Chapter 1: I Still Missed You
The sky was a bruised canvas of charcoal and slate, hanging low and heavy over the cemetery. It was the kind of day that felt like a held breath, the air thick with the promise of a downpour that hadn't yet broken.
A man in a stark black suit stood amidst the sea of grey headstones. The fabric of his jacket was damp, clinging slightly to his broad shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice the biting chill in the wind. He stood with the rigid posture of a soldier, yet his head was bowed, his eyes hidden behind the shadow of his hair.
He was standing before a plot of land that was better tended than the rest. The grass was greener here, meticulously cut, and the marble was polished to a shine that reflected the gloomy sky.
The inscription was simple, yet it carried the weight of a legacy that had once carried the hopes of an entire squad.
↳Here Lies Melissa ThompsonThe Greatest Captain That Ever LivedAnd the Best Girlfriend Ever.
Damien stared at the letters until they blurred. Five years. It felt like five seconds and five centuries all at once. The pain wasn't a sharp stab anymore; it had become a dull, chronic ache in his bones, a background noise that never quite went away.
"It's been like... five years, Mel," Damien whispered, his voice cracking against the silence of the graveyard. "To be honest, I really missed you. Our squad... they missed you too. Every single day."
He crouched down, his knees popping slightly, and brushed a stray dead leaf from the base of the headstone. His fingers lingered on the cold stone, tracing her name.
"It's my fault, Mel," he choked out, the familiar mantra of guilt spilling from his lips. "If I could just join you in the afterlife... I may have already done it. But the squad... they don't want me to die, y'know? And I know you." A sad, broken chuckle escaped him. "I know you would kill me yourself in the afterlife if I showed up early."
From inside his coat, he pulled out a bouquet. They weren't the traditional white roses of mourning. They were violets—vibrant, deep, and full of life. Her favorite color. He placed them gently against the cold marble, arranging them so they stood tall against the grey backdrop.
'She always hated white roses,' Damien thought, a fleeting image of Melissa scrunching her nose at a gala flashing through his mind. 'Said they looked like surrender. She never surrendered.'
He let out a long, shuddering sigh, the sound scraping against his throat. The memories came then, unbidden and overwhelming. He remembered the sound of the dungeon alarms, the smell of ozone and rotting flesh, and the terrifying, impossible pressure of the S+ Class Monster.
He remembered her back. That was the last thing he saw—her back, standing between him and the abyss.
"I'm really sorry, y'know," Damien murmured, staring at the violets. "I was weak. That damn S+ Class Monster... it was really strong. Too strong for us. Too strong for me."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver lighter and a cigar. His hands trembled slightly as he brought the flame to the tip. He took a long drag, the cherry burning bright orange, and held the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling a thick, grey plume that swirled into the darkening sky.
Smell of tobacco. Smell of rain. Smell of regret.
"I know you don't want to listen to self-blame again," he said, watching the smoke dissipate. "I know you'd slap the back of my head if you were here. But I just can't stop, Melissa. I really can't. You were my whole meaning of life. After you saved me from that darkness I was drowned in... I can't pay back what you did for me. I'm just... adrift."
He smoked in silence for a while. The wind picked up, rustling the trees at the edge of the cemetery, whispering through the leaves like a thousand quiet voices.
'You saved me from the gutter, Mel. You took a broken recruit with nothing to lose and gave him a reason to fight. And then you died protecting that reason.'
He looked up. The clouds were churning now, dark and angry. A single drop of rain landed on his cheek, cold and sharp, mingling with the moisture that was already there.
"Hmm," he grunted, checking his watch. "Seems the sky agrees with my mood. It's going to rain. I should go now, Melissa."
He took one last drag, savored the burn, and then tossed the cigar to the damp earth. He ground it out with the heel of his expensive dress shoe, burying the embers.
He hesitated. Leaving felt like abandoning her all over again. It always did.
"Though, I'm really not sure if this is my last visit," he admitted softly. "If I'm being honest, I don't know how much longer I can do this."
Damien looked back at the grave one last time. He etched the image of the violets against the grey stone into his mind. It was a picture of beauty amidst despair.
"You're the greatest gift I have ever received," he said, his voice firming up, regaining a sliver of the command he used to hold. "And yet, losing you is my deepest regret, Melissa. Goodbye, my dear love."
