Episode 12 : 2nd Skill Unlocked.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sunlight. It streamed through the broken windows of the abandoned warehouse, cutting through the thick dust that hung in the air like a suspended veil. The beams of light illuminated the particles, making them shimmer like tiny stars. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body heavy and unresponsive. My mind was foggy, still caught between the horrors of last night and the fragile reality of this new day.

"I survived,"

I whispered, my voice cracking from disuse. The words felt foreign, almost unbelievable. After everything—the HYDRA base, the experiments, the escape—I had made it through the night. The sun was proof of that. It was a small victory, a simple step for me.

"Ughh! I just can 't gets used to this…"

I forced myself to sit up, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. My joints felt like they were filled with rust, and my skin was taut and sensitive, as if it might tear at the slightest movement. I groaned, clutching my side where a deep bruise throbbed beneath my ribs. My body was a patchwork of scars and wounds, each one a reminder of what the old me had endured.

The warehouse was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden beams and the distant cooing of pigeons nesting in the rafters. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, a stark contrast to the sterile, antiseptic smell of the HYDRA facility. I scanned the room, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The office I had taken refuge in was small and cluttered, with peeling paint and a floor covered in a thin layer of dust. The only furniture was a long table, its surface scratched and stained testament to it's old and used age, and a few broken chairs scattered around.

"This place was a mess…Sigh, well…. At least, it was…. safe...".

I had dragged myself here last night, my body on the brink of collapse. The memory was hazy, but I remembered stumbling through the darkness, my breath ragged and my vision blurred, I knew that at that time, I had to lay down. I had chosen this warehouse because it was secluded, hidden among a cluster of other abandoned buildings. It was far enough from the main road to avoid prying eyes, but close enough to civilization that I could scavenge for supplies if needed. The office had been the cleanest spot I could find, and I had collapsed onto the floor, too exhausted to care about the dirt or the cold.

Now, as I stood there, I took stock of my surroundings. My belongings were scattered across the table—keys, cash, wallets, and the two handguns I had taken from the HYDRA staff. They were my only possessions now, the remnants of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. Next to them were the three chicken burritos I had bought last night, their wrappers still intact. I hadn't had the strength to eat them then, but now my stomach growled loudly, demanding attention.

I reached for one of the burritos, my hands trembling as I unwrapped it. The tortilla was cold and slightly soggy, but I didn't care. I took a bite, the flavors exploding in my mouth. It was simple, cheap food, but at that moment, it tasted like a feast. I devoured the first burrito in seconds, barely pausing to chew, and immediately started on the second.

As I ate, I felt a strange warmth spreading through my body. It started in my chest, a faint tingling sensation that grew stronger with each passing moment. My Vitalis Umbra was kicking in, the skill finally able to do its work now that I had some food in my system. I could feel my body healing, the wounds knitting themselves together and the fatigue slowly ebbing away. It wasn't instantaneous—my body was still a wreck—but it was a start.

"Ah~ …finally… I feel alive again…".

I finished the last burrito and leaned on the table; my stomach full for the first time in what felt like weeks. But as the warmth of the food settled, I became acutely aware of just how filthy I was. I looked down at my hands, the dirt and grime caked under my nails and in the creases of my skin. My inner clothes were torn and stained, clinging to my body like a second skin. And the smell—God, the smell. It was a mix of sweat, blood, and something else, something rotten. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"I stink," I muttered, my voice low and hoarse. "I smell like a rotten corpse…well, technically I did? ..."

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs wobbling slightly as I made my way over to the sink in the corner of the office. It was old and rusted, the faucet covered in a layer of grime. I turned the handle, half-expecting nothing to happen, but to my surprise, a thin trickle of water flowed out. It was brown at first, but after a few seconds, it cleared up. I cupped my hands under the stream, the cold water sending a shiver down my spine. I splashed it on my face, the dirt and grime washing away in streaks.

I grabbed a rag from a nearby shelf, its fabric stiff and discolored from years of neglect. It smelled of mildew, but it was better than nothing. I wet it and began scrubbing at my skin, the rough fabric scraping away layers of filth. As I cleaned myself, I couldn't help but think about everything that had happened. The experiments, the pain, the escape—it all felt like a nightmare, one I couldn't wake up from.

I ran my bony fingers over the scars that crisscrossed my body—burn marks, bullet wounds, cuts, and needle tracks. Each one told a story, a story of suffering and survival. But the worst was the Y-shaped cut on my chest down to my torso, the result of an autopsy, it was badly stitched, uneven and rough, said a lot about how it was simply done to make sure that my innards does not spill and that was it. They had cut me open, confirmed my death, and left me to rot, about to be turned to ashes. But I, I come back to life, taking control of this body and become complete again.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I let them fall, not bothering to wipe them away. I was sad, yes, but there was more to it than that. There was anger, frustration, and a strange, twisted gratitude that I had survived. I had been through hell, but I was still here. Still breathing. Still fighting.

I leaned against the sink, my head hanging low as the tears streamed down my face.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Why did they do this to me? WHY!!!!?" I shouted out, echoing through the empty space.

There was no answer, of course. The warehouse was silent, save for the faint drip of water from the faucet. I took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened up, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. I couldn't afford to fall apart now. Not when there was still so much to do.

"Suck it up, Sai…Fuhh~ let's move on now…okay?" I stared at the non-existing mirror, shit happened, so let's internalized it, and move on to a much productive stuff.

