A darkness.
Something that doesn't exist in reality. A simple null-ness in vibrancy that lacks objective meaning.
Instead, a place where thoughts drifted without direction and memories existed as scattered fragments floating though an endless void.
For a time there was nothing— then something moved. A single memory surfaced.
A sky clear blue.
I froze. The few blues he has seen would be the plasma weaponry that set ablaze in the chamber.
Yet a real sky— not filtered through pollution, obscured by smog, or projected upon a hive dome.
Another fragment followed soon after. This time, grass beneath his feet. Wind that billowed across his skin, lungs unthreatened by unknown toxins. Birds, the first of its kind— the first un-dreadful thing to look at. It sang instead of screamed. Fluttered wings added depth to the scenery, untainted by graffities or flying rounds. Then a shift to the smell of rain.
Mind halted, frozen into subtle recognition, like knowing a topic at the tip of your tongue but unable to express its name. The memory struck him harder than any weapon. For a moment, he could not understand why— still— soon realization followed— for rain wasn't supposed to smell like that.
The thought felt absurd but at the same time it wasn't.
More memories came to the surface. A screen glowed, extremely late nights, books, games, stories; entire worlds contained within pages and pixels. Names and voices he had forgotten. A life he had forgotten.
Earth... the word appeared without warning. Not Terra nor— god forbid— Holy terra— Earth. A distinction that felt more than important. It defined my origin.
Pain followed soon after. Thousands of fractured recollections crashed together. Contents that contained years— decades— an entire lifetime returning at once.
I gasped— or thought I did. My consciousness surged upward.
My eyes snapped open. White light burned my vision, like a brand that burned my retina. Without thinking, I tried to move. All I felt was resistance, my gaze saw metal restrains on my wrist in addition to a pressure around my ankle. I felt cold steel on my back not covered by my black tank top.
'A firefight on one end, woke up to a cold chair on another— restrained of all things. Curse my rotten luck,' my mind hissed.
Knowing I can't move, I focused on what I could do. Slowly, my vision focused. A small room, concrete— or whatever is equivalent— a metal table plus a single door and a single light overhead.
'No windows, decorations, and most importantly: escapes routes.'
I visually tested the door again. Heavy by the looks— more than likely reinforced. A probable electronic lock, too.
'Wonderful,' I mused, 'at least my kidnappers believed in overengineering.'
I gazed upwards, toward the light. I closed my eyes to a realization that I find kind of hard to believe knowing what I know now: I'm in an interrogation room. Years of movies, games, novels, and far too many late-night internet rabbit holes had prepared me for this exact moment.
Granted, those stories usually involved spies, terrorist, or people significantly more qualified than me.
I exhaled slowly, "could be worse," I paused, "...actually, no. this is pretty bad."
My own voice sounded strange. I hadn't cared before. Back then my memories had been fractured, scattered pieces stitched together into something functional. A link had been me, but only partially. A man built from incomplete information, like a clone that didn't have it's previous data cloned with it.
Now? — something had changed. The voice in my head felt familiar— yet in contradiction— unfamiliar at the same time. A feeling becoming too familiar at an alarming rate.
Earth surfaced again— not the planet; to be clear— the place. My home. It settled heavily in me. I remembered things now. The movies and games I've entertained myself. Arguments over meaningless nonsense. I had entire nights spend awake because one more chapter somehow became twenty.
I had friends, I had family. A world where nobody carried plasma weapons and giant monsters weren't considered a workplace hazard. A world where being tied to a chair in a concrete room would have been the worst thing that happened all year.
A laugh almost escaped me at the thought; instead I shook my head, "yeah... definitely not Kansas anymore."
The reference arrived naturally. I froze in knowing that it did. I knew what it meant... where it came from... why the humor was connecting— that shouldn't have been remarkable but somehow it was.
The memories no longer felt distant. They were mine once, they are mine again. Every embarrassing moment, every failure. The victories I partook in, every obsession I got hooked in.
