Survival

The fire crackled low.

The meat sizzled on the spit.

And silence hung between the three of us like mist.

I sat a little apart, perched on a rock, sharpening my blade. The others shared whispered conversation by the fire. I didn't listen. Didn't need to.

I didn't plan to stay.

This was temporary. That's what I told myself.

But when morning came, I didn't leave.

---

We moved through the forest like shadows now—me in front, 080 behind, and 067 covering our flank. It wasn't planned that way, it just… happened.

They weren't useless, I'll give them that.

067 fought well—efficient, focused, precise. Cold, even. Something about her was eerily familiar, like an echo of someone I once knew in another life. A name floated in the back of my mind—

Candice?

No… that wasn't right. Or maybe it was. I didn't remember anymore.

Names were heavy things.

I wasn't even sure mine was real.

---

"Hey… you okay?" 080 asked, jogging up beside me. He was taller, broader. The kind of guy you'd expect to play protector. Friendly eyes. Too friendly. Like a golden retriever that hadn't learned the world bites back.

"Hm?" I blinked.

"You spaced out. Again."

I hadn't noticed. My hand was still moving, loading a cartridge into my pistol, but the rest of me wasn't there.

"... I'm Fine," I muttered.

He smiled like it meant something. "Good. Just checking."

Why was he still smiling?

---

Later, we set up base near a cliffside, overlooking a ravine. A natural choke point. Hard to flank. Good visibility. I chose it.

067 helped set tripwires.

080 dug trenches and laid spike traps.

I watched.

"I still think you're a weirdo," 067 muttered under her breath, tightening a wire. "But you're smart. I'll give you that."

I didn't respond.

I was watching the sky. Not for enemies. Just… watching.

"You didn't deny it," she added with a smirk.

I shrugged. "Maybe I am."

---

At night, we sat around the fire again. The meat was good. Better than usual. 080 had found some berries and grilled root vegetables to go with it. He was humming. Actually humming.

"I used to cook with my sister," he said.

I looked at him. "What was her name?"

He blinked. Then looked away.

"…I don't remember."

Silence.

"Me neither," I said, staring into the flames. "Not even mine."

067 stopped chewing. Her eyes flicked toward me, but she said nothing.

The fire popped. Sparks danced like dying stars.

"I think it starts with an A," I added. "Or an X. Or maybe that's someone else."

The silence returned. Comfortable this time.

---

The next day, we were ambushed by a group of wildhounds. Low intelligence, high aggression. Twelve of them.

We moved as one.

I took point, gun in one hand, blade in the other.

067 used her spear like a surgical instrument, moving through the pack with terrifying precision.

080 fought with a crude hammer, smashing anything that got too close.

But I didn't lose myself this time. I felt the familiar pull, the cold logic, the calculation. That trait again. But this time—I held on to something. A tether.

A voice called out during the fight. Not a warning. Just a name.

"AX—!"

It froze me.

I turned.

067 was looking at me, confused. "Did I just…?"

080 grinned. "AX?! Pffft!!" he burst into laughter "like 'axe'?"

I blinked.

He was starting to annoy me.

---

That night, I didn't sit apart.

I sat with them.

We didn't talk about names or scars or the ways our minds had broken under the weight of isolation.

We introduced ourselves or what we could remember.

067 - Marilda

080 - Thomas

Me? You already know I'm Axel.

We talked about berries.

And how awful 067's cooking was.

And how 080 once fell into a hole because he thought it was a bush.

And I laughed.

Actually laughed.

I didn't recognize the sound.

---

Somewhere on a screen notes flashed.

[Log Entry – Simulation Week, Day 4]

Group cohesion: Stable.

Subject 059 responding to group stimuli. Emotional recovery: Inconclusive.

Combat proficiency: Consistently above simulation projections.

Trait development: Unstable growth. Potential awakening imminent.

---

When I went to sleep that night, I dreamed of color.

Not white ceilings. Not test rooms. Not pain.

Just a flickering campfire.

A girl's pale eyes watching me.

A golden retriever of a boy telling a dumb joke.

And for the first time in a long time—

I didn't wake up screaming.