Caleb Vaughn glanced around the room.
Mina was reviewing Agent Blake's psychological profile, Ayla was fine-tuning the neural sensor prototype on her wrist, and Jesse stared at a wall of data with the focus of a man trying to decode the universe.
Caleb narrowed his eyes.
"Where's that kid?"
Mina looked up, puzzled. "Who?"
"The one in the red shirt yesterday. Loudmouth. Looked like a lost intern—Tyler."
Jesse replied without turning. "He's been gone since the briefing. Left no message. No contact number on file. And most of his official records are... falsified."
Ayla added dryly, "He said 'freestyle.' Now he's... freestyling."
Caleb let out a long breath. "If he's that unpredictable, why the hell is he on this team?"
Meanwhile, Tyler Reeve stood in the doorway of his apartment.
The door was forced open.
The place was trashed— but not in the usual way.
Chairs flipped, books reorganized alphabetically... in reverse. His fridge stood wide open, and a sticky note was slapped on the door:
"Still keeping frozen curry from three weeks ago? Gross."
"Clown job," Tyler muttered, shaking his head.
But the grin disappeared when he checked a hidden drawer behind his bookshelf.
Inside: a stack of classified files labeled "Closed – Off Record."
His fingers flipped quickly.
– Lisbon Ops
– Warsaw Hack
– Lagos Infiltration
– …
Then he froze.
One file was missing.
"Case N°08 – Kinshasa, 2017 – MIND TRANSFER TECH (UNCONFIRMED)"
His jaw tightened.
"Of course. That's what they wanted."
Without hesitation, he grabbed his shoulder bag and vanished out the door.
Hours later, the door to the Helix team room creaked open.
Tyler stepped in quietly.
No smart remark.
No chewing gum.
He dropped into his chair, head low, hands rubbing his face.
Mina glanced at him, but said nothing.
Ayla glanced for a heartbeat, then returned to tinkering.
Jesse, unsurprisingly, was the one who broke the silence.
He approached, sitting across from Tyler with his usual blank expression.
"What happened? Why show up now?"
Tyler didn't answer at first. His eyes locked onto the dead screen in front of him, as if trying to remember who he was.
Finally, he spoke.
"My apartment was torn apart. But not like a robbery. They were looking for something."
"What?" Jesse asked.
"An old file. About an op in Kinshasa, 2017. I was involved in an off-record mission tracking a rogue scientist who claimed he could transfer human consciousness between bodies."
"And the file's gone?"
Tyler nodded.
"Someone knew I kept a copy. They got in without leaving a trace—only people with training could've done it. That tech was supposed to be shut down. But if they're stealing records now..."
Jesse leaned in slightly. "You think they're using it again?"
Tyler finally looked him in the eye—serious, intense.
"I think this isn't just about hunting a killer."
"It's about hunting the fake versions of people we thought we knew."
Jesse's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Palimpsest."
A few minutes after Tyler returned, the door swung open again.
Caleb Vaughn walked in, carrying a large paper bag from the underground cafeteria. The warm scent of toasted sandwiches, eggs, bacon, and buttery bread immediately filled the room.
"Figured you all needed fuel besides paranoia and encrypted files," Caleb muttered dryly, dropping the bag on the central table.
Heads turned instantly.
Ayla paused mid-tinker.
Mina set her tablet down.
Jesse even lifted his eyes from the screen.
"Any coffee?" Jesse asked without looking.
Caleb tossed him a cup. Jesse caught it effortlessly, eyes still locked on his tablet.
Tyler, unsurprisingly, was the fastest to react. He grabbed two sandwiches, dropped into the corner seat, and started devouring them like he hadn't eaten in days.
Caleb sat nearby, watching him quietly.
The way Tyler sat casually…
The wild, slightly chaotic way he chewed…
That crooked little grin—it all sparked something in Caleb's memory.
Long ago, when Caleb was still a teenager, his father once told him about a younger half-brother—separated from the family as a baby.
A child born in secrecy from a complicated relationship, hidden because of the Vaughn family's dark political ties. Taken away. Disappeared. Never seen again.
"His name might be different," his father had said.
"But you'll know him if you ever meet. Just look into his eyes. They'll be like yours—cold, sharp... but behind them, always hiding a wound."
Caleb blinked the thought away, returning to the room.
