It didn't take long to return to Waylon's neighborhood. Miles drove mostly in silence, save for him occasionally humming along to a random Carly Rae Jepsen song. It was strange, the two of them had hardly known each other for long, and yet they were driving along as though they were buddies on a road trip. Waylon wasn't sure if he should feel happy or somber that their time together would be ending soon.

"Remember what to do?" Miles had asked, turning the car down the next corner. "I'll email you my footage..."

"I'll combine it with my own, then you'll send it off to Simon Peacock of VIRALleaks, so he can verify it. He worked at Murkoff, you probably know that."

"Yeah, I got it."

Miles nodded. "The rest of it is up to you. Stay safe, alright? Keep your family close."

"I will. You too. Do you know where you're going?"

Miles turned away and frowned, focusing on the road instead of answering.

"You could always come stay with us, Lisa wouldn't mind if I explained-"

"No. I need to figure out this whole Walrider business and I don't want your family getting hurt. I'll be fine, I'll probably head back to D.C. S' where all my shit is."

"Keep in touch."

"I will."

When they arrived at the house, Waylon couldn't hold back his enthusiasm as finally reunited with Lisa. She was in the garden watering some flowers when the jeep pulled into the driveway. Her confusion changed to pure joy once Waylon stepped, or rather stumbled outside into the sunshine. It was a moment straight out of a Hallmark movie.

How he wanted to spin her around in the air-had it not been for the cane he was forced to carry. Still, their embrace was long and much needed, and he never wanted to let go.

The boys came out shortly after. Nicky was in pure disbelief, eyes nearly popping out of his skull at the sight of his father, and running at full speed to join the group hug, chatting the entire time and asking all sorts of questions. Waylon fondly ruffled his oldest son's dark curls. Little Ollie toddled not as quickly as his brother, but just as eager to meet with them. He must have been gone for longer than he thought, for the last time he saw the 14-month-old, he was still crawling. Soon he would be joining his brother and causing chaos around the house.

Miles had stayed hidden the entire time, purposely making himself scarce . He made it clear that he didn't want to cause any distress by his appearance, worsened by the Walrider's influence. He also made it clear he was in a rush to not make small talk. No, instead Waylon decided it was best he explain to Lisa the situation in private. He hadn't a chance to say goodbye before realizing that Miles had already left. He was unsure if he should have felt relieved, or somber at the loss of his only friend at the asylum.

The following days were a blur. Lisa had reacted with outrage at the news once she had learned everything, and agreed to help as much as she possibly could, though she was reluctant at first. Waylon had already put himself out there by emailing news sources, but this seemed far more dangerous. The risks were grave, they knew that. So they took extra precautions. Lisa's parents had been notified and even agreed to let the Parks stay with them for as long as they needed. He didn't like involving them in this, but it wasn't like they had any other options.

It would all be fine. He would recover physically and mentally soon enough. Mount Massive and Murkoff would be behind them soon enough.

The sick scent of coppery blood filled his nostrils, waking him immediately from whatever state he was in. He had stopped running hours ago from the Variants chasing him. Or was it something else? It all seemed a blur.

That didn't matter now. He needed to know where he was. Some room, still in Mount Massive.

He looked around, then straight up. Bodies were dangling above him, watching him with their contorted lips into grotesque, unnatural smiles.

He would have felt safer in the riot.

Waylon blinked, waiting-praying for the disturbing imagery to fade away. That he was only dreaming another violent nightmare. But they didn't, the only became clearer. He was in a small, yet familiar room. Although it was no regular room, it was more like a chamber. A torture chamber.

But it made no sense. He couldn't possibly still be in Mount Massive. He remembered escaping with Miles. Hadn't he? He must have. There was no way he traveled all the way back to the asylum.

He tried to move, only to realize he was stuck, firmly lying flat on his back on some sort of operating table. Hanging close to his head was a lamp flashing with one light bulb. His wrists-which he had failed to notice were bound tightly above his head. As were his ankles tied to the table, spread eagled apart.

And, he was completely naked. The moment he tilted his head up, he got a full view of his genitals on display in front of a saw contraption. Which could only mean...

"Darling!"

Waylon froze in terror, ready to scream his lungs out, but he found himself unable. His throat was hoarse and could only make unintelligible, frightened whimpers. Like a squeaking mouse caught in a trap.

He might as well bid farewell to his dick and balls.

