Kiel stood in the dim, dream-like space, shadows swirling around him as if alive, closing in with a silent murmur. Across from him stood his doppelganger—a haunting figure with blue eyes ringed by pitch-black corneas. Their gazes met, and in that silent exchange, Kiel felt an understanding too deep for words, an echo of things both known and unknown. The silence stretched between them like a taut thread.
"It's funny," Kiel signed, his expression carrying a note of distant sadness. "After everything I've been through, my mind brings me here… of all places."
The alter's lips curled into a faint, understanding smile. "It was home, for a time," it said softly, a flicker of hesitation in its voice. "A place sheltered from the cruelty out there." There was no malice in its tone, only a mirror-like empathy that Kiel seldom found elsewhere.
As they spoke, fragments of memories rose between them, each piece tinged with both comfort and pain—echoes of a life buried but not forgotten. Kiel's gaze drifted past his alter, locking onto a large, ominous red door, the color vivid and striking against the dark surroundings. Something about that door called to him, a siren song of answers and agony, memories he'd spent a lifetime trying to forget.
He moved forward, but the alter's figure flickered, springing into his path, arms spread wide. Its blue eyes held a glint of desperation, something close to fear. "No," it insisted, voice tense with urgency. "That door holds memories better left untouched."
Kiel's expression hardened, his resolve kindling into a fierce glint in his eyes. "I need to know." He signed.
The alter hesitated, its empathy melting into a guarded sorrow, but it stepped aside. As Kiel slipped past, a sharp intake of breath echoed, almost as if the alter was in pain. But Kiel's hand was already gripping the cold brass handle. The door creaked open, and fragments of his past life flooded back, rushing over him with a raw, unfiltered intensity.
---
Years ago, barely in control of his abilities, Kiel had been taken in by the Rscp Foundation—a refuge that wore the thin disguise of imprisonment. His memories from that time were tangled and sharp-edged, bitterly mixed. And in the midst of it all, one figure stood out: Chief Raleigh Seroom O'hera. Raleigh became more than just a steady presence; he was a lifeline. He treated Kiel with compassion and care, a bond blossoming that felt almost like family. He visited often, never empty-handed, always bringing with him something small to show he cared. He even gave him a name: "Kieran," spoken with a pride that left its own indelible mark.
During those years, a bond like father and son grew between them. Raleigh spent countless hours by his side, not only training him but guiding him to understand the world beyond the Foundation's cold walls. He saw the boy's torment—a wild heart caged, yearning for freedom—and did everything he could to tame it, to help the boy Kaiju harness his power rather than fear it. And though his abilities grew volatile, Raleigh alone remained unafraid to stand close, to look into the storm brewing inside him.
But the Foundation grew wary of Raleigh's attachment. They took measures, ensuring his 'objectivity' wasn't compromised, and soon, their visits were suspended. The last time Kiel saw Raleigh, the Chief's face was etched with worry, his parting words filled with promises he could no longer keep. Afterward, they fitted Kiel with an inhibitor chip at the base of his skull—a device that seemed to hum and throb, masking his energy, thus forcing his abilities into a painful silence. And for a while, it worked. But Kiel's fear was replaced with despair as the researchers seized their chance to exploit his gifts, conducting endless experiments that left him more a specimen than a person.
Raleigh fought to get him out, but his pleas fell on deaf ears, met only with cold stares and hollow rejections. When his persistence drew threats, he still couldn't abandon the Kaijul. Not while the boy suffered under the guise of "containment."
In the darkness of his cell, hel heard whispers from passing researchers—cold stories of past containment breaches and the horrific ends of "monsters" who fought for freedom. The words seeped into him, mingling fear with the bitterness of captivity. They warned his fate would be no different if he resisted, if he even dared to hope.
Standing before the red door now, those memories surged, raw and sharp, mingling with a fresh wave of anger and grief. For all the cruelty he'd endured, one thing remained clear: Raleigh's efforts had been his only solace in that prison of science and fear.
---
Thunder reverberated through the walls, a violent sound that jolted Kiel from a restless half-sleep. His cell trembled with each rumbling echo, a sharp contrast to the droning hum of alarms. As the rain hammered against a tiny, reinforced window above, he sat up, his senses stirring with a strange urgency. Shadows stretched along the hallway outside, growing darker until a figure emerged, barely visible but beckoning him to rise.
Kiel blinked, struggling to make out the person's face, but a name lingered at the edge of memory. He rose unsteadily, his heartbeat quickening.
"Describe what you see. What else is there?" Kaname's voice urged him from the edge of memory.
Kiel clenched his fists, struggling to piece together the jagged recollections. "There's… someone there. I hear him talking. He's scared. It's… out of control," he gestured, barely managing to bring it into focus.
---
The Rscp Foundation's Site 13, a fortified facility sprawled miles outside Stonehaven, was built to contain the uncontainable. That day, a panicked staffer had triggered the emergency alarm after an unearthly roar shattered the quiet. The noise swelled, building into a thunderous crescendo as something massive hammered against the containment doors. With a final, deafening crash, the steel buckled, torn apart like paper under monstrous claws.
What emerged was a nightmare—a creature of towering proportions, its body a hulking mass of muscle and spikes, its mane a tangled mess, and its eyes aglow with primal hunger. It moved with terrifying speed, crossing the room before anyone could react. A researcher's face twisted in silent horror as the creature's hands wrapped around his throat. His skin paled, his body withering into a lifeless husk as the beast drained every drop of energy.
Guards flooded the room, firing rounds that tore through its flesh, yet the wounds knitted back instantly, the creature barely faltering. The monster's rage grew with each strike, its attacks precise and brutal, cutting down those who dared to face it. Guards who tried to flee were dragged back, crushed and discarded, left like broken dolls scattered across the blood-streaked floor.
In the center of it all, Kiel felt a strange, primal connection to the chaos—a dark mirror of his own struggles for freedom, the beast an echo of the monster he was so often feared to become.
Half awake, Kiel blinked through the haze, catching glimpses of someone roughly guiding him down an empty hallway. As his vision sharpened, he recognized the figure—it was Raleigh. The man he had seen so many times in fractured visions, his trench coat damp with rain, his eyes lined with urgency. They moved quickly, but what they were fleeing from remained a mystery.
Gunshots echoed behind them. Raleigh glanced back, his expression tense, motioning for Kiel to pick up the pace. After a frantic dash, they stopped before a door. In the midst of confusion, Kiel watched Raleigh swipe a security keycard, revealing a hidden room. The door sealed behind them, enclosing them within the accelerator array—a device rumored to alter time itself.
Raleigh moved quickly, his fingers flying across a control panel. Kiel lifted his hands, gesturing, What's happening? Why are we here?
Raleigh didn't answer at first, focused on the array. But Kiel's hands kept moving, his desperation finally breaking through Raleigh's silence. With a sigh, Raleigh turned, his face cast in shadow, and motioned: You need to go. I'm sending you far from here, somewhere safe.
Kiel froze, his hands dropping as disbelief and anger twisted his features. He signed with shaky fingers, Why? Why now? Why are you doing this?
Raleigh's eyes were filled with something unspoken, an apology too large for words. He reached out as if to touch Kiel's shoulder, hesitated, then signed back, his motions slow and final, Because I promised I'd protect you.
---
"Good. Good," Kaname coaxed from the sidelines, her voice a steady anchor. "Don't hold it back. Let it flow."
Kiel complied, surrendering to the torrent of memories that surfaced in jagged pieces, each one sharpened with pain and truth. He remembered everything—the raw, unfiltered truth he'd buried for so long, now forced into light.