The sky was still smudged with darkness as the trio approached the outskirts of the facility. Nestled deep in a forest clearing, The Cell's headquarters pulsed with artificial life—security drones circling, guards in sleek armor pacing the perimeter. But none of that mattered anymore.
Dave stood still for a moment, staring at the fortress he once helped build.
"This is where it ends," he said softly, the finality in his voice unmistakable.
Emma turned to him. "You're sure the charges will work?"
"They'll do more than work," he said, pulling a detonator from his coat. "They'll wipe every trace of this place off the map. Every hard drive. Every lab. Every memory chamber they ever used to hurt someone like you."
Nathan adjusted the bag on his back, eyes anxious. "What about us? We're going in blind."
Dave looked at Emma. "You don't need your powers to finish this. Just your courage."
Emma blinked. "What do you mean?"
He didn't answer. He just smiled—and it scared her. It was the kind of smile someone wore when they already knew they weren't coming back.
They split at the gates. Emma and Nathan went underground, following Dave's old escape route. Dave entered through the front, wearing a stolen uniform and a calm face.
The plan was chaos. Fast. Dirty. Effective.
But things went wrong.
The guards noticed. An alarm screamed. Lights pulsed red.
Emma made it to the mainframe chamber, where Dave's blueprint bombs had already been set. She saw his handwriting on the wall in permanent marker: "Burn the past."
She pressed the detonator—and the building began to shake.
But Dave never appeared.
"Dave!" she screamed into the comms. "Get out! It's time!"
Static.
And then his voice, just once.
"Run!"
The building exploded behind them. A sky full of orange fire and ash. The Cell collapsed inward, swallowed by its own secrets.
Days passed.
Emma woke up on the couch back home, her head throbbing. The dreams were gone. The voices, the flickers, the memories that weren't hers—they had all vanished.
She was alone in her mind for the first time.
"You okay?" Nathan asked, handing her a glass of water.
She nodded. "Yeah. I think… I think it's over. I can't feel them anymore."
They sat in silence. The house was a wreck—books scattered, walls scuffed, broken glass glittering on the floor.
And then—
The front door creaked open.
"Emma?" came a familiar voice.
Aunt Bertha stepped inside, grocery bags in her hands, eyes wide with confusion. "What on earth—?"
She froze when she saw the state of the house. And Emma. And Nathan.
"What happened here?" she whispered.
Emma looked at her, hollow but calm. "The truth, Aunt Bertha. The kind you can't keep in a box."