The beast of a man-Eddie Gluskin was standing right in front of him, perfectly healthy and alive, and grinning madly. He took his time to stroll towards him, admiring, or rather gawking at each feature of his body-even the ones he had considered to be 'vulgarity' as though he was a hunk of meat. He was no human in this man's ideal fantasy. He was a prize. A prize to be admired, then slaughtered seconds after.

Eddie's icy blue eyes brightened in almost a child-like glee at Waylon's fearful state. "My sweet, I'm so pleased that you have awoken at last! I didn't dare wake you. Why, you look even more breathtaking whilst unconscious." He purred, grazing Waylon's calf with his fingertips, subtly flinching away from the dark hairs on his leg.

Waylon pulled at his restraints desperately. He was ready to shout, when Eddie grabbed hold of his wrist, and squeezed hard. "Shhh, darling, no need to fuss."

"Let me go, let me-!" His breathing became more erratic. Even with Eddie holding him back, he tried to pull away harder. Only to feel a sharp slap across his face. He couldn't hold back the pathetic yelp that came out.

"Silence, you insolent whore!" Eddie hissed, voice switching from suave to threatening in a flip of a switch. "A woman's job is to follow her husband's commands." His nails dug into his arm, his smile shifting into a menacing scowl. "Don't test me again."

Waylon only had the strength to barely lower his head in confirmation.

"Good." He patted his head condescendingly, fingers intertwining with his dyed curls with faux affection. "Beautiful. I always admire a natural blond. Absolutely beautiful." Waylon did not try to correct him. "You have amazing bone structure, and such soft skin too." He trailed a hand down Waylon's cheek. "Everything about you is perfect. Save for your ...vulgar parts."

Eddie did not dare look down at Waylon's lower body, although it was clear what he was referring to. "But no need to fret, my dear. All will be restored and you will soon be ready for our wedding day."

"Our...w...wedding day?" He repeated, wanting to make sure he was hearing right. No, no, no he couldn't get married to this sick, demented man. He was already married anyway.

Eddie laughed. "Silly girl, don't tell me you've forgotten already? I appreciate your practical jokes however now is hardly the time. Like I said, we need to prepare you for the big day. We can't have you looking like that, hm? We don't have time to waste." He moved briefly from Waylon's side to turn on the saw.

His eyes went wide. "No...no! Please! Don't do this!"

"Shhh, it won't take long. Just a few snips of the flesh, here and here." He gestured towards the hairs on Waylon's stomach, then to the edge of his v line, flinching as his hand landed on his cock. "You didn't choose to have this vulgarity forced upon you, but that's what I'm here for. To plant my seed, and make room for our children."

Waylon shook his head violently. The saw was buzzing.

He was about to scream, when he saw a wispy cloud float above him. It blinked at him.

He blinked back.

Like a lightning bolt bursting with sudden electric currents, Waylon's eyes snapped open, wide and panicked. His heart, still pounding, was about ready to explode from his chest with each frantic breath. He shivered despite being drenched in sweat.

It was pitch black. He couldn't see anything, not even his trembling hand in front of him. Dizziness and nausea overcame him.

Was he still in the Asylum? Would he ever escape that hellhole? He could still hear the buzz of the saw nearing him. Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. Run. Run away. Get help. Help me.

He didn't run away. A light flickered on. His bedside lamp. His bedroom. He was in his bedroom. Safe, for now.

"Waylon?" Someone was talking to him. They sounded gentle but he didn't want to trust them just yet. How did they know his name? They must work for Murkoff, they were going to kill him and his family and-

"Waylon!" Wait. It wasn't anyone from Murkoff. He met his wife's anxious gaze. Lisa. Lisa was here. He had woken her up.

He tried to open his mouth to form a response, but he found himself unable to. The only sound that came out was gasps and chokes. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

"Waylon, can you hear me?"

He could hear her. Her voice was distant at first, almost like indistinct muffled chatter. But then he caught her concerned, dark eyes and heard her clearer than ever. He nodded. He rubbed away his burning tears in frustration.

Lisa smiled sadly. "Alright, can you listen to me? I need you to breathe in for uh, seven seconds. Can you do that?"

He inhaled, counting the seconds in his head. There were definitely benefits to being married to a yoga instructor.

"Now breathe out for seven seconds." She quickly adjusted her sleep bonnet as she instructed him. There was a tenderness behind her voice, a warmth that he had missed for so long. "Do you mind if I touch you? Nod if yes, shake head if no?"

He nodded, melting in her warm embrace. He kissed the top of her forehead. "I'm sorry." His voice cracked.

