The sound of running water filled the dimly lit bathroom as steam curled against the cold metal walls. Allen stood motionless under the cascading warmth, his hands pressed against the slick surface in front of him. Droplets slid down his skin, tracing over the bruises and cuts that, not long ago, had marred his body. But now, they were gone. His injuries, his pain—all erased as if they had never been there.
He closed his eyes, allowing the water to soak his hair as he exhaled slowly. The events that had unfolded in the last few hours, or however long he had been here, played over in his mind like a fragmented film reel. The masked figure's words still lingered, wrapping around his thoughts like iron chains.
Freedom was an illusion.
Allen clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists against the tiled wall. He had always believed in choices, in the power to shape one's destiny. Yet here he was, trapped in a situation beyond his control, forced to play along in someone else's game.
Escape? The thought had crossed his mind a dozen times already. But the cold, rational part of him crushed it instantly. There was no escaping this place, not yet. He had seen enough, felt enough, to understand that whoever was pulling the strings was beyond his current strength.
Survive. That was the only goal for now.
He sighed and turned off the water. As he stepped out, steam billowed around him, clinging to his frame. It was only then that he caught a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up mirror.
His breath hitched.
He wiped a hand across the glass, clearing the condensation, and what stared back at him was... unfamiliar. A stranger with dark skin, white hair, and striking red eyes. His fingers instinctively brushed against his face, his own reflection mimicking the movement.
Was this... him?
The shock ran deep, but it did not last. His mind, sharp and calculating, quickly buried the emotions. Questions swarmed like a storm, but answers were nowhere to be found. Instead, he focused on one thing: he was still alive. And that meant he had a chance to figure everything out.
He straightened, pushing away the remnants of doubt. His body—though changed—felt strong. No weakness, no pain. He flexed his fingers, tracing over his forearms, his shoulders, his chest. Everything seemed in order. If anything, he felt... better. More refined.
A rebirth of sorts.
Allen exhaled sharply, a smirk ghosting over his lips. "Alright. Let's see where this leads."
He dressed in the provided clothes—a simple black tank top and fitted athletic pants—before stepping out of the bathroom. The air outside was as sterile as ever, the facility's artificial lighting casting an eerie glow along the hallways. His bare feet barely made a sound against the cold floor as he made his way back to the gym.
His mind was clear now. No more doubts. No more wasted thoughts on escape.
For now, he would play the part. Follow the rules. Learn everything he could.
And when the time was right... he would make his move.
Because freedom wasn't an illusion.
It was a goal.