Echoes of G....

"It was G... Grayson," Tson murmured slowly, his voice thick with sorrow. The figure before him didn't acknowledge the words, not a glance or a sound. Instead, it moved toward the crystal, as though trying to shield it from his view. "What are you doing out of the chamber?" Tson asked, his voice trembling, his mind spiraling back to memories of his youth. He had been too old to be adopted. Everyone with potential was taken in and adopted by families hoping they'd one day become a hero—what the kids called a cape—and help their new families. But no one had ever come for him.

It was these kinds of stories that often twisted people into villains, or "cloaks," but that hadn't been Tson's path. Instead, an unassuming man had taken him in. Out of pure kindness, he'd given Tson a place to stay, even letting him keep his original family name—the last link to his mother, who had passed away giving birth to him when he was just thirteen. For the first time, Tson knew what it meant to have a family, to know there was at least one person—besides Kevin—who cared.

But that peace shattered three years later when Grayson returned from a mission, clutching orbs in his arms. Grayson was battered, his body bruised, one leg and one arm gone. Tson knew those orbs—arc reactors—had to be important, so he stored them away, even conducting experiments on them, hoping they'd help him fulfill his dream of becoming a cape. It wouldn't have been so bad. Grayson had always been someone who helped others no matter the cost. But then, when Grayson teleported in—how was he still awake? A personal doctor was called to stabilize him. The doctor had said he would likely never wake again.

So why, then, was Grayson standing there now?

Tson tried to meet Grayson's gaze, searching for any trace of recognition—but the eyes that once held warmth were now empty, distant, devoid of life. The familiar presence he had known was gone, replaced by something cold and unfeeling, as if Grayson had no memory of the person standing before him.

His missing arm, lost in the accident that he had teleported from, had been replaced with a metal prosthetic. With even the slightest movement, it let out a sharp, grating screech.

A sinking dread settled in Tson's chest. Oh no… not you too. His voice wavered as realization took hold.

Then, his worst fears were confirmed. His suit's scanning system activated, analyzing the armored figure before him.

Rampage Suit Host Identified: Grayson Noble.

The words echoed in his mind like a death sentence. As if in response, the once-calm blue glow of the crystal at Grayson's core flickered, then shifted into an ominous red.

Panic surged through Tson. Sentinel! he commanded, and his suit immediately disengaged, its defensive systems deactivating.

Taking a shaky step forward, he raised a trembling hand. “G… Grayson, you have to listen to me. Please… It's me, Tson. â€

But the figure before him remained unmoved—cold, unrecognizing. The flashing red light across what was once Grayson's face pulsed like a heartbeat, casting eerie shadows across the room.

Desperation clawed at Tson as he reached out, his palm hovering just inches away, praying that somehow, some way, his brother was still in there.

As Tson stepped closer, the figure—now confirmed as Grayson—suddenly vanished, reappearing behind him in an instant. He continued to teleport erratically, flickering from place to place, each movement leaving behind a faint distortion in the air.

Meanwhile, the crystal embedded in his body pulsed with an eerie glow, flooding with unreadable, ominous codes—symbols resembling strange hieroglyphics. But Tson had no time to decipher them. His focus remained on one thing: bringing his brother back.

Unlike Kevin, knocking Grayson out wasn't an option. He was too fast, too unpredictable, vanishing before Tson could even think to strike. Not that it mattered—deep down, he knew he didn't have the resolve to hurt Grayson, not even a little. He owed everything to him.

His hands trembled as doubt crept in, his resolve shaken. But if he could time Grayson's next teleport just right, maybe—just maybe—he could find a way to stop him.

Right now, though, he had no plan. Only hope, hope that Grayson would come back to his senses; everything else seemed perilous to him.

Tson took a steadying breath, forcing himself to focus. Hope was a fragile thing, easily shattered, and right now, he couldn't afford to lose it. But Grayson—this wasn't him. Not really.

The flickering distortions in the air were growing more erratic, the energy in the room swelling with each of Grayson's jumps. If this kept up, the space around them would destabilize. Already, the crystal's glow was casting fractured light against the walls, like cracks forming in reality itself.

"Grayson!" Tson tried again, his voice firmer, more desperate. "You don't have to do this. I know you. You wouldn't hurt me."

The air behind him pulsed. Tson spun, barely dodging as Grayson reappeared mid-strike. His metal arm whistled through the air, grazing past Tson's shoulder with unnatural speed. Sparks erupted from the contact, his suit's shielding flickering under the strain.

Tson gritted his teeth. If he didn't act soon, Grayson's energy would spiral out of control. His teleportation was becoming less precise, more unstable.

And then, in a blink, Grayson halted. He stood motionless, just a few feet away, his frame trembling as though something inside him was warring against itself.

Tson hesitated. "Grayson?"

Grayson's body pulsed erratically, flashing between red and blue from his suit from the silvery grey suit—chaos fighting against something buried deep within. Maybe a memory? A piece of who he used to be?

"Come back to me," Tson whispered, hoping and praying that his brother could hear him; after all, he is only in this state because his failed experiment had merged with him, turning him into some sort of inhuman being incapable of love and lacking the warmth of the Grayson he knew.