The Recall Trials Chapter 58: The Death of Vincent Aston

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes shot open.

Not my room. Not any room I’d ever seen.

A soft white glow pulsed above . The ceiling was curved, sterile. A do of synthetic light, smooth as porcelain.

I couldn’t move.

My wrists were strapped down with thick tal cuffs. Sa with my ankles. A steel band pressed against my chest, holding flat to the cold, surgical table beneath . Tubes ran from my neck into sothing behind the table. And sothing cold ice-cold was inside my spine.

I tried to scream.

I couldn’t.

A tallic gag covered my mouth. Panic surged. My lungs pumped like I’d just run for miles.

Where the hell am I?

I blinked.

And then I saw them.

Figures. Blurred at first, silhouettes moving behind fogged glass. Then closer. n and won in white coats. Full face masks. Blue gloves.

One held a needle the size of a pen. Another typing furiously into a touchscreen. I heard snippets of code...

"Personality data dump in progress... initiating mory isolation... inject sequence 11-B..."

"Neural sync unstable. He’s not reacting like the others."

"Do it fast. Before he wakes up."

My spine flared...hot pain. My vision blurred at the edges. Blood roared in my ears. I could feel sothing crawling through my mind, rewriting like I was just code. Like I was never human at all.

One scientist stepped forward with the needle.

"Restrain him!" another barked.

"He’s pushing through sedation—"

Too late.

A growl ripped from my throat like an animal.

Then scread

I snapped the gag with my jaw, tore it from my mouth, spat tal shards to the floor.

"You think you can play with my mind?!"

I slamd my arms upward and one of the wrist restraints snapped. I ripped free the other. Kicked the tray of tools across the room glass shattered.

The scientists scattered.

"Shut it down!" one shouted, diving for a red button.

"Lock the program...contain the subject!"

But the room wasn’t real anymore. I could feel it.

The walls around glitched. Like holograms. Code flickered across the air like smoke.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ?!" I roared.

A voice.

But not from the speakers. Not from the walls.

Inside my head.

"Good morning, Vincent."

"You always were stronger than the others."

I froze.

My heart stopped for a beat. Sweat slicked my neck.

One wall blinked and dissolved completely into a massive digital screen.

It flickered.

"Show yourself!" I shouted, backing up.

"This is ."

"I’m inside you now. We just opened a few doors in your head."

"And you helped...opened them so beautifully."

Suddenly, the simulation collapsed. The walls retracted. The tallic table evaporated into the floor. And I was standing barefoot on a flat white surface that stretched endlessly in every direction.

Except for the screen.

It sparked, then settled into a new image.

A room.

Dark cold room.

And in the center of it....Jojo.

Tied to a chair. Arms wrenched behind her. Her face swollen, bruised. Her hair stuck to her cheek with blood. Head bowed. Eyes closed.

My heart cracked open.

"Jojo..." I yelled.

"She’s alive," the voice said. "For now."

"But that depends on you."

I stepped forward. Rage burned behind my eyes. My fists shook.

"What the hell do you want from ?! Why are you doing this?!"

The screen glitched again.

Now it showed footage. Surveillance.

Jojo and . Whispering. The extinguisher. The plan. The distraction. Our entire conversation. Every move. Every word.

We were watched. All of it.

"Did you think we wouldn’t know?"

"We’ve been listening. Every betrayal. Every whisper. Every breath."

I staggered back.

"You said no one dies this round," I growled. "You said it was psychological...no blood, no bodies."

"Oh, Vincent..." The voice chuckled. "It was. Until you broke the rules."

From above, sothing lowered from the void.

A chair.

Like a throne waiting for a prisoner.

"You have one chance."

"One seat. One decision."

I didn’t move.

"What happens if I sit?"

"You stay. Willingly. We erase the parts of you that resist. The rebel. The fighter. The leader."

"We make you...the perfect elite boy from sector A."

"You’ll forget the pain. The grief. Forget Jojo. Forget Zaara."

"Forget who you are."

My chest rose and fell.

Jojo raised her head.

Her lips cracked open.

"Don’t... you dare."

I yelled.

"You bastards," I hissed. "You think I’ll just give up? Let you rewrite ?"

"No," the voice said calmly. "I think you’ll choose."

My hand hovered above the chair. Inches from surrender.

Then I turned to the screen.

"You’re gonna regret this," I said.

And I punched the white wall beside .

It cracked.

"I am not your puppet," I growled.

"Not your subject."

"Not your fucking experint."

Red lights blared.

Alarms scread.

The screen with Jojo began to stutter...her image was breaking up

"Hold on, Jojo," I whispered.

I stood before the chair...the throne of surrender, or rebirth, I didn’t know which yet.

I stared at it. Every nerve in my body scread not to sit. Every instinct told this was the mont....the one that changed everything.

"What happens if I sit?"

"Then we let Jojo live. The others too. You’ll be returned to the ga. No questions. No consequences."

"What’s the catch?"

A pause.

"The price... is you."

"Fine," I said. "But we make a deal."

Silent.

"Speak."

" Zaara lives. Jojo lives. Carter. Nomi. Even the ones I hate."

"You don’t touch them again."

A pause.

"And in exchange?"

I stepped closer.

"You get ."

"All of ." I sighed.

"Done."

I sat.

The mont my spine touched the chair, sothing deep inside ... shattered.

Erasure Sequence Initiated.

My pupils dilated. My heartbeat slowed.

"Finalizing sequence," the system said.

"Subject: Vincent Aston."

"File locked: Code Serpent."

The screen flickered off.

Then, everything turned black.

A whisper. Not through speakers...but in my mind.

The flood began.

I saw my father first...his face blurry, shouting sothing I couldn’t hear. Then gone.