"What for?"

"For waking you up. And freaking out."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Lisa's hand caressed his cheek, adoration and love in her dark brown eyes. "It's only been three days since you came back. Nightmares are expected. And I'm here for you. I promise."

Even with her reassurance, he still felt humiliated.

"Do you want to talk about it? It might help."

His mind flashed images from his time at Mount Massive. Frank Manera and his hunger for human flesh. Chris Walker, the man with super strength, able to crush bones with one hand. Dead bodies scattered without any distinguishable features, destroyed by Variants, or the Walrider's force.

Eddie Gluskin and-

He shook his head, silently pleading for her not to ask further.

"Okay," She replied gently. "I ...think I have an idea. You were screaming in your sleep. Before you woke up, I mean. I- I didn't even see all the footage and I'm still horrified, I can't even imagine how you must have felt.

"I'm so sorry, Waylon." She retracted her hand. "If you don't want to talk to me about it-"

"No, no, no it's that I don't want to talk to you about it-"

"I didn't mean it like that." She quickly added. "I meant someone more qualified, a professional."

He almost scoffed. "Therapy is expensive."

"It would be worth the cost to get the help that you need."

"I'm not...I'm not crazy, Lisa. I just need some time to get over this hurdle."

"I didn't say you were crazy. Plenty of sane people go to therapists." She raised an eyebrow. "And getting help for your mental health isn't a sign of weakness. You agreed to get help from the doctors and medication and treatment for your leg-"

"I'll be fine. I don't need therapy."

"You're okay with physical therapy but not therapy for your mental health?"

"That's different!"

"Waylon."

"Lisa." He fired back, quickly regretting the sharpness in his tone. "Sorry...I just don't really want to talk about it."

She sighed. "Fine, I'll drop it. Can...can I get you something? Like um. A new shirt...?"

He glanced down. The t-shirt he was wearing was damp. He hadn't even noticed. "Yes. Thank you."

As he watched her leave, he almost wanted to smack himself for being so stupid. Normally he was so good at keeping his panic attacks in check. Of course, that was way before the Mount Massive incident but still...

Lisa already must think he was crazy. He couldn't blame her. Several nights in a row he woke up screaming. She never complained once, but he could tell she was getting tired. Tired of him. Soon she would kick him out, drop him back at a psychiatric hospital for the mentally unstable. She wouldn't stay married to a traumatized man. His sons would be embarrassed of him by the time they would be old enough to understand.

He couldn't go back there.

The door creaked open and he held back a scream.

"Hey, hey!" Lisa grinned sheepishly, a fresh shirt in one hand, a glass of water in the other. "It's only me."

"O-Oh..." He gratefully accepted the clothes and water. "Thanks."

She nodded, helping him change out of his old shirt. "The boys didn't wake up, I checked."

He raised an eyebrow, and took a sip of his water. "Not even the baby?"

"Nope. Score one for parenting." She joked. When he didn't laugh, she sat down. "You still look scared."

"I am scared." He admitted. "Not about the dreams though. I'm scared for tomorrow. Exposing everything. What if it's the wrong decision?"

"It isn't." Lisa said firmly, hiding a yawn behind her hand. "You'll be saving a lot of people by doing this. All those victims, tortured by the sick people of Murkoff will finally get some justice. And I'll be right with you when we go to VIRALleaks and talk to...what's his name?"

"Simon Peacock."

She snorted loudly. "Peacock? That's gotta be his pen name. No way that's his real name. What, is he a character from Clue?"

"Focus Lisa." Waylon frowned, although he felt his lip switch slightly in amusement. "What about the aftermath? Murkoff knows I'm the Whistle-blower. They know where we live, they'll track us down-"

"My parents already said we can stay with them. They're in Burlington, no way they'll find us. I mean sure, the internet exists, but I deleted Facebook ages ago."

Waylon ironically never had social media, so that was never an issue. "I hate dragging your parents into this. I don't want to rely on them for everything."

"It was their idea, Way." She reminded, planting a kiss on his cheek. "They would rather us be safe. Besides, they love seeing the boys. They haven't visited in ages."

"As long as they don't help us financially I suppose it'll be alright. I'm just worried." He added as an afterthought, "It'll be a big adjustment for Nicky."

"That kid's resourceful, like his mama." Lisa said. "I don't think switching preschools will be too devastating for him. It'll be fine, I promise. We'll leak the information, pack everything, move to Vermont, which might be a big adjustment considering all the white people there. We might stick out."

