Robinson was speeding down the tunnel, breathing heavily, hands slick with sweat gripping the steering wheel.
From the back of the car, a sharp "Beep… Beep… Beep…" began to accelerate. Something inside the package was activating.
"This isn't just a delivery..." he muttered, eyes narrowing.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught sight of a small red blinking light on the box—not green.
"Oh hell no—"
Without thinking, he slammed the brakes. The tires screeched as the car skidded to a stop.
Robinson threw the door open and jumped out, stumbling and dragging himself away from the vehicle as fast as he could.
3… 2… 1…
BOOM!!!
A violent explosion ripped through the night—fire and metal erupted into the air.
The car was blown sky-high, pieces slamming into the tunnel walls.
Robinson's body was launched several feet before crashing hard onto the pavement.
Dust choked the air. The explosion echoed for blocks.
He lay there, barely conscious, blood streaking down his forehead, parts of his jacket burned, breathing shallow.
Eyes half-open, he tried to lift his head… but couldn't.
His lips moved faintly—
"Ma… Zashiro…"
—and then everything went dark.
Ambulances pulled in with sirens blaring. EMTs shouted over each other, rushing with stretchers.
Zashiro arrived behind the ambulance, covered in soot and ash, clutching Robinson's half-burned jacket.
A nurse shouted,
"Male teen, partial burns, possible concussion, internal trauma. Prep the OR now!"
Robinson was wheeled inside.
Marcus and his girlfriend arrived shortly after.
Zashiro stood silently at the ER viewing window, face unreadable.
"That wasn't a package," he said coldly.
"That was a warning. Zero Divide isn't gone… not yet."
Marcus clenched his fists.
"If they even think about touching Robinson again… we burn everything they've got."
The ER doors burst open. Paul and Maya rushed in, worry etched deep into their faces.
Maya held Paul's hand tightly, barely able to breathe.
Moments later — the operating room door opened.
A doctor stepped out, pulling off his mask. His expression was serious.
> Doctor:
"The surgery went well. But… there's something else."
Paul stiffened. Maya gripped her chest, fear creeping up her spine.
> Doctor (looking each of them in the eye):
"Robinson has suffered a significant head trauma. For now… he's experiencing amnesia. He might not remember key people, events—even emotions."
Silence.
Paul, Maya, and Marcus looked at each other, stunned.
Outside the room, Zashiro stood against the wall, staring at the ground.
INSIDE THE ROOM Robinson lay motionless, bandaged and pale.
His chest rose and fell with the help of a breathing machine.
Paul quietly sat next to the bed. Maya reached for her son's hand, tears streaming down her face.
Marcus stood behind them, tense and silent.
OUTSIDE IN THE HALLWAY Footsteps echoed.
Daryl and Cassandra arrived, their faces drawn with concern.
Zashiro didn't move. He glanced at them once, then turned back to stare at the floor.
His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets.
> Daryl (stepping closer, voice low and sharp):
"This… all of this… is partly on you, Shiro. You know that, right?"
Zashiro looked up slowly, his eyes heavy with guilt.
But his tone stayed calm.
> Zashiro:
"He made the call. But I'm not letting him crash alone."
Cassandra walked forward, her voice tight.
> Cassandra:
"Will he… be the same again?"
Zashiro shook his head slowly, eyes still locked on the hospital room door.
> "We don't know. But one thing's clear—someone's still after him. And this isn't over."
Daryl looked down, jaw clenched.
Daryl
"If he doesn't remember us… you think he'll still trust you?"
Zashiro didn't answer.
INSIDE THE ROOM INSIDE THE ROOM
Paul gently placed a hand on Maya's shoulder.
> Paul:
"We'll figure this out… whatever it takes."
Maya, still holding Robinson's hand, whispered through tears:
> Maya:
"I just want my son back…"
Daryl and Cassandra quietly pushed open the door.
Inside, the room was dimly lit and tense with silence.
Paul stood in the corner. Maya sat beside the bed, holding Robinson's unconscious hand.
Marcus and his girlfriend leaned near the window, watching closely.
As Cassandra stepped in, Paul turned sharply, his eyes alert.
Maya glanced up in surprise.
Marcus's girlfriend leaned in and whispered something.
Marcus glanced sideways at Cassandra and muttered under his breath,
"Who's this girl? Friend or trouble?"
Before anyone could answer—Robinson suddenly stirred.
His eyes snapped open wide. His chest rose sharply, gasping like he was waking from a nightmare.
Everyone tensed. Maya stood up, alarmed.
Robinson shot upright and yanked the IV from his wrist. Blood dripped down.
His eyes darted around the room. Panic. Confusion.
He looked at Paul, then Marcus, then Maya, Cassandra, and finally Daryl.
"Where… where am I?"
"Who are you people?!"
Maya stepped forward, tears forming in her eyes.
"Sweetheart… it's me. Your mom. You're safe now."
Robinson stared at her like she was a stranger.
His breathing got heavier.
"Wait—who's Robinson? That's not me… I don't—"
Daryl stepped forward, trying to calm him.
"Bro, it's me. Daryl. We're best friends. You're always trash-talking my car, remember?"
Robinson looked completely lost.
His grip tightened on the hospital blanket.
Paul's jaw tensed. Marcus looked down and muttered,
"This is worse than we thought."
From the doorway, Zashiro appeared silently.
He stared at Robinson, expression unreadable.
Cassandra stepped forward slowly, voice barely a whisper.
"Do you… remember me?"
Robinson looked at her for a long moment.
No recognition in his face.
"I don't know any of you..."
Maya held his hand tightly. Paul stood behind her, his face unreadable.
Cassandra turned her face away, quickly wiping the tear that fell from her eye.
Zashiro glanced at Marcus.
"They didn't just steal his memories… they took half his soul."
Marcus exhaled heavily.
"Then we help him take it back."
HOSPITAL HALLWAY, MOMENTS LATER
Paul stood in the hallway, back against the wall. His eyes were fixed on the door to Robinson's room.
His phone buzzed.
He answered without checking the screen.
"Yeah?"
A deep, commanding voice came through.
"I heard Robinson made it. But he's not the same anymore."
It was Maya's father—Robinson's grandfather.
Paul sighed.
"He's got amnesia. Doesn't remember anyone. Not even Maya."
"Then it's time," the voice said firmly.
"I've prepared the documents. We process his school transfer immediately."
Paul frowned.
"Transfer? Now?"
"The longer he stays there, the deeper he'll be pulled into this mess. He's already been hurt. This is our chance to get him out completely."
Paul went quiet, then said softly,
"I'm not sure that's the right move. He still needs time to recover. And I know Robinson... some part of him isn't ready to walk away."
Robinson's grandfather let out a low sigh.
"There are only two options, Paul. We make the move now—or wait until he gets completely destroyed in whatever game you've dragged him into."
Paul clenched his fist at his side, trying to steady his thoughts.
"I'll think about it."
"Don't take too long. The paperwork is in your email. All it needs is a signature."
Click. The call ended.
Paul lowered the phone slowly, staring blankly at the floor. His mind spun—torn between his instincts as a father and the weight of unfinished history.
Behind the hospital door, Robinson sat silently on the bed, still staring up at the ceiling. Inside him, a war was brewing—and time was running out.