Andrew Gates POV
It wasn't exactly a fair fight—especially when I was on the losing side.
My leg was injured, and there was a bullet buried in me. How was I supposed to fight a desperate man who was still strong, healthy, and full of energy?
As he charged toward me, rage burning in his eyes, I raised my hand, signaling surrender.
"You win," I yelled through the pain. "Please... just go. Escape."
"What?" Jason Hitchcock stopped, staring at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Only one of us is supposed to leave this room alive."
His expression twisted into something almost joyful.
"So what do you want me to do?"
My voice trembled as I struggled to remain conscious.
"Just go. I'll take care of myself."
My vision began to blur. My eyelids grew heavy, and a wave of exhaustion washed over me.
Slowly, I lowered myself onto the floor and lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.
For the first time in what felt like many days, I felt peaceful.
No fear.
No pain.
Just... contentment.
"Gates..."
Hitchcock's voice became distant, fading into the darkness.
Then everything changed.
The room disappeared.
I found myself sitting at a table surrounded by detectives—people I had worked with, trusted, and called friends back at the precinct.
The atmosphere was warm, almost nostalgic.
"Why so grumpy?" a familiar voice said.
I looked up.
Waller Greene was sitting across from me, a faint smile on his face.
"Come on. Feast in."
His words jolted something awake inside me.
For the first time in a long while...
I smiled.
I stared at Waller for a moment, unable to understand where I was.
The precinct was strangely quiet. No ringing phones. No footsteps rushing through the halls. No voices coming from the interrogation rooms.
Just silence.
Waller leaned back in his chair, studying me.
"You look terrible, Gates."
I chuckled weakly.
"Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you."
He smiled.
"Still got that attitude."
I looked around the table. The other detectives were laughing, eating, and talking among themselves as though nothing in the world mattered.
For a moment, I wanted to stay.
I wanted to believe this was real.
"Waller..."
"Hmm?"
"Am I dead?"
His smile disappeared.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"Do you want to be?"
I remained silent.
"I don't know anymore."
Waller stared at me for a long moment.
"You've spent too much time thinking about what you've lost, Gates."
My eyes narrowed.
"What are you talking about?"
"Your friends. Your career. The people you couldn't save. The things you've done."
His voice became softer.
"You've been carrying all of it like it's a sentence."
I lowered my gaze.
"Maybe it is."
"No."
Waller's answer came immediately.
"That's where you're wrong."
He stood from his chair and walked around the table.
"Your past isn't a prison unless you decide to live inside it."
I looked up at him.
"You think I can just forget everything?"
"Of course not."
He stopped in front of me.
"I'm telling you to remember it differently."
I frowned.
Waller continued.
"Every mistake you've made, every person you've lost, every time you've failed... those things don't have to define you."
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"They can become the reason you change."
I swallowed hard.
"And what if I'm already too far gone?"
"Then walk back."
His words struck deeper than I expected.
"You've spent your entire life trying to become strong enough to survive."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"But that's not your true potential, Gates."
The room suddenly felt colder.
"Your potential isn't becoming stronger than everyone else."
Waller's voice echoed through the room.
"It's becoming someone who doesn't need to destroy himself just to prove that he's strong."
I stared at him.
"You can still become better."
He smiled faintly.
"Better than the man you were yesterday."
I looked down at my hands.
For the first time, I noticed they weren't trembling anymore.
"Do you really believe that?"
"I wouldn't be telling you if I didn't."
I looked back at him.
"What if I fail?"
Waller laughed softly.
"Then fail."
I blinked.
"Get back up and fail again."
His expression became serious.
"Just don't stop walking."
The detectives around us suddenly became quiet.
I glanced toward them.
Something felt wrong.
One of the detectives slowly stood from his chair.
I couldn't see his face clearly.
"Waller..."
He didn't answer.
The detective reached beneath his jacket.
My heart stopped.
"Wait!"
He pulled out a gun.
BANG!
Pain exploded through my chest.
I looked down.
Blood spread across my shirt.
The entire room vanished into darkness.
---
I gasped.
My eyes shot open.
I was staring at a ceiling I didn't recognize.
My body felt impossibly heavy.
Sheets covered me from the waist down, and something was wrapped tightly around my leg.
I tried to move.
Pain immediately shot through my body.
"Don't move."
A woman's voice came from beside me.
I turned my head slowly.
A woman stood beside the bed, holding a small bowl and a piece of cloth. She looked to be in her late thirties, perhaps early forties.
She noticed my confusion.
"You're safe."
I struggled to speak.
"Where..."
My throat was painfully dry.
"Where am I?"
She placed the bowl down and adjusted the sheets around me.
"You've been unconscious for quite some time."
I stared at her.
"Who are you?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering.
"My name is Martha."
She gave me a faint, reassuring smile.
"Martha Grey."
I tried to process her words.
"Martha..."
My vision suddenly began to blur.
The room started spinning.
"Gates?"
Her voice became distant.
I tried to keep my eyes open.
"Martha Grey..."
I repeated the name quietly.
Then everything went black.