I spent days chasing the gas station that had been haunting my thoughts. Today, I finally found it. It’s abandoned, with an "area closed" sign hanging crookedly on the door. The pumps are dead, and the whole place feels frozen in time. As soon as I stepped onto the cracked pavement, a chill ran through me. I’ve been here before—I’m sure of it.
That familiar unease settled in my chest again, heavy and unshakable, just before the visions returned. I closed my eyes, and this time, the fragments came sharper, clearer, and more vivid than ever. My mind dragged me back into a fractured memory, replaying a moment that unfolded right here.
It started with a voice, distant but sharp:
"Rico, that’s the guy..."
Before I could react, something slammed into the back of my head. The impact sent me sprawling to the ground, my body crumpling unevenly against the concrete. My vision blurred as pain rippled through me, but I could still make out the silhouettes of four men towering over me. They didn’t wait. The first kick hit my ribs, followed by another, and another. I curled up instinctively, throwing my arms over my head as blood trickled down my face, pooling on the ground beneath me. Adrenaline and pain mixed into a sickening cocktail, keeping me conscious but barely.
When the memory faded, something else replaced it. Strange symbols and distorted images flashed in my mind, accompanied by a string of letters: "KRQETAE." They felt like pieces of a puzzle, though I couldn’t make sense of them yet. I sketched them out in my journal, hoping they’d mean something later.
One thing is clear: I need answers. And if this Rico guy is the key, the city in the distance might be my only chance to find him.
