Nathan furrowed his brows and stepped closer, peering over the young goth’s shoulder at the photograph.

The man in the picture stood rigid, a rifle resting against his uniform like an extension of his body. Every soldier in the frame wore the same expression—disciplined, unreadable. Nathan’s gaze drifted downward, catching on the insignia stitched into the fabric.

He took the frame gently from Rolen’s hands, angling it toward the light.
Confusion tightened his expression. Then his red eyes lifted to meet Rolen’s tired blue ones.

“Your dad was in the southern special forces?”

His voice was cold, serious. The sudden shift in both action and tone caught the engineer off guard, the static easing away ever so slightly despite the larger male’s presence.
“I think so…?” Rolen finally answered. “My dad never really talked about his time in the military, only that it’s where he met my mom.”

His red gaze moved from the picture down to Rolen, and then back to the picture, this time to his father’s face. His father’s features resembled Rolen’s almost like a mirror. The resemblance was undeniable. Same structure. Same eyes. Only sharpened by years Rolen hadn’t lived yet.

“You look a lot like your father,” Nathan said quietly.

Rolen opened his mouth to say something, only for Lexa to come bursting through his thought bubble.

“What are you two doing? Ghost caught on camera or something?”
Nathan’s expression darkened in annoyance before glancing over to Lexa. He said nothing as he flipped the frame over and undid the clasps. After taking the photo out, he handed it to Rolen.

“Here, you should hold onto it.” The combat medic mumbled before gently resting a hand on the young man’s lower back and guiding him to the bedroom.

Lexa raised an eyebrow and moved to let them into the room, her eyes never leaving the soldier’s frame, unease settling in her gut.

“Okay then.” She mumbled and walked in after them, the bedroom door creaking shut behind them, the old wood nearly rotting off the hinges.

After Rolen had taken the picture, he stared at it for a moment before stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans.
The room wasn’t too big; it held a queen-size bed in the middle, with old stains of God-knows-what on the mattress. The rotten dresser did nothing to make the room smell any less of mold.

Nathan watched intently as the goth made himself comfortable on the old bed. Lexa only showed a moment of hesitation before joining him on the other side.

“Get some rest, you’re gonna need it. I’ll hold first watch.” The combat medic said before pulling the old desk chair toward the door, the wooden legs nearly giving out under the soldier’s weight.

“Don’t get any ideas, red eyes,” Lexa called from the bed, narrowing her eyes at him. “So much as sniff at me the wrong way and the creep family downstairs suddenly gains a grandson.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “Not even in your dreams, woman. Now get some shut-eye.”

“How do—oh…” Lexa was about to say something to Rolen, only to see him fast asleep. His expression was rather peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily. The combat medic shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it over the engineer’s smaller frame, his expression softening ever so slightly before he sat back down on the chair, the old wood creaking under his weight.

“Oh, so that’s how it is~” Lexa mused, crossing her legs as she sat upright in the bed, a knowing, teasing smirk dancing over her features.

Nathan raised an eyebrow as his gaze shifted over to hers, his expression already tightening. “Whatever you’re deluding yourself with, get over it and go to sleep.” The soldier’s voice was back to its commanding tone, although softer so as not to wake Rolen.

“You actually like him~” Lexa teased.

“Lexa,” Nathan hissed, getting visibly irritated. “Go to sleep.” There was no room for discussion.

Lexa huffed but laid back down. “Alright, alright, jeez.” She mumbled and grabbed the hilt of her knife, keeping it in reach as she closed her eyes to get some sleep.
The room settled.

The only sound left was breathing—Lexa’s slow and steady, Nathan’s controlled and shallow, positioned between Rolen and the door.

Rolen didn’t remember deciding to sleep.
His body sank into the mattress as if it had been waiting for permission to stop. The smell of mold faded. The weight of the jacket over his chest became distant, almost unreal.
Somewhere beneath it all, the static returned.

The darkness behind his eyelids pulled his mind into the abyss of sleep. The voices in the room faded into the background of his mind.
Rest didn’t come easy for the young engineer, however.

Someone was lying on the floor in front of him—slumped over, with his back against the wall. Thick wires disappeared into the back of his skull, blood trickling down his neck.
Rolen reached out toward the familiar figure, his fingers trembling with uncertainty, but before he could even get close, the goth nearly jumped out of his skin as loud alarms began blaring and red lights danced throughout the room.

The static grew louder, the pressure of the buzzing making his head throb and his vision cloud. Rolen stumbled backward just as the man on the floor weakly lifted his head.
Rolen’s gaze met a familiar one.

The man bleeding before him—it was his father.
Another wave of intense static crashed over him.

“HOST INTERROGATION NEGATIVE.”

It didn’t sound like it came from a speaker. The voice—the awful, robotic voice—echoed through the engineer’s skull, as if it were broadcast directly to him.

Rolen tried to focus his vision back on his father, who was now standing upright before him.
His hands gripped the goth’s shoulders tightly as he shook him.

“Rolen! Do you hear me?! Don’t let them get to you! Do you understand?! You can’t let them catch you!”
His father’s voice grew louder and more desperate, yet somehow faded more and more, even as his grip remained ironclad.

Rolen opened his eyes, his vision clearing as Nathan’s worried face and firm grip on his shoulders shook him awake.
“Rolen! Wake up!”