---
As he turned and began the long walk back to the parking lot, the heavens opened. It didn't start as a drizzle; it began as a deluge. The rain hammered down, instantly soaking his suit, plastering his hair to his forehead. Behind him, the violet flowers were beaten down by the heavy rainfall, their petals trembling under the assault, but they remained rooted.
The interior of the Nissan GTR was a sanctuary of leather and silence, sealed off from the torrential rain outside. Damien sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. The engine was idling, a low, powerful rumble that vibrated through the chassis, begging to be unleashed.
He stared through the windshield as the wipers frantically slapped away the water. He didn't move to put the car in gear. Instead, he looked at his phone, which was mounted on the dashboard.
The screen was lit up with a cascade of notifications.
[4 Missed Calls from Ricky][2 Missed Calls from HQ]
He unlocked the screen and opened the messaging app. The texts were frantic.
Ricky:Hey Captain, the Commander called us already. He said it's urgent. Where are you?!
Ricky:Damien, my buddy, the Commander is losing his mind. Hurry up already!
Ricky:Damien..........
Ricky:Dude, pick up.
Damien stared at the glowing text, feeling a disconnect from the urgency.
'Seems it's urgent,' he thought, his mind sluggish. 'Though what's the reason? Another breach? A political stunt?'
He swiped to the next message.
Ricky:Damien, seriously. Don't do anything stupid. Just get to the Pentagon.
Damien let out a heavy sigh, leaning his head back against the headrest. 'Whatever. Let's just go and finish whatever this urgent meeting is. Then I can go home and stare at the wall.'
He shifted the GTR into gear. The car leaped forward, the tires struggling for traction on the wet asphalt for a split second before gripping. He tore out of the cemetery parking lot, the mournful place disappearing in his rearview mirror, replaced by the blur of the city.
The drive to the Pentagon was a blur of grey highway and red taillights. Damien drove with a reckless precision, weaving through traffic, the power of the engine serving as a temporary outlet for his frustration. He wanted to outrun his thoughts, but the GTR, for all its horsepower, wasn't fast enough for that.
When he arrived at the massive, imposing structure of the defense headquarters, he didn't bother with an umbrella. He walked from the parking garage to the entrance, ignoring the rain that spotted his shirt.
Inside, the air was recycled and sterile. He moved to the locker rooms, his movements mechanical. He stripped off the soaked black suit—the funeral suit—and pulled on his Service Uniform. The fabric was stiff, familiar. The medals on the chest chimed softly. He looked in the mirror.
The man staring back had hollow eyes, but the jaw was set. He slicked his wet hair back, forcing it into a semblance of regulation order.
"Captain," a passing soldier nodded nervously.
Damien didn't respond. He just walked toward the briefing room.
Outside the heavy oak doors, a figure was pacing back and forth. It was Ricky.
Ricky looked up, relief washing over his face, quickly replaced by agitation.
"Damien! My brother, why are you so late, huh?" Ricky stepped forward, raising his hand for their customary dap—a handshake that turned into a shoulder bump.
Damien walked right past him. He didn't even look at the hand.
Ricky's hand stayed in the air for a moment, hovering in the empty space, before he dropped it. He turned, confused and hurt, jogging to catch up with Damien's long strides.
"Hey, Damien, what the hell? Are you not in the mood today?" Ricky asked, his voice echoing slightly in the corridor.
Damien didn't answer. He stopped at a reflective glass pane in the hallway, adjusting his collar. He needed to look perfect. He needed to look like he hadn't just been crying in a graveyard.
Ricky watched him, the realization slowly dawning on his face. He looked at the date on his watch, then back at Damien's red-rimmed eyes.
"Hey..." Ricky's voice softened, losing its joking edge. "Is it because we disturbed you visiting Melissa's grave? Ohh, come on, man. It's not my fault our stingy Commander called us?! I tried to stall him!"
Damien froze. The adjustment of his collar stopped. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. The anger, hot and sudden, flared up in his chest, burning away the numbness.
He spun around, slamming his hand against the wall next to the glass.
"Yes!" Damien roared. The sound echoed down the corridor, making a nearby clerk jump and scurry away.