I returned to the table and began organizing my belongings, my movements slow and deliberate. The handguns, the cash, the keys—they were my only tools now, the only things standing between me and whatever came next. I didn't know what the future held, but I knew one thing for certain: I wasn't going back to be the old me. I am not going to be some HYDRA bitch. I will not be living in someone else game, no more, this time I am gonna play my own game, where I will be controlling the board.

"One step at a time," I said to myself, my voice steady and resolute. "You've come this far. To be to agitated…. calm it down, and let's move slowly…."

The faint sunlight filtering through the cracked windows of the warehouse casting a pale glow over the organized items in front of me. My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up the stack of cash I had looted from the wallets of the two dead HYDRA agents. The bills were crumpled and stained, but they were mine now. I began counting them methodically, my mind already calculating how far this money could take me.

"Two hundred and fifty dollars," I muttered under my breath, stacking the bills neatly on the table. "Not a lot, but it's enough for now."

Enough for food, at least. That was the immediate priority. My body was still a wreck, malnourished and riddled with scars, and I needed to fuel it if I wanted to heal properly. The rest—shelter, weapons, medical supplies—would have to come later. I couldn't afford to be reckless with this money. Every dollar counts.

I glanced at the IDs lying next to the cash. They belonged to the two dead men, their faces staring blankly up at me from the plastic cards. I picked one up, studying it for a moment before tossing it aside.

"Useless," I said aloud, my voice echoing in the empty warehouse. "Can't use these. Too risky."

HYDRA was probably looking for me, and using anything tied to those men—IDs, credit cards, even their names—would be like painting a target on my back. I couldn't afford to leave a trail. Cash transactions only. No digital footprints. No connections. HYDRA was a spy organization, using this sort of items, would eventually create a connection that would leave a footprint back to me, they were not following the rules of any normal folks. I had to stay invisible. The thought of going to the police crossed my mind, but I dismissed it immediately.

"Stupid idea," I muttered, shaking my head. "HYDRA's probably got eyes everywhere. Cops, government agencies—they could all be compromised. One wrong move, and I'm dead."

I leaned on the table, my mind racing. The government wasn't my ally in this. For all I knew, HYDRA had infiltrated every level of it. I couldn't trust anyone. Not the police, not the hospitals, not even the damn DMV. I had to assume the worst: that every institution was a potential threat. My only option was to stay in the shadows, to move like a ghost.

"Evade at all costs," I said, repeating the mantra in my head. "No cameras. No IDs. No contact. Just survive."

Survival. That was the goal. But survival wasn't just about staying alive. It was about rebuilding, about regaining what I had lost. My body was a mess, but my mind—my mind was still sharp. Or at least, it would be soon. I could feel it, like a storm brewing in the depths of my consciousness. Today, one of my skills would unlock. The second one. And with it, I'd gain an edge.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands frozen in time, granted the clock were old and already broken, but somewhat it felt as if I should look at it like flair for dramatic that my gullible self-had to do. It didn't matter. I could feel it coming. The skill. The power. It was like a ticking bomb, ready to explode.

And then, it happened.

A surge of energy shot through my brain, like a lightning bolt cracking open the sky. My vision blurred for a moment, and then everything snapped into focus. Sharper. Clearer. Faster. My mind was alive, buzzing with activity, processing information at a speed I hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity.

"Eidetic Mind," I whispered, the words dripping with awe. "It's back."

The skill was everything I remembered—and more. My intellect, my memory, my ability to learn and analyze—it was all amplified to superhuman levels. I could recall every detail of every book I'd ever read, every conversation I'd ever had, every battle I'd ever fought. Complex equations, tactical strategies, even the tiniest nuances of human behavior—they all unfolded in my mind like a perfectly orchestrated symphony.

My legs steady despite the whirlwind in my head. My brain was hyperactive, racing through calculations and deductions at breakneck speed. It was like that scene in the movies where the protagonist takes the NZT pill and unlocks their full brain potential. Except this wasn't fiction or even a movie. This was real. And it was mine.

As my mind adjusted to its newfound power, something else happened. Memories—real memories—began flooding in. Not just fragments, but full, vivid recollections of this body's past. The life I had inherited. The man I had become.

I chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the empty warehouse. "A failed actor," I said, shaking my head. "An unknown model. And a small-time pornstar. What a life."

The memories were bittersweet. This body had been through hell long before HYDRA got their hands on it. Abandoned at an orphanage, running away at seventeen, trying to make it in a world that chewed him up and spit him out. He had the looks, the charm, even the… equipment, as I noted with a wry smile. But luck wasn't on his side. Every opportunity turned into exploitation, his good looks attract bad attentions, passed around to all sort of evil people, while he was praying that the good time will come. Every dream turned into a nightmare. And then, HYDRA.

"Rollercoaster doesn't even begin to cover it," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "But that's over now. This is my life. And I'm not going to waste it...and that sort of shit would never happen ever again"

I took a deep breath, the weight of my past—both pasts—settling on my shoulders. But there was no time to dwell on it. I had work to do. I needed to recover. To rebuild. To survive. I grabbed my clothes and began dressing, my movements quick and efficient. The stench of my body was unbearable, a mix of sweat, blood, and decay. I needed a real shower, not just a wipe with rags. Clean clothes. Medical supplies. And more food. Lots of it. I glanced at the handguns on the table. They were my only weapons, my only protection. I picked up both of them, checking the magazine before sliding it into the waistband of my pants. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

"Two days," I said to myself, my voice firm. "Two more days, and the last skill unlocks. Then, I'll be ready."

Ready to finally take full control of my situation. And I knew one thing: I wasn't going to let HYDRA—or anyone else—take me down again. I had survived the night. I had survived HYDRA. And I would survive whatever came next.