One would've felt comfortable at the thought of being whole again.
I wasn't— because alongside those memories sat others. They were different memories— older— not complete enough to understand.
Fragments of steel, war, a throne, and endless stars.
The sensation of commanding armies. Certainties that entire world could burn because of a single decision. They were muted, distant compared to Earth. Buried beneath layers of locked doors. Still, they existed. The fact that I held fragments meant they were mine, that alone had given me enough content. Still, kind of bothered me far more than the restraints.
A faint hum pulled my attention away. My eyes shifted down from the light and straightforward— no longer clouded by the daydream in my head.
Something lingered at the edge of perception. Like a computer booting somewhere behind my eyes. Not visible— not yet— it waited like it was loading.
I frowned.
The old system was gone... I could feel its absence. No inventory prompts— all the shit I sto— ahem— relocated was gone. No evolution notices, nothing on skills and passives any more either. No cheerful announcements informing me that I had acquired another questionable exploit.
Just silence.
For several seconds, nothing happened. Then—
A dull metallic click echoed from the far side of the room.
'The door—'
My thoughts halted instantly. The sound of footsteps followed. They were measured— confident— not the hurried movement of a guard nor the cautious approach of somebody afraid. They belonged to someone who fully expected to be the most dangerous thing in the room.
The lock disengaged and the heavy door swung inward. Light from the corridor spilled across the floor.
A woman entered. She was tall, a head above average women. She wore a black coat that draped down— not quite touching the ground. Not getting caught on her heels either. Authority practically dripped from every movement. She wasn't armored the way normal people were armed.
No— like a predator carried their teeth— she carried weapons that were ready to latch on to any prey.
The sword caught my attention first. The plasma pistol after. Shortly, the eyes— cold and sharp. The kind of eyes that looked at a person and immediately started calculating how much trouble they'd be to bury.
The door shut behind her with a solid thunk.
No one else entered with her. No backup— simply her. That told me enough things: either she was incredibly confident—
— or everyone else was standing outside the room with guns aimed at the walls.
In all honesty: could've been both.
She stopped across from me.
Neither of us spoke, allowed the silence to stretch. Judgement... evaluation... the waiting game...
I decided I hated it first, "so..."
My voice echoed lightly through the room.
I glanced down at the restraints, then back up, "I usually at least get dinner before the kidnapping."
Nothing, not even a blink.
'Tough crowd,' I signed, "alright. Worth a shot."
The woman continued to stare. Not in anger. No annoyance flash across her face. Simply... evaluating. Like a scientist examining a particularly strange specimen.
I disliked that immediately.
Silence stretched.
Then she finally spoke. The words should have been nonsense but they weren't.
I understood every syllable perfectly, "State your name."
"Numen."
The answer left my mouth before I could stop it. A insignificant part of me froze. The language... something about the language felt wrong. Not in her voice or the accent, but to the words themselves.
I understood them completely. Yet I was suddenly aware that they weren't English. At least... I didn't think they were.
The realization hit like a misplaced puzzle piece. I knew English— remembered English— from Earth— from Books, games, movies— entire conversations—
— and yet... somehow I also understood her.
No effort, no delay, no even any translation. The discrepancy made my head hurt.
The woman noticed, of course she would. Nothing escaped that kind of scrutiny.
"Your name is Numen?"
I blinked, "probably."
One eyebrow rose, "probably?"
"Look, lady, I woke up tied to a chair after getting caught in your firefight with a skyscraper-sized nightmare monster."
I gestured weakly with my bound hands, "my standards for certainty are currently very low."
That gave no reaction, which was impressive considering I would've at least smirked.
She folded her hands atop the table.
"Where were you born?"
'Ah... one of those conversations.'
I opened my mouth... then stopped. Earth, the answer appeared instantly. Simple, obvious, and absolute.
The problem was that every instinct I possessed suddenly screamed that saying that five letter word aloud would create far more problems than it solved.
