Chapter 17 : The Truth
Chapter 17: The Truth They Want Him to Believe
The cold IV line pressed against Daniel's skin like a leash, tethering him to the hospital bed.
His mind was spinning. His pulse pounded.
Elias Wren.
That name. It wasn't his—was it?
He clenched his fists, testing the restraints. They were tight. Too tight.
The man with the Fractured Eye pin stood by the door, watching him like a scientist observing a test subject. The woman with the clipboard adjusted something on the monitor.
> "There's no need to struggle, Mr. Wren."
Daniel's breath came fast. Mr. Wren. They kept calling him that. Like it was the truth. Like they were waiting for him to accept it.
The woman stepped closer, her voice smooth and clinical.
> "Do you remember now?"
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"No."
The man in the suit smiled. "You will."
And then—
The IV line burned.
---
The Procedure
A wave of fire surged through Daniel's veins.
Not pain. Something worse. Something unnatural.
His head snapped back against the pillow as memories that weren't his tore through his mind.
A mission briefing.
A gun in his hand.
A man begging for his life.
Blood splattering against a white wall.
A name whispered in his ear—Mnemosyne.
Daniel gasped, his vision fracturing. These weren't real.
They couldn't be real.
Could they?
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memories back.
> They're lying. They're planting these in you.
> This isn't yours.
> Fight it.
His breathing turned ragged. He focused on the restraints, the weight of the straps digging into his wrists. He had to stay present. He had to stay himself.
Whoever that was.
The woman leaned in.
> "It's easier if you don't resist, Elias."
The name stabbed into him like a needle.
Daniel's hands clenched into fists.
"That's not my name."
The man in the suit sighed. "It will be."
He nodded toward the woman.
She pressed a button.
And the world exploded.
---
The Flood of False Memories
Daniel was falling.
Through time. Through memories. Through identities.
He saw himself—but not himself.
A black ops training facility.
A shadowed instructor.
The Mnemosyne emblem on a case full of syringes.
The first mission. The first kill.
It wasn't real.
But it felt so real.
Like a dream sinking into his bones, twisting around his sense of self.
A whisper echoed through his mind.
> Elias Wren. Mnemosyne's Ghost.
> A man who never existed. A weapon they erased.
Daniel screamed.
---
The Realization
His eyes snapped open.
Sweat soaked his hospital gown. His fingers twitched against the bed.
The woman was still watching him, clipboard in hand. The man with the Fractured Eye pin leaned in.
> "Do you remember now?"
Daniel's head pounded. His vision swam.
He wanted to say no.
But the memories were there now. Clearer.
He knew how to hold a gun.
He knew the layout of places he'd never been.
He knew the Mnemosyne protocols, the kill orders, the ways to vanish.
It wasn't real.
But what if it was?
The woman pressed something on the IV machine.
Daniel's pulse spiked.
More memories slammed into him.
A Mnemosyne execution order.
A mission in the dead of night.
A man's last breath as he strangled him.
Daniel's vision fractured.
Was this who he was?
Was this the truth?
Or just a story they were forcing him to believe?
He had to get out.
Now.
---
The Escape
Daniel slowed his breathing.
He needed a plan.
The restraints were thick, but not unbreakable.
His fingers tested the straps.
Left wrist. Tight but frayed.
Right wrist. Locked, but a slight give.
He kept his breathing steady, forcing his body to go limp.
He waited.
The woman turned her back, adjusting the machine.
The man with the Fractured Eye pin checked his watch.
Daniel struck.
Left wrist—free.
Right wrist—snap.
He ripped the IV from his arm.
The alarm screamed.
The woman spun around—too late.
Daniel lunged.
The clipboard cracked against her head.
She dropped.
The Mnemosyne agent drew a gun.
Daniel moved before he could aim.
A sharp twist—
A gunshot—
A muffled cry—
And suddenly—
Daniel was the one holding the gun.
His hands knew the weight.
The way his fingers curled around the trigger felt too natural.
The agent staggered back, clutching his arm.
Daniel aimed at his head.
> "Tell me the truth."
Blood dripped onto the pristine white floor. The agent's cold eyes didn't flinch.
> "You already know the truth, Elias."
Daniel's hand shook.
"No."
The agent smiled.
> "Yes."
Daniel's mind split.
His memories warred with themselves.
Who was he?
Daniel Whitaker?
Elias Wren?
Both?
Neither?
A crackling radio signal buzzed through the room.
> "Subject has broken containment."
> "Backup incoming."
Daniel's heart slammed against his ribs.
More were coming.
He turned—
And ran.
---
The Hallway of Forgotten Names
The hospital walls stretched endlessly.
Every door looked the same.
White. Numbered. Unmarked.
His feet pounded against the cold tiles.
Somewhere behind him, alarms blared.
He had to get out.
The hallway twisted—looping, shifting.
His breath hitched. No way out.
Until—
A door.
A rusted metal door.
Not white.
Not new.
Old. Familiar.
Room 19.
His stomach turned.
Why was it here?
His hands trembled.
He reached for the handle—
> "Don't."
Daniel froze.
A figure stood at the end of the hall.
Shadowed. Waiting.
The voice was his own.
> "You're not supposed to go back."
Daniel's heart pounded.
But his hand was already on the door.
And he pulled.