It’s been a couple of hours since the chaos between Caine and Locke erupted. After the fight, Clova headed to her lab to tend to Caine, who, as it turns out, suffered a mild concussion. Watching those two go at it, it’s clear why they’re tasked with "taking care of business," as Caine puts it. One of them is absurdly agile with a shape-shifting bionic arm, while the other is built like a tank wielding a baseball bat that fires projectiles—not exactly the kind of people you’d want to cross. Locke, completely unfazed by the destruction they’d caused, casually strolled to the elevator and disappeared without so much as a word.
As the room settled into silence, my mind wandered to the building itself. A massive skyscraper with at least a hundred floors, sitting in the heart of a bustling city. Surely, someone else must live here, right? How could no one notice the chaos that just unfolded? I asked Data about it, curious how a group like Shadowtask, supposedly operating under the radar, could justify such blatant destruction.
Data smirked and pointed to one of his monitors. The screen displayed a live feed from the building’s only elevator. “No one gets past the lobby without my approval,” he said confidently. He explained that the entire skyscraper is off-limits to the public; the Shadowtask HQ is the only occupied area in the building. That’s why there’s a single elevator with no controls—he runs it all. It clicked: he must have been watching when I first entered the elevator earlier, explaining how it moved without any input from me.
Not long after, Clova returned from her lab. She reassured us that Caine would be fine, though he needed to rest for the night. She asked what we’d been discussing, and when I mentioned my curiosity about Locke’s whereabouts, her eyes lit up with excitement. Before Data could respond, she blurted out that Locke was in the living quarters in Zone 1 and suggested that I be shown around. “You need to start getting used to the place,” she said with a grin.
Data shrugged, spinning his chair lazily. “Sure, why not.”
We stepped into the elevator, and as it began to ascend, Clova turned to me, her expression softening. She admitted how relieved she was that they’d finally found me, explaining how tough the search had been over the past few months. She was optimistic, convinced that everything they’d gone through would be worth it once they took down Arketeq. For the first time in a long while, I felt something—sympathy. These people have asked for my help, even though I can’t remember anything about my past. How can I possibly live up to their expectations? They seem to place an extraordinary amount of faith in the anonymous figure who sent them to find me.
The elevator doors opened into Zone 1—the living quarters. The space was a large, open square with six doors, each marked with a letter from A to F, arranged in a clockwise pattern. As we stepped out, I asked Clova if this was where the team lived. She explained that each member of Shadowtask has their own private living area, each locked by a unique passcode only the occupant knows. “We spend enough time together as it is,” she said with a smirk. “Privacy is a necessity.”
She pointed out each room: Data’s was Room A, Locke’s Room B, Caine’s Room C, and hers, Room D. When we reached Room E, she stopped and turned to me, her grin widening. “Who do you think this one belongs to?” she teased. I had no idea. The answer should have been obvious, but it wasn’t. She gestured to the keypad and said, “Go ahead—enter your passcode.” Confused, I asked her what code she meant. Her grin turned mischievous. “Any number combination you like. Just don’t forget the order—it’s yours now.” With that, she walked back to the elevator. As the doors closed, she called out, “You’re one of us now.”
I stared at the keypad for a moment, unsure of how to feel. Finally, I punched in an eight-digit code, repeating it in my head to make sure I wouldn’t forget it. The door slid open, and as I stepped inside, a voice greeted me. “Welcome,” it echoed softly as the door sealed behind me. The room was incredible—a self-contained apartment with everything I’d need to live comfortably. Panoramic windows offered a breathtaking view of Solai, the city’s lights sprawling endlessly below me. The apartment even had a second floor, though I hadn’t explored it yet. For the past 45 minutes, I’ve been standing by the window, staring out at the city. There’s something about this view that clears my mind.
That strange feeling of familiarity I had when I first saw Solai from the gas station has only grown stronger since I entered this room. As I stood here, I reflected on everything I’ve documented since waking up in that motel. The fragmented memories—the blue-iced birthday cake, the gang mugging, the diamond ring in my jacket pocket—and the strange way the name “Arketeq” surfaced in my mind. Why am I here? Why do these people think I can help them? And most importantly, can I trust them?
They’ve taken a huge gamble on me, and despite my doubts, I’d be foolish not to take a chance on them in return. Maybe tomorrow I’ll show Data my journal entries. He’s good at piecing things together—after all, he found me. For now, I need to rest. That is, if I can even remember how to sleep. Fast forward to now—it's been a short while since I stepped into this room, and I've had time to let everything sink in. This place is nothing short of incredible. A self-contained apartment with panoramic views of Solai, it feels like a sanctuary perched high above the chaos below. The space is sleek and modern, complete with everything someone could need to live comfortably. It’s spread across two floors, though I haven’t ventured upstairs yet. For the past 45 minutes, I’ve been rooted to the floor, staring out at the city’s endless sprawl of lights. There’s something about this view that clears my head in a way nothing else has.
That strange feeling of familiarity I had when I first glimpsed the city’s silhouette from the gas station has only grown stronger since entering this room. It’s like I’m standing on the edge of something significant, but the pieces refuse to fall into place. My mind keeps circling back to the fragmented memories I’ve been clinging to—the blue-iced birthday cake, the gang mugging, the diamond ring tucked in my jacket pocket. Why are these fragments all I have? Why does the name of a company I don’t recall—Arketeq—echo so persistently in my thoughts?
Tonight, one question keeps surfacing above the rest: Can I trust these people?
They’ve given me refuge and a chance to unravel the mystery of my past, but I can’t ignore the magnitude of the gamble they’ve taken on me. They’re putting their faith in someone who remembers nothing—someone who might as well be a stranger to himself. Still, it would be foolish to turn away now. They’ve extended their trust, and perhaps it’s time I try to match it. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll show Data my journal entries. He has a way of piecing things together; finding me in the first place proves that much. If anyone can help me connect the dots, it’s probably him. For now, though, I need rest—or at least to try. Funny thing is, I can’t even remember the last time I actually slept.
