Weeks later.
The rain was light, almost apologetic.
It fell in thin lines from a grey California sky, dampening black coats and dark umbrellas, softening the edge of a day no one wanted to remember too clearly.
People stood gathered beneath a canopy of trees at the edge of a quiet cemetery. Faces were all solemn. Some unfamiliar, others painfully known. There were murmured condolences, bowed heads, clasped hands held a second too long.
Michael stood near the front.
His suit didn't quite fit anymore, like he'd lost weight without realizing it. His shoulders were tense, jaw clenched, eyes fixed somewhere past the caskets, past the words being spoken. He listened without hearing, nodded without understanding.
Beside him stood Aria.
Her hands were folded in front of her, fingers intertwined so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. Her expression was composed - too composed. The kind of calm that came from holding something together by sheer will. Every so often, her eyes flicked toward Michael, checking if he was still next to her.
Behind them stood other Nexus workers. Some stared at the ground, others at nothing at all. A few wiped at their eyes when they thought no one was looking.
When it was over, people drifted away slowly, as if leaving too fast might make it real.
The rain kept falling.
Weeks After.
Life, in its cruel efficiency, resumed.
Traffic returned to it's familiar congestion.offices reopened. Meetings were held. Deadlines were extended then reinstated. Nexus engineering released statements. Investigations were mentioned then quietly buried underneath corporate language.
However, whispers remained.
People talked about the incident. About alarms that came too late. About a fire that shouldn't have burned the way it did. About reports that didn't align. About footage that had vanished.
Questions hung in the air, unanswered and heavy. And for some nothing ever went back to normal.
Michael's apartment looks like time had lost interest in it.
Clothes were draped over chairs, tables, the floor. Empty takeouts containers were stacked haphazardly near the kitchen sink. Papers - contracts, notes and unread mail - were scattered everywhere like the remnants of a life that had once been meticulously organized. Michael sat on the couch, slouched low, remote loose in one hand.
The television flickered endlessly.
Next.
A show.
Next.
A documentary.
Next.
A movie he'd already seen.
His thumb kept pressing the button, over and over, as if something might eventually catch is attention but it never did.
His body was there. Breathing. Existing.
But his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Aria's apartment was warm, softly lit. It smelled faintly of tea and citrus. Pillows were arranged neatly on the couch, A stark contrast to the chaos inside her chest.
Celeste start across from her, legs tucked beneath her, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn't touch in several minutes. She had come without being asked. Stayed without being told.
" You don't have to be okay Shells." Celeste gently said.
Aria managed a weak smile "I know."
Cedars-Sinai Medical Center - Los Angeles
The hospital room was quiet.
Two quiet for comfort.
Machines softly hummed, steady and patient. A single monitor blinked in a slow, measured rhythm. Tubes ran from the figure on the be, delivering air, fluids - life in its most fragile form.
The patient looked almost unreal. Hell he was already halfway gone, maybe even dead. Flowers lined the windowsill. Get-well cards were stacked on a small table nearby, their bright colors at odds with the sterile white of the room.
A Label on the chart read simply:
Patient: 6-23
Status: Comma
Down the hall, nurses sat at their station, speaking in low voices, eyes trained on the screens
Then -
The monitor spiked. A sharp insistent beeping shattered the calm.
"Room six," one nurse said, already standing. "Vitals are going wild."
Another glanced at the screen, eyes widening. "That's 6-23"
"Call it in."
"Get doctor Martin."
Air rushed into the patient's lungs. His eyes flew open as his body jerked upright, a raw, desperate gasp tearing from his throat.
The monitor screamed. Nurses burst into the room hands steady despite the urgency.
"Sir, can you hear me?"
"Take it easy, don't move."
"Check if his pupils are dilated."
He sat on the edge of his bed, just heaving, eyes wide open but not frightened. As test were run and questions asked, he didn't respond. he didn't blink when lights were shined into his eyes. He didn't flinch when his reflexes were checked. He simply stared out the window where beyond the glass the city stretched endlessly - cars moving and people living.