"I was supposed to visit Melissa's parents today!" Damien shouted, stepping into Ricky's space. "Because it's her fucking birthday! And at the same time, it's her Death Anniversary! Five years, Ricky! I wanted to sit with them, to drink tea, to remember her. And yet I couldn't celebrate her birthday or at least mourn her properly because of my damn responsibilities! Because of this!" He gestured violently at his uniform.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Ricky stood his ground, though he flinched at the raw fury in Damien's eyes. He looked at his longtime buddy, his brother not by blood but by comradeship forged in the fires of hellish dungeons. He realized then exactly what day it was.
'Shit,' Ricky thought. 'I knew it was the anniversary. But I forgot about the parents. He never misses the visit to the parents.'
Ricky saw past the anger. He saw the devastation. He knew how the squad idolized Melissa—she was the sun they all orbited around. But for Damien? She wasn't just a Captain. She was the anchor that kept him from drifting into the void. When she died, confirmed by a bloodied ID tag and a closed casket, the squad wept. But Damien? Damien shattered.
Ricky remembered the nights he had spent breaking down Damien's door. He remembered pulling the gun out of Damien's mouth. He remembered holding him down while he screamed until his voice was gone.
Damien loved Melissa. But 'love' was too small a word. Ricky would bet his life that Damien would sacrifice the entire world, burn every city to ash, just to go back in time five years and push Melissa out of the way of that attack.
And Ricky knew who Damien really blamed. It wasn't just himself. It was the Hunters. The mercenaries. The glory hounds who had triggered the boss room early, looking for loot, and left the military squad to cover their retreat.
Ricky took a deep breath. He didn't back down. He stepped closer.
"Damien," Ricky said, his voice low and steady. "I... I'm sorry for Melissa's death. I know it really destroyed you when you learned she was gone. I can't even fathom the pain you experience every time you wake up without her."
Damien's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving.
"I even saw you try to commit suicide many times," Ricky continued, his eyes locked on Damien's. "I saved your ass from pulling that trigger more times than I can count. But listen to me... that doesn't mean you are the only one who grieves her."
Damien blinked, his anger faltering slightly under Ricky's intense gaze.
"I was distraught too, man!" Ricky's voice cracked. "The whole squad... we were broken. We loved Melissa. She was our leader. So please... it pains me. It kills me seeing you suffer like this, seeing you unable to move an inch forward after five years."
Ricky stepped in and wrapped his arms around Damien in a bear hug. It wasn't a formal embrace; it was a desperate clutch of two men trying to keep each other upright.
"You're my brother," Ricky whispered into Damien's ear. "Not maybe by blood, but because you genuinely see me as a brother too. And the whole squad... I know you see us as your family. So please."
Ricky squeezed him tighter. Damien's arms slowly came up, returning the hug, the tension leaking out of his frame.
"It pains me seeing you suffering and mourning her death alone," Ricky said. "So please, can you not show this face to our squad? Alright? Just for today?"
Ricky pulled back, keeping his hands on Damien's shoulders. "Us too... we can't move on after her death. It still pains us. And I know you still blame those fucking Hunters for failing to save her. I know you hate that instead of those bastards saving us, Melissa sacrificed herself to save them and us."
Damien looked down at the floor, the fight leaving him. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I blame them. I'll always blame them."
"I know," Ricky said softly. "But right now, the squad needs their Captain. The current one. They need you."
"Thank you, Damien," Ricky said, patting his cheek lightly. "Come on, before that stingy Old Commander scolds us again. If we're late, he's going to have us scrubbing the latrines with toothbrushes."
Ricky put his hands on Damien's face, squishing his cheeks together comically, forcing the corners of his mouth upward.
"And smile sometimes, alright?" Ricky grinned, though his eyes were still sad. "If Captain Melissa sees this long face from the afterlife, she's gonna come down here and kick your ass. You know she hit harder than any monster."
Damien let out a short, breathy laugh. He pulled away, smoothing his uniform, and fixed his hair one last time. He put on the mask—the calm, collected face of a leader.
He nodded at Ricky.
"Thanks, brother," Damien said, his voice steady. "I really needed that."
Ricky smiled, a genuine, wide beam that lit up the gloomy hallway.
"You're welcome. After all, we're brothers," Ricky laughed, slapping Damien on the back. "Hahahahaha. Now let's go see what the old man wants."