He glanced at Tyler, who was halfway through a sandwich and flicking a bottle cap between his fingers.
"Where did you disappear to earlier?" Caleb asked casually.
Tyler looked up from the sandwich, mouth half-full.
"My apartment. Someone tore through it."
"Burglars?"
"Not burglars. They were looking for something. A file. One that should've been buried in 2017. About a mind-transfer experiment."
"Kinshasa?"
Tyler raised a brow, surprised.
"You know about that?"
Caleb didn't answer right away. He just stared into his coffee, slowly spinning the cup.
"I know enough… to be afraid that file's still in circulation."
Tyler took another bite, chewing thoughtfully.
"Well, now it's not just in circulation. It's missing. And the way they searched my place? They weren't amateurs. Someone wants that tech revived. And I'm one of the few left who remembers what really happened."
The rest of the team had stopped what they were doing.
Mina observed Tyler closely, her eyes narrowing.
Ayla was already typing rapidly into her handheld.
Jesse began scrolling a new search string.
Caleb leaned back slightly, voice low but firm.
"Tyler... your birth name. Do you remember it?"
Tyler paused.
Then grinned, chewing the last of his sandwich.
"No clue. Lived in a group home from age four to ten. 'Reeve' was a name given by a social worker. Before that? They just called me 'troublemaker.' Why do you ask?"
Caleb stared at him.
Saying nothing—but inside, a storm was starting to brew.
"Could it be... him?"
Suddenly, Tyler stopped chewing and looked straight at Mina.
His expression had shifted—no longer playful or sarcastic. This time, it was serious. Focused. Like someone who'd just realized a memory might not be what it seemed.
"Mina..." he said softly.
"Do you remember me?"
Everyone turned to look.
Mina Ashford blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
Tyler adjusted in his seat, now fully facing her. His voice trembled slightly with hesitation, but he pushed forward.
"Back when we were in school. I… I had a crush on you. I once gave you a love letter. Slipped it into one of the psychology books in the library—blue paper, folded diagonally. You never replied."
Mina's brow furrowed in disbelief.
"I'm sorry... but I never received any letter. I would've remembered something like that."
Tyler stared, clearly rattled.
"But I remember it. Your uniform. The way the classroom windows faced west. The smell of old paper in that library—"
Mina shook her head slowly.
"I went to school in England. Bath, specifically. Boarding school. I never studied in the States."
Silence gripped the room like a vice.
Then Mina asked, cautiously.
"Where did you go to school, Tyler?"
Tyler paused. His mouth opened slightly... then closed. His eyes flickered, confused.
"I… don't know. I can't remember."
The tension snapped like a wire.
Jesse Lorne raised an eyebrow, speaking in his ever-flat, analytical tone.
"You don't remember where you went to school, but you claim to recall growing up in an orphanage from age four to ten? That's inconsistent. Childhood memory usually forms with basic continuity."
Tyler rubbed his forehead, his earlier confidence draining fast.
Caleb Vaughn, who had been silent, finally spoke up—his voice low, serious.
"A fake memory."
Everyone turned to him.
Caleb stood slowly, arms crossed, eyes locked on Tyler—and then on the rest of the team.
"This makes sense only if someone implanted false memories into Tyler's mind. Not large ones, just… small, emotional fragments. Enough to make him feel connected to someone in the team. In this case, Mina."
Ayla chimed in, her voice calm but sharp.
"Emotional tether. Like a subconscious anchor. Something the brain trusts without knowing why."
Caleb nodded grimly.
"Maybe someone behind the scenes didn't believe this team would work naturally. So they injected fabricated emotional bonds into Tyler—forcing him to trust Mina from the start."
Tyler stared at them all, eyes wide.
"You're saying... someone messed with my head? Planted feelings in me?"
Jesse looked at him, calculating.
"If the mind-transfer technology from Kinshasa was real... implanting minor emotional triggers would've been the easy part. The untraceable part."
Mina kept staring at Tyler—her expression softening from confusion to concern.
"So you think you know me. But maybe you never did."
Tyler met her gaze, voice cracking slightly.
"Or maybe... I did. And you're the one who got reset."
Silence followed. Heavy. Dense.
Too many questions. Too few answers.
And one thing had become very clear:
It wasn't just the mission being sabotaged anymore—someone was rewriting their identities. From the inside.