A world that had continued without him. Cause that's just how life is. People just... Move on, with or without you.
Then in came Doctor Martin in his professional calm, clipboard in hand.
"Good to see you're up Mr. Coleman."
Darius didn't flinch.
"I have to say. You're very special in the eyes of the lord. You were never to come from it this early... Or ever at all."
"Where is he?"
The room fell silent. He didn't mean....
"You need to rest Mr. Coleman."
"Oh quit the BS. WHERE IS HE?" This time his voice got spiked with slow creeping rage. "Nurse. Run the test in him n refill his fluids."
Darius's head slumped back to the pillow.
The lobby of Nexus engineering appeared unchanged, which felt odd. People bustled in an out, clutching coffee cups and laptops. Soft conversations feel the air, blending with the gentle chime of opening and closing elevators. To an outsider, it seemed like a typical work day. But for Michael it felt like stepping into a facade, a place pretending that nothing had occurred. He paused by the entrance, hands in his coat pockets, gaze wandering toward the corridor that led to the Engineering wing.
It had been weeks since the explosion wreaked havoc in that area of the building, leaving it sealed off with temporary walls and yellow safety tapes. The topic seemed to have faded from conversations, but the silence surrounding it spoke volumes. Michael decided to take a stroll through the building, acknowledging his co-workers with nods. Some greeted him with sympathetic smiles, while others deliberately avoided making eye contact. No one brought up Allan. There was no need to.
At the end of the engineering corridor, there was a small security monitoring office with an open door. Inside, rows of monitors showed camera feeds from various areas of the building: parking lots, hallways, elevators - providing gimpses into every corner of Nexus. A security guard was seated behind the desk, going through reports. When Michael entered, she glanced up.
"Michael," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. Her name tag identified her as Rosa Alvarez. Leaning back in her chair, she remarkerd, "didn't expect to see you down here today... Or anytime soon." Michael responded with a faint smile.
Michael took a few steps closer to the monitors, glancing at them as if he was just idly passing time.
"Are you guys still running all the same cameras?" He asked.
"Most of them," Rosa replied. " A couple had to be replaced after the incident."
Michael nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah, that was a mess."
Rosa hummed in agreement. For a moment neither of them spoke as Michael's eyes drifted towards one of the screens showing archived footage being cataloged.
"Has the company completed the investigation yet?" He inquired.
"Officially," Rosa replied with a soft chuckle, "The electrical failure caused a surge in radiation that fried the systems,"
"Enough to disrupt the electronics down there?"
"Even the security drives." She added.
Michael leaned in closer to the monitors. "So the cameras didn't catch anything? Nothing at all?"
Rosa observed him silently for a moment. "There's not much to see," she remarkerd, turning her chair towards the system and pressing a few keys. One of the screens switched to an archived recording. Michael watched the video playback. Engineers hurried past, alarms blaring overhead, and then Alan dashed by the camera. Michael felt a tightness in his chest but kept his expression neutral. Suddenly, static rippled through the image and within moments the footage dissolved into a gray interference. Rosa leaned in, noting, "A few seconds of nothing but snow, then radiation spikes. The whole system went haywire right there." Michael stared at the distorted screen, asking, "Does it recover?"
"Nope," Rosa replied, fast-forwarding through more static until the screen turned black. " That's where it ends."
Michael acknowledged this slowly, trying to hide his disappointment. Rosa glanced at him, sending his hope for answers, but remained silent, leaning back as she let the silence linger for a moment. Michael gave the monitor a final glance, finding only dead footage and unanswered questions. Suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket, the sound echoing louder than expected in the quiet room.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. The number was unfamiliar - no name, no location, just a string of numbers.
His expression turned serious as he greeted, "Hello..."
"I'll put you in a coffin next to your friend if you keep up your little investigation...."
"Excuse me..."
The line had already died.
"You alright?"
"Yeah... Wrong number."