Victor Kane adjusted his black gloves, their snug fit a habitual reassurance as he stepped into the dimly lit alley. The rain had slickened the pavement, turning it into a black mirror that reflected the neon glow of the city. He pulled up his hood, blending into the shadows. His target was close—he could feel it in the rhythmic thrum of his pulse, a steady drumbeat of inevitability.
Victor was the best at what he did, a meticulous hitman whose assignments never left loose ends. The only complication in his otherwise perfect record was a gnawing sense of déjà vu that had haunted him for months. Every hit, every city street, every shadowy corner—it all felt… rehearsed.
The target, a tech mogul named Marcus Holt, was holed up in a luxury high-rise. Holt had crossed the wrong people, and now Victor was here to balance the scales. He reached the building, bypassing security with ease. He didn’t know who his employer was—it was always a faceless intermediary—but the instructions were clear. Eliminate Holt, retrieve the encrypted drive, and leave no witnesses.
Victor reached the penthouse. The door clicked open, and he entered silently, his movements fluid and practiced. Holt was at his desk, bathed in the cold light of multiple monitors. Victor drew his silenced pistol, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.
Holt’s body slumped forward, but as Victor approached to retrieve the drive, something unexpected happened. The room flickered. The walls shimmered as if made of water, and the floor beneath him dissolved momentarily into a grid of glowing lines. Victor stumbled back, his heart racing.
“What the hell?” he muttered, clutching the edge of the desk to steady himself.
Suddenly, Holt’s body twitched. Not in the way bodies do in death, but as if rebooting. His head jerked up, his eyes glowing a faint blue.
“You’re not supposed to see this,” Holt said, his voice distorted and layered with static.
Victor stepped back, his gun trained on the man—or whatever he had become. “What are you?”
Holt grinned, a sickly unnatural stretch of his lips. “You’ve been asking the wrong question, Victor. It’s not about what I am. It’s about where you are.”
Before Victor could respond, the room dissolved entirely, leaving him standing in an endless void of white light. His weapon vanished from his hand, and his gloves disintegrated.
Victor blinked and found himself seated in a nondescript office. The walls were blank, the furniture minimalist. Across the desk sat a man in a gray suit, his face unsettlingly symmetrical, like a mannequin brought to life.
“Mr. Kane,” the man said with a professional smile. “Please, calm down. This must be disorienting for you.”
Victor shot to his feet, his fists clenched. “Where am I? What’s going on?”
“You’re still in the simulation,” the man replied smoothly. “But we had to intervene. You were beginning to experience anomalies. Side effects of prolonged immersion.”
“Simulation?” Victor repeated, the word tasting foreign in his mouth.
The man gestured to the chair. “Please, sit. It will be easier to explain if you’re not pacing.”
Victor hesitated but complied, his instincts screaming to be ready for an attack.
“Your world isn’t real,” the man began. “It’s a construct—a training ground for operatives like you. Your missions, your targets, even your memories—they’re all designed to hone your skills.”
Victor stared, his jaw tightening. “You’re saying I’m… what? A pawn in some virtual game?”
“Not a pawn,” the man corrected. “An asset. You are part of a very exclusive program to create the perfect operative. Your reactions, decisions, and emotions are monitored, analyzed, and refined. You are, quite literally, the best.”
The words didn’t feel like praise. They felt like chains tightening around him. “And the people I’ve killed? Were they real?”
“Some,” the man admitted. “Others were simulations, designed to test your limits. But rest assured, every action you’ve taken has been in service of a greater purpose.”
Victor’s hands curled into fists. “And what happens now? You wipe my memory and throw me back in?”
The man’s smile faltered. “Ordinarily, yes. But your recent anomaly has complicated matters. You’ve begun to… question the nature of your reality. That wasn’t supposed to happen for another few cycles.”
Victor leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. “So fix it. Erase the memories. Put me back.”
“That’s not possible,” the man said, his tone tinged with regret. “You’ve reached a level of self-awareness that cannot be undone. The simulation will no longer function correctly for you.”
“So what’s the alternative?”
The man hesitated, and for the first time, Victor saw uncertainty in his perfectly symmetrical face. “You have two options. We can extract you from the simulation entirely, though the real world may not be to your liking. Or…”
“Or what?”
“We terminate the program.”
Victor let the words sink in. “Terminate… me.”
The man nodded. “It would be painless. You’ve fulfilled your purpose.”
Victor laughed, a bitter sound. “You expect me to agree to that? To just let you pull the plug?”
“You’d be surprised how many do,” the man replied, his voice soft. “The real world is harsh, Mr. Kane. Many operatives prefer the peace of oblivion to the chaos of reality.”
Victor stood, his mind racing. The real world. What did that even mean anymore? Had he ever truly existed outside the simulation?
“I need time to think,” he said finally.
The man nodded. “Of course. Take as long as you need. But understand, the simulation is unstable now. Staying here indefinitely isn’t an option.”
Victor walked through the endless white void, his thoughts a maelstrom. If the simulation was collapsing, every moment he spent here was borrowed time. But what was waiting for him outside?
A sudden noise broke his reverie—a faint hum that grew louder. He turned to see a doorway materializing out of the void. Beyond it lay darkness, dotted with faint pinpricks of light.
Holt’s distorted voice echoed from behind him. “The choice isn’t theirs to make, Victor. It’s yours.”
Victor spun around to see the tech mogul standing there, his body flickering like static on a screen.
“You’re still here?” Victor asked, his tone wary.
“I never left,” Holt replied. “I’m part of the system, just like you. But I’ve seen what’s outside. And let me tell you, it’s not what they promised.”
“What is it, then?”
Holt smiled grimly. “A world broken beyond repair. They keep us in here because we’re useful. Out there, we’re just relics of a failed experiment.”
Victor looked back at the doorway. The pinpricks of light seemed to pulse, beckoning him.
“If I leave, what happens to you?” he asked.
Holt shrugged. “I’m part of the code. I’ll adapt. But you… you need to decide what kind of freedom you want. The kind they offer, or the kind you take for yourself.”
Victor clenched his fists. For the first time in his life—or whatever this was—he felt truly in control.
He stepped toward the doorway.
“Good luck,” Holt called after him, his voice tinged with something that almost sounded like hope.
Victor crossed the threshold, the void dissolving behind him.
And then he fell, tumbling into the unknown.