Nero sat at the edge of the bed, 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 that refused to take shape.
He remembered something.
Not a full picture. No place. No date. Just a fragment—a shard of clarity drifting in the fog of his mind.
A name.
And a face.
The face wouldn't bring anything with it, no matter how hard he tried.
A soft knock at the door broke the silence.
"Nero? You up?"
Drone's voice was low, edged with 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. Drone stepped inside—and stopped short when he saw Nero's expression. His eyes narrowed slightly in understanding.
"… You were crying again, huh?"
Nero didn't answer right away. 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 is it?"
"Dr. Elias Grant."
The words hung in the air, weighted and certain.
"I remember his face too."
For a moment, Drone just stared, as if the name had unlocked something neither of them had been ready for. Then he took a cautious step back, searching Nero's eyes.
"That's huge, 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 and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Hey. That's still huge. You remembered a name and a face—that's real progress. 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 said with a grin. "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, they made their way through the village and stopped outside Anika's house.
Drone knocked.
Nothing.
He knocked again. Still no answer.
"Huh," he 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.
"Yeah," Drone turned quickly. "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," Drone said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Forgot she does that."
Thom glanced between them. "You two free right now?"
"I am," Nero said.
"I've got about an hour," Drone added. "Then I need to head out for scouting."
Nero frowned. "Scouting? In an hour? Isn't that kind of late?"
Thom raised an eyebrow. "You know when scouting usually starts here?"
Nero blinked. "No… not here. I don't know. It's just—it's already 8:30. Shouldn't scouting happen at first light?"
Thom let out a short breath, shaking his head. "You remember how things should work. Just not your own life."
Drone chuckled softly. "He's not wrong. Normally, yeah—early. But out here, there's something that moves through the forest even after dawn. Something that isn't an animal."
Nero tilted his head, curiosity cutting through the unease. "Not an animal? A monster?"
"You could call it that," Drone said. "There are wild animals too—but this thing? It doesn't act like anything natural." He paused. "It attacks anything in its path. No warning. No questions asked."
Before Nero could ask more, Thom raised a hand, gently cutting off the conversation.
"Alright. Enough forest stories. The reason I called you both here is about the tracker."
Nero's head snapped up. "Did you find something?" His voice lifted with a flicker of hope.
Thom shook his head. "Not yet. The outside casing's giving me nothing. I need to get inside it—open it up, check the guts. See if there's any readable memory."
Nero hesitated. Uncertainty flickered across his face as he turned 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, offering a half-smile. "You can watch me work, if that helps."
Nero didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped to 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 slow breath, then finally nodded. "Alright. You can open it. But I'm watching every second."
Thom smirked. "Fair enough. Let's get to it."
They headed toward Thom's garage.
Nero took in the dim space as they entered, shadows pooling in the corners. When Thom flipped the lights on, the garage came alive—scattered broken parts, half-finished gadgets, and a few battered toys lying among the clutter.
"You fix everything here?" Nero asked, glancing around.
Thom shrugged as he settled into his chair. "I try. But some things need better tools. More power." He gestured vaguely. "Those just sit around until someone figures them out. We don't have enough fuel to keep the generators running all day."
Drone raised an eyebrow. "How long did you keep this one running for?"
Thom secured the tracker onto a mount without looking back. "Not that long. About thirty minutes. I was checking it before heading out to look for you two."
Drone's voice sharpened. "And you kept it running the whole time you were out? You of all people should know how tight our fuel situation is."
Thom didn't even glance over as he checked his tools. "Relax. You forget about the full fuel canister I found last week?"
Nero cut in, hesitant. "Sorry to butt in—but how many generators are there in this town?"
Thom paused, then glanced back at him. "What are you, a spy or something?"
Nero blinked, caught off guard. "No. I was just curious."
"Well," Thom said flatly, "curiosity killed the cat, kid."
Nero opened his mouth to respond, but Drone cut in. "Hey. Ease up." He turned to Nero. "Don't mind him. He likes giving new people a hard time."
After a beat, Drone added, "There are two generators. One here, one at my place. They supply power to the rest of the houses."
Nero's eyes widened in realization. "Oh. That explains the sound back at your place."
Drone snapped his fingers. "Bingo. We only run them in the evening. Shut them down when everyone goes to bed."
Thom turned back to the tracker. "Yeah. Tell the new guy everything."
"Don't worry about it," Drone said. "Nero's solid. We can trust him."
Thom waved a screwdriver at them. "Zip it. Grab a seat and let me work."
Nero pulled up a stool, leaning forward as Thom examined the device.
The tracker had no visible openings—no screws, no seams, nothing to pry.
"No ports. No panels," Thom muttered. "This thing's built to keep people out."
Drone leaned in. "What if you cut it?" He glanced at Nero. "Carefully."
Thom looked to Nero. "There's no other way in."
Nero nodded once. "Alright. Do it."
Thom picked up a small rotary cutter and began working along the edge of the casing. The sharp whir of the tool filled the quiet garage as he moved slowly, each motion precise.
Minutes passed—ten, maybe more.
Then, with a faint snap, the top of the device came free.
"Now we can see what's inside," Thom said, lifting the cover gently. "Maybe there's something useful."
He sifted through the inner components, brow furrowed as he studied the intricate circuits and unfamiliar technology.
Finally, Thom let out a defeated sigh and set his tools aside.
"Kid," he said quietly, "wherever you found this… this is next-level stuff. Honestly? I don't even know where to start. This tech—it's way beyond me."
Nero stared at the open tracker. The soft pulsing light was still there, steady and patient, the tangled complexity inside only deepening the mystery.
But the name—Dr. Elias Grant—echoed louder now.
A thread Nero was determined to follow.