Southport was where the city's echoes went to die.
Crumbling buildings stood like forgotten tombstones. The air smelled of rust and hopelessness. Mira walked beside Eli, quiet but alert, her hand clutching the old notebook like a talisman.
Eli's heart pounded. The system's timer hadn't moved much.
> Time Remaining: 18:47:03
Objective: Alter the Fate of Jericho Lang
Current Probability of Change: 14%
They followed the directions until they reached a low, run-down shelter with bars on the windows. A hand-painted sign hung crooked above the door: Southport Outreach – Hope Is Not a Crime.
Inside, they found a woman sorting canned goods.
She looked up as they entered. "Help you?"
"We're looking for Jericho Lang," Eli said.
The woman's face froze. "He doesn't like visitors."
"We don't want trouble," Mira added. "We just need to talk."
She stared at them a moment longer, then nodded toward a back hallway. "Third room. Don't get too close. He's... unpredictable."
As they walked the dim corridor, Eli's vision shimmered with a new prompt:
> Psychological Profile Updated: PTSD, Disassociation, Survivor's Guilt
Trigger Word: "Order"
Key Variable: Daughter – deceased
Potential Influence Anchor: Guilt pathway, paternal instinct
They reached the door.
Mira paused. "You okay?"
"No," Eli admitted, then knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again. "Jericho? I just want to talk."
Still nothing.
Eli slowly pushed the door open.
Inside, a man sat on a metal-framed bed, hunched over. His face was gaunt, eyes bloodshot. Military tattoos crawled down his arms. His hands clenched and unclenched as if gripping something invisible.
He didn't look up. "Get out."
"I'm not here to hurt you."
"Then leave."
Eli stepped inside. "Your name came to me. I think you're in danger."
That made Jericho laugh—bitter and broken.
"We're all in danger, kid. Some of us just stopped pretending we aren't."
Eli took a breath. "You lost someone. A daughter."
That froze him.
His fists went still. His breathing stopped.
"I said—get out."
Eli didn't move. "I'm sorry. But she mattered. And I think... I think you still do too."
Jericho turned slowly. His eyes burned with fury. "You don't know me. You don't know what I did."
"I know you're trying to forget. But forgetting doesn't erase the pain."
Jericho surged forward, grabbing Eli by the collar and slamming him into the wall.
"You wanna feel pain?! I live in it!"
Mira cried out, stepping forward, but Eli raised a hand.
"I'm not here to judge you. I'm here because I think you're being watched."
Jericho's grip loosened. "What?"
"There's something happening. To people like us. People who've suffered. People the world doesn't notice anymore."
He released him, stumbling back to the bed like the fight had drained out of him.
"I see her, you know," he whispered. "Every night. Standing at the door. Saying, 'Come home, Daddy.' But I can't."
Eli sat across from him. "Maybe there's still a way to make it right."
Jericho looked at him, something fragile breaking in his eyes.
The system chimed:
> Influence Spike Detected
Probability of Change: 41%
Emotional Anchor Established: Regret
"You said someone's watching?" Jericho asked, voice hollow.
"Yes. And I think they want us broken. Passive. I think they want people like us to disappear quietly."
Jericho nodded slowly. "Then maybe it's time we stop hiding."
Outside, the sky had turned ash-gray.
Eli stood, offering a hand. "Come with us."
Jericho hesitated—then took it.
> Target Status: ACCEPTED PATH TO REDEMPTION
Progress: 2 of 10 Lives Changed
Reward: +1 Insight
Unlocked Trait: Empathic Resonance (Passive)
Description: Your words now hold 10% increased impact on trauma-affected individuals.
As they walked out of the shelter together, Mira whispered, "How many more like him do you think there are?"
Eli glanced at the timer, ticking down.
"Enough to fill a war," he said. "And we've just begun recruiting."