Right after Vicky collapses.
There was no sound—only the low hum of nothingness.
Darkness pressed around her like wet velvet. Not cold. Not warm. Just… empty.
Then, a flicker.
A voice.
"Vicky…?"
No, not that name. That wasn't her name.
"Agent Paige, do you copy?"
Suddenly, light. Not in the sky—but behind her eyes. Bright flashes. Faces. Screams. A little boy crying. A woman gasping. Blood. Running feet. A silver syringe.
The shadows pulsed with sound.
"She's dangerous—shut it down!"
"I love you…"
"Vicky—please wake up!"
Her head throbbed as fractured images raced by. A red ballroom. A rooftop. A man—tall, familiar—offering his hand.
"You promised not to forget me…"
She reached out. His face was a blur. It could've been Nathan. It could've been Necro. It could've been… no one.
"I didn't forget…" she whispered back into the dark.
But the memories didn't care. They spun around her like shattered glass in a hurricane.
"You created the serum. You erased yourself."
"It was the only way…"
"You were never meant to love. You were made to destroy."
"No—I was made to protect."
The darkness cracked.
And for a moment, she saw her own reflection: blood on her hands, tears in her eyes, fire burning in her breath.
Then—
Silence.
And a small voice—childlike, afraid, hers:
"Where is my family?"