Nero sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. His face was calm, almost unreadable, but the redness around his eyes betrayed the long hours spent wrestling with memories he couldn't fully grasp.
He remembered something. Not a full picture—no place, no date—but a fragment, a shard of clarity in the fog of his mind. A name.
And a face. A face that wouldn't leave him, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.
A soft knock at the door broke the silence.
"Nero? You up?" Drone's voice was low but carried a hint of concern.
Nero blinked away the lingering haze, quickly wiping at his eyes. "Yeah, I'm up. Come in." He paused, swallowing before adding, "I've got something to talk about."
The door creaked open and Drone stepped inside. He stopped short when he saw Nero's expression, his eyes narrowing in understanding.
"… You were crying again, huh?"
Nero said nothing at first. He stared ahead, voice steady but quiet. "I remembered the name."
Drone's eyebrows shot up. He took a careful step closer, then hesitated. "Wait—seriously? Whose name?"
"Dr. Elias Grant."
Nero's words hung in the air, weighted and sure. "I remember his face too."
For a moment, Drone looked stunned, as if the name opened a door neither had fully expected. Then he took a cautious step back, searching Nero's eyes. "That's great, man. Anything else? Like… where you met him, what he does? Family? Friend?"
Nero shook his head slowly. "No. Just the name. And the face."
Drone crouched beside him, placing a hand gently on Nero's shoulder. "Hey. That's still huge. You remembered a name and a face. You'll remember more—one step at a time, alright?"
Nero gave a small nod, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. You're right."
"Of course I'm right." Drone grinned. "Now go wash your face and come get some food. Then we'll talk to Anika about it—maybe she can help."
They ate breakfast quietly. Nero didn't say much, but his head felt lighter somehow, the weight inside shifting just enough to breathe easier.
When they finished, the two made their way through the village and stopped outside Anika's house. Drone knocked firmly.
Nothing.
He knocked again. Still no answer.
"Huh," Drone muttered. "Maybe she's not home."
"Maybe." Nero's voice was distant, his thoughts elsewhere even as he followed.
As they turned to leave, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Looking for Anika?"
It was Thom.
Drone turned quickly. "Yeah, we wanted to talk to her."
"She's out with Eli," Thom said, walking over with a relaxed pace. "Went foraging for herbs this morning."
"Oh. Right. I forgot," Drone said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Thom glanced between the two of them. "You free right now?"
Nero nodded. "I am."
"I've got about an hour," Drone added. "But then I need to head out for scouting."
Nero's brow furrowed. "Scouting? After one hour? Isn't that late?"
Thom raised an eyebrow. "You know when scouting usually starts?"
Nero blinked, confused. "I… I don't know. I just always thought it was early. Maybe I saw others do it?"
Thom let out a short breath, shaking his head slightly. "You remember how things should work, but not your own life."
Drone chuckled softly. "He's right, though. Normally, scouting starts early. But out here, there are things that move through the forest just after dawn—things that aren't animals. That's why I go a bit later."
Nero tilted his head, curiosity sparking despite the lingering unease. "Things? Not animals?"
"There are wild animals too," Drone said. "But these other things—they don't act like anything natural. They'll attack anything in their path, no questions asked."
Before Nero could ask more, Thom raised a hand, cutting off the conversation gently. "Alright, enough forest stories. The reason I called you both here is about the tracker."
"You found something?" Nero's voice rose slightly with hope.
Thom shook his head. "No. Not yet. The outside casing's giving me nothing. I need to get inside it—open it up, check the guts. See if it has any readable memory."
Nero hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. He stayed silent, turning the idea over in his mind.
Drone gave Thom a small nod, then looked at Nero encouragingly. "It might be worth a shot."
Thom crossed his arms and offered a half-smile. "You can watch me work, if that helps."
Nero still didn't reply right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground. "… If it breaks, that's the last link I have."
"I won't break it," Thom said calmly. "I'll be extra careful. Promise."
"C'mon, man," Drone added, nudging Nero's arm. "If it tells us anything at all, it's worth the risk."
Nero took a deep breath and finally gave in. "Alright. You can open it. But I'm watching every second."
Thom smirked. "Fair enough. Let's get to it."
The three of them made their way toward Thom's garage.
Nero looked around the garage, taking in the dim light and the shadows pooling in corners. When Thom flipped the lights on, the space came alive with scattered broken parts, half-finished gadgets, and a few battered toys lying about.
"You fix everything here, huh?" Nero asked, glancing at the clutter.
Thom shrugged and settled into his chair. "I try. But some things need better tools, more power. Those just end up lying around until someone figures out what to do with them."
He began prepping the tracker on the workbench, tools arranged neatly around him. "Grab a seat anywhere."
Nero pulled up a stool, watching closely as Thom studied the device.
The tracker had no visible openings—no screws, no panels, nothing to pry.
"There's no hole to insert anything. No screws to twist. This thing's built to keep most people out."
Drone leaned forward, eyes glinting. "What if you cut it?" He glanced at Nero. "Careful, though."
Thom looked over at Nero again. "What do you think? There's no other way in."
Nero nodded firmly.
"Alright. Here goes." Thom picked up a small rotary cutter and began working carefully around the edge of the tracker's casing.
The sharp whir of the tool filled the quiet garage as Thom moved slowly, precision in every motion.
Minutes passed—ten, maybe more—until finally, the top of the device popped free with a faint snap.
"Now we can see what's inside," Thom said, lifting the cover gently. "Maybe find something useful."
He carefully sifted through the inner components, brows furrowed as he examined the intricate circuits and unfamiliar tech.
"Kid, wherever you found this… this is some next-level stuff. Honestly? I don't even know where to begin. This stuff… it's way beyond me."
Nero stared at the open tracker, the tangled complexity inside only deepening the mystery. But the name—Dr. Elias Grant—echoed louder now, a thread he was determined to follow.