— so I opted instead to settle on the truth,
"I have absolutely no idea."
For the first time, the woman's expression shifted. Not by much, just enough for me to notice. Which meant my answer had probably been the wrong one.
Again, silence stretched between us. She studied me as I studied her.
Long black coat. An expensive armor beneath it. A sword hung at her side that looked far too decorative to be practical. Then again, I'd recently watched a man get cut in half by a glowing chainsaw sword in one of my memory fragments—
— my standards had changed.
"You expect me to believe that?" she asked.
"Depends..."
"One what?"
"How convincing I sound."
Her stare got colder.
'interesting,' I mused.
Before I could continue digging that hole—
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
MONARCH FRAMEWORK
Initialization Complete
Core Systems Online
User Authentication: Confirmed
Authority: Monarch
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
I blink and the text vanished.
"..."
'Nope— still insane— go it.'
The woman noticed, "what did you just see?"
That immediately got my attention, "what makes you think I saw something?"
"You looked away."
"People do that."
"Not during interrogations."
"Maybe I'm new"
She did not look too amused.
'Tough crowd,' I thought, mildly entertained.
Again, a faint pulse passed through my skull.
More text appeared:
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
Warning.
Subject currently undergoing
identity reconstruction.
Memory Integrity:
0.7%
Name Access:
Restricted
Lineage Access:
Restricted
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
I closed my eyes, 'of course... of course there was a system.'
Because waking up inside a nightmare future ruled by a religious lunatics apparently wasn't enough—
— now I had menus...
Wonderful
I opened my eyes. The woman hadn't moved. Somehow that was more intimidating... for any one else.
"Sorry," I struck up.
"why?" she replied back with an inquiry.
"I was having an existential crisis."
Her stare remained perfectly neutral.
"..."
"..."
"Is that common?" she finally asked.
"Recently? Extremely."
For the first time I thought I saw the smallest twitch near her eye. Not by amusement. Nothing on her face that spelled in disbelief. But in confusion instead.
I counted that as a victory.
The woman stepped closer.
"What is your name?"
The same question hit harder than expected now, because I knew the answer— didn't I?
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Images surfaced instead. Of blue sky... of rain, grass... of a city. A screen glowed late into the night.
A name—
Gone.
Vanished before I could grasp it.
Pain stabbed through my skull.
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
SEALED RECORD DETECTED
True Name: [RESTRICTED]
Access Level Required: Monarch
Current Authority: Insufficient
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
"..."
My smile slowly returned. Mostly because the alternative was screaming.
"That's awkward."
The woman frowned, "what is?"
"I think I forgot my name..."
That answer finally earned a visible reaction; and for the first time since entering the room— I realized she was becoming concerned. The kind of concern people reserved for unstable explosives.
Her eyes narrowed, "you forgot your name."
"I think so," I replied half heartedly.
"You think so."
"Well, I'm not exactly an expert on memory loss."
The joke died immediately to silence.
No reaction. She didn't blink, didn't sigh... the woman simply stared. No doubt evaluating, dissecting, and cataloguing. The sensation reminded me of being placed under microscope.
"State your name."
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Not because I didn't want to answer— but I couldn't. The realization hit harder the second time. I knew there should be an answer. I know I'm not nameless; a single word— not having a last name will do to. But instead of getting something... I got nothing. An empty space. A blank page where an identify should have been.
My smile weakened... she noticed— of course she did.
"Try again," there wasn't a hint of patience in her voice.
It wasn't a request— she had been doing that. This... was an order.
I tried anyway... nothing.
Then—
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
SEALED RECORD DETECTED
True Name:
[RESTRICTED]
Access Level:
Monarch
Current Authority:
Insufficient
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
"..."
My eye twitched.
The woman leaned forward slightly, over the table were her left palm rested on. The other now rested on her hip. It was like a predator sensing movement.
"What happened."
