I decided to walk back to Shadowtask HQ tonight, helmet in hand. The bike is sitting just a few blocks away, ready to roar, ready to make its way back to me once I reach Shadowtask HQ. Something about the silence of walking felt right. Maybe I needed time to process everything. Or maybe I’m just avoiding the others. Caine’s questions. Clova’s concerned glances. Data’s relentless need for answers. It’s a lot.
The city feels different on foot. The hum of neon lights above, the muted chatter of people tucked away in warm restaurants, the click of my boots on the damp pavement—it all feels more real somehow. Or maybe I feel less real, and this is the world reminding me where I belong.
I found myself wandering through Chinatown. I didn’t plan it, but the red lanterns above the streets pulled me in like they had a story to tell. The air smelled of soy sauce and roasted duck, rich and familiar, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if that familiarity was mine or someone else’s. Everything in my life seems to blur that line now.
Then I saw it—Caine’s favourite Chinese restaurant. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I’ve overheard him mention it a couple of times, usually between sarcastic remarks and casual insults. It’s a hole-in-the-wall place, the kind of spot that locals swear by but you’d never give a second glance unless someone dragged you there. The windows were fogged up from the heat inside, and I could just make out the shapes of cooks moving like clockwork in the kitchen. The neon sign above the door flickered weakly, half its letters dimmed by years of neglect. It feels oddly fitting for Caine—rough around the edges but with something authentic underneath.
I thought about going in. Just for a minute. Just to feel something normal. Maybe I'd have liked the Shoyu ramen Caine always talks about. But I couldn’t. My mind was too preoccupied to relax. So I stood there, outside in the cold, staring through the foggy glass like a ghost haunting someone else’s life.
I walked on.
The streets thinned out as I got closer to STHQ. The buzz of Chinatown faded behind me, replaced by the steady hum of the city. I caught my reflection in a puddle as I waited for a crosswalk light to change. The rain rippled through the image, fracturing it into a thousand pieces, and for a second, I couldn’t tell if it was me or someone else staring back.
Who am I?
It’s a question that should feel simple, like a name or a title or a memory you pull from the back of your mind without thinking. But for me, it’s like holding sand in my hands—the tighter I try to grip it, the faster it slips away.
And then there’s the android. The memory of its cold, unrelenting orange eyes still makes my chest tighten. It wasn’t just the fight that shook me—it was what came after. I don’t know how to explain it, but I shouldn’t have survived that. The way I caught its punch, the strength I felt coursing through me, the heat in my chest like a fuse burning toward some invisible explosion—it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t me. Or maybe it was me, and I just don’t know what I’m capable of yet. Either way, it scares the hell out of me.
Clova will want answers. Data will want to analyse every detail. Caine will probably just shrug and say, “Told you there’s more to you.” But none of them were there. None of them saw the way it pulled back, the way it hesitated like it... feared me.
And then there’s Alice. Her face when she saw me. The fear, the anger, the pain. She didn’t know me. Or at least, she didn’t recognize who I’ve become. How is it that she felt so real to me, but I was just a stranger to her? And her son...
I keep playing out the possibilities in my head. Does he know who I am? Did Alice tell him something after I left? And if he does reach out, what the hell am I supposed to say? Every question feels like another crack in the foundation, like I’m building a house on a fault line and one wrong move will bring it all crashing down.
My helmet chimed. Clova’s voice broke the quiet, soft but insistent. “You heading back soon? We need to talk about what happened out there.”
I hesitated. “I’m close.”
“Good,” she said, her tone softening. “You okay?”
Am I? I didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”
"Okay, see you soon."
The line went dead.
I don’t know what I’m going to say to them when I get back. I don’t even know what I’m going to write when I finish this entry. But I do know this: I’m not going to find answers standing still. So I’ll keep walking, even if I don’t know where it’ll take me.
One foot in front of the other. Breathe.
That’s all I can do for now.
