what do you say?
Just as Jack was about to answer, the inhumans burst into the room, their rifles raised.
Before Jack could react, Henry snapped his fingers. Time seemed to stop. The inhumans froze mid-stride, their weapons suspended in the air. Even the dust motes hung still.
Jack stared in disbelief. Henry casually walked past the frozen soldiers, waving his hand dismissively as he examined them. He then turned back to Jack, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Henry: Impressive, aren't they? Now, about that offer…
Jack's brows furrowed in wonder.
Jack: Who… what are you?
Henry: Let's just say I'm a friend. Now, age?
Jack: What? I'm… uh… I think I'm thirty-six. Why?
Henry: No reason.
Jack: Okay... Thanks for saving me from the explosion, by the way.
Henry: Saved you? I did no such thing, dear boy.
Jack: Seriously?
Henry: Yes. That was all Revan's doing, in a roundabout way. He can only kill those on his list, you see. Guess you weren't on it. Lucky you.
Jack looked down, a wave of relief washing over him, but then he remembered Ivy and Kyle.
Jack: What about my friends? Ivy and Kyle?
Henry: Alive. Or they will be. Revan's list, remember? Specific targets. Collateral damage isn't exactly his MO right now. Though… Michael… he was on the list. Permanently dealt with.
Jack's face fell.
Jack: Why is Revan doing all this?
Henry took a step closer.
Henry: Revan… he's sort of replaced the Grim Reaper. Reaper's gone, you see. And when there's no reaper to reap, things get… messy. Chaos. People dying when they shouldn't. The Sisters of Fate's whole plan goes haywire. Revan? He's the fix. Killing everyone who's not meant to be breathing at this exact moment.
Jack looked at Henry skeptically. Henry sighed and placed a fingertip on Jack's forehead.
Immediately, Jack inhaled sharply, his eyes rolling upwards. He felt himself falling endlessly through a swirling tunnel of white, purple, and black streaks, before being engulfed by a blinding light.
Moments later, Jack gasped, finding himself lying on a grey field under a dark grey sky, a deep green fog swirling around him. He stood up, bewildered.
Jack: Where… where am I?
Henry's voice echoed around him. "In your mind, Jack."
Jack looked around at the empty landscape. "Jesus… my mind can't be this empty."
Henry snapped his fingers, and large, glitching cracks distorted the grey landscape. "Oh, it's not. Someone's been doing some… renovations." Henry muttered something under his breath. "Zyr, you clever bugger."
Jack: Zyr? Who's that?
Henry: A man with… godly power. Your memories, Jack, they've been hidden. Replaced.
Jack: By Zyr?
Henry: Not Zyr himself, no. Someone else. Or… maybe Zyr, yes. Look, there's a possibility you know something that makes you dangerous. Why else would someone go to all this trouble? And is your name really Jack Drake? Honestly, I don't know anymore.
Jack: How do I get my memories back?
Henry: That's for you to figure out. Trust your instincts. Don't die. Trust nothing. Delve deep. Oh, and try not to BREAK anything.
Jack grimaced, clutching his head as violent visions flashed before his eyes – stabbings, explosions, bodily combustions, screams of agony echoing in his ears. He vomited, collapsing to his knees.
Jack: So many deaths… screams… How am I supposed to remember anything if you won't tell me?
Henry: Right. Learn to trust your instincts. Don't die. Trust nothing and focus on delving deep into the recesses of your mind. (He turned around to leave but turned back around.) Oh, and try not to BREAK anything.
Jack: What happens when I remember everything?
Henry: You'll know what to do. (He paused, his eyes gleaming with an almost predatory glint.) It'll take a while… a long one. You need to remember… who you truly are.
With a snap of his fingers, Henry vanished. Jack was left alone in the eerie landscape as shadowy, decaying figures emerged from the mist, their blue eyes glowing menacingly. He felt a wave of terror.
Meanwhile, back in the apartment, the soldiers stormed into the apartment, their rifles raised. They swept the room, their eyes scanning for any sign of survivors. However, they found nothing.
"Clear!" one of the soldiers reported.
The commander, Martin, a grim-faced man with piercing eyes, surveyed the scene. The apartment was a wreck, furniture overturned, glass shattered, the air thick with the smell of smoke and burnt plaster.
Martin: Search for any survivors, (he ordered.)
The soldiers began their search, meticulously examining every inch of the apartment. One of them, a young soldier with wide, frightened eyes, pulled out a small, handheld device and began scanning the room.
The young soldier's device beeped, its small screen displaying faint energy signatures. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the readings.
Young Soldier: Commander! I'm getting… three distinct traces here. Two mutant signatures, and… one that reads as Elven.
Martin, who was examining a section of the wall with scorch marks, turned sharply. "Three traces? Are you sure?"
Young Soldier: Positive, sir. Two mutants, one Elf.
Martin frowned. "But we only secured two individuals at the facility… Macher and Sinclair. What happened to the third?"
The young soldier shrugged, his gaze sweeping over the destroyed apartment. "No idea, sir. They're not here now."
Just then, another soldier called out from near what was left of the living room area.
Soldier 2: Commander! Over here!
Martin strode over to the soldier, his expression hardening. Lying amidst the debris, completely naked and unconscious, was Ivy. Her elven features were unmistakable even in her vulnerable state.
Martin's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He didn't linger, his gaze brief but intense.
Martin: Take the Elf. Now. And find them all!
He turned and left the apartment, his mind racing on finding each and everyone involved in this before his surroundings fade into a dark blur and a low resonant tone of a man reaches out to him in thought.
???: Have you found them, Martin?
The commander's eyes wide, his heart began racing, he was in fear, as he stood still in the middle of the hallway and answered his master, "Yes, master. However... only one remains alive..."
???: Only one...? Interesting... Bring them in for questioning.
Martin: W-Will do, master....
His surroundings turn back to normal and he immediately leans forward onto a nearby wall, breathing heavily in relief that the talk was over. A soldier walks up to Martin to report to him but Martin cuts him off Immediately, "Lets head back outside..." he said before he headed down the staircase in a hurry with the rest of team 1 following behind.