"Nothing—"
"Incorrect," The response came instantly— without hesitation and doubt.
The certainty behind it was unsettling, "you reacted."
I stare at her... and she stared back. I then knew or understood how confessions happened. Not because people were tortured... maybe— but because some people looked at you long enough that lying felt inconvenient.
"I remembered something."
"What."
"That I still don't know my name."
The woman's expression remained unchanged, which somehow felt worse than anger.
"You are aware of your situation."
That a wasn't a question, more of a statement.
I shrugged as much as the restraints allowed, "kidnapped. Restrained. Interrogated."
A pause, "not exactly subtle."
"You were not kidnapped," she clarified. The correction came immediately, "you were detained under Inquisitorial Authority."
The room felt colder with the way she went about saying it. Not in arrogance... but a fact. Like gravity explaining itself.
I decided not to ask what that meant. Mostly because I suspected the answer would be unpleasant.
The woman continued, "You were discovered beneath the restricted infrastructure. You possess no known Identity— no records— no affiliations— and no documented existence."
Each word landed like a hammer strike. Measured, controlled, and final.
"An unknown entity demonstrated extreme hostility toward Imperial Personnel.
I winced, that was a bad sign, "it ceased hostilities."
A worse sign, "it then knelt."
There it was. The room seemed quieter afterwards.
I rubbed the back of my head against the chair, "see, that's the part everyone keeps bringing up."
The woman's eyes narrowed, "because it is important."
"Fair."
"What was it."
"No idea."
"What was it."
"No clue."
Her gaze hardened, a pressure amounted in the room stronger than previously felt. Nothing physical— but a psychological pressure. The pressure of someone accustomed to obedience. Someone used to asking question and receiving answer.
"What was it."
I laughed once— short— and tired, "lady, I'm currently losing a fight against remembering my own name"
My restraints rattled lightly as I lifted my hands, "I think we're skipping a few chapters."
No amusement, no reaction... just that stare.
Then—
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
MONARCH FRAMEWORK
Synchronization:
4%
Identity Recovery:
0.3%
Current Objective:
SURVIVE INTERROGATION
▒░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒░░▒
"..."
I closed my eyes, 'of course. Of course that was an objective.'
"What."
My eye opened, met with the woman's' eyes observing me again.
Naturally.
Apparently zoning out in the middle of an interrogation was suspicious behavior, "nothing."
"That is the third time you have responded to something that is not present," a silent pressure surged from within her, something almost natural given the situation.
That wasn't ideal. I considered several responses... all of them were terrible.
Eventually I settle on honesty.
"Look," I sighed, "I know this sounds insane."
The woman remained silent— encouragingly silent. The sort of silence that implied she was already expecting insanity.
"So that's not helping."
For the first time since meeting, I— for the briefest fraction of a second— saw uncertainty. Not fear or confusion— uncertainty.
Because she had spent the entire conversation looking for lies; and she was starting to realize she wasn't finding any.
Which was somehow making me more suspicious.
◃───────────▹
Three levels above the detention block, a red warning rune flashed once across a cogitator screen.
Authorization Request:
Prisoner 771-Alpha
Status:
Unclassified
Threat Assessment:
Unknown
Recommended Action:
Termination
The request sat unanswered for exactly six seconds before somebody approved it.
No name appeared, no seal, nothing that identified any signature. Only a single confirmation code.
EXECUTION AUTHORIZED
Elsewhere within the facility, a locker disengaged with a metallic click. A long-las rifle rested inside, dormant and immaculate. Its machine spirit stirred as power flowed through newly awakened circuitry.
An assassin removed it without hesitation. No orders were spoken, it was unnecessary. Unknowns were dangerous, unknowns beneath the hive were worse, unknowns that cause monsters to kneel— were unacceptable.
The facility continued operating normally.
Alarms remained silent, and guards remained unaware. Several corridors away from Numen's cell— someone has already begun walking toward him.