"Duly noted."

"Oh we'll have to change our names-"

"Change our names?"

"Sure, it couldn't hurt." She wrapped her arms around him carefully. "I'm terrified too. But it'll all work out. I know it will, because we're a team. Putting on a brave face while you were gone...it was tough. But we can get through anything. We're the Parks, after all."

He chuckled. "Right."

"You wanna try and get some sleep?"

"Mm, yeah." He rested his head back on the pillow. Lisa switched the lights off, and in an instant he could hear her soft snores. He lay wide awake, unable to fall back asleep.

Tossing and turning didn't help so he ultimately gave up. The birds were chirping outside when he decided to properly wake up. Gold and orange streaked the skies from the window, and without waking Lisa, he moved quietly to check on the boys.

With his cane, that proved to be a difficult task. It took much longer than he ever imagined just to walk across the hall, and he prayed he wasn't too nosy with the cane bumping into various pieces of furniture.

Nicky was still sleeping, but Oliver was awake and alert and even fussing a bit in his crib. Waylon smiled fondly. He looked so much like Lisa, her dark skin, eyes, and even down to sharing two dimples on each cheek.

"Hi bug." He whispered. It was remarkable how much his youngest had grown in the two weeks that Waylon had been gone. Toddlers grew fast, but it was still surprising. "What are you doing awake?"

He lifted the toddler in his arms, who instantly latched onto him.

Ollie blinked owlishly at him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Da." Ollie mumbled as a response, distracted by a stray curl that had fallen in front of Waylon's eyes. He reached out and tugged hard with his tiny fist.

He winced. "Yup, that's my hair. Thank you."

After he had tended to Ollie's needs-which took almost an hour since the boy had decided to wiggle away from him any chance he got, the two finally made their way to the kitchen. Lisa had already made breakfast and was presenting some oatmeal to a sulking Nicky.

"Mama!" Ollie squealed, tumbling over as he followed Waylon inside, right flat on his face. For a moment, he was close to tears, but Lisa grinned at her son proudly.

"Nice fall, kiddo." She complimented, ruffling his hair with a giggle, placed him in his high chair and served him his breakfast.

"Do you want me to make coffee?"

"Already did." Lisa replied. "No need to worry, Way. Sit down and rest that leg, I'll get your breakfast. Don't forget your pills, okay?"

He nodded his thanks, accepting the oatmeal and coffee gratefully. He did feel a bit frustrated at himself though. It seemed like Lisa was doing everything around here. If it weren't for his leg...

No. He needed to stop with self pity. It was pathetic. He had to be useful some other way. He sipped his coffee, switching his focus to his older son who was glaring at his bowl of oatmeal in disgust.

"Hey, what's up, bud?"

Nicky pouted, pushing the bowl away dramatically.

"Something wrong?" Waylon asked.

"I hate oatmeal."

"What? But you liked it yesterday." He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I saw you eat the whole thing." He caught Lisa's frustrated look, and gestured at the mixture excitedly to impress his son. "Look, mom added berries to it, to make it taste better."

"Hmph." Nicky crossed his arms.

Lisa took a seat beside Ollie, exasperated. "Does it taste any different?" She asked Waylon.

"No, it tastes the same to me."

"Which is...?"

"Delicious." He said quickly. "Nicholas, do you want me to get you cheerios or...?"

"Pancakes." Nicky declared, folding his hands like he had made a diplomatic statement.

"It's either cereal or oatmeal, pancakes were never an option." Lisa said simply, taking another bite of her oatmeal.

"Emma's mom makes pancakes. She told me so." Nicky whined.

Waylon opened his mouth to ask, but Lisa answered for him, "Friend from preschool."

"Ah."

"Apparently Emma's mom is just the best mom in the entire world, according to our son. And the mom friend group that I'm unfortunately a part of." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I'm jealous. But she does own a yacht, so maybe I should be?"

Waylon's eyes went wide, using a napkin to wipe off some applesauce from Ollie's chin. "Wow, that's hardcore."

"She even lets Emma eat choc' chip pancakes for breakfast." Nicky explained, more interested in sugary breakfast than expensive boats, per three-year-old logic.

"And Emma will regret that because she isn't eating something healthy like oatmeal." Lisa said. "That I lovingly made from a box."

"How about we add some cinnamon sugar to yours, Nick, it might make it taste better?" Waylon suggested.

"It also defeats the purpose of eating healthy." Lisa pointed out, but smiled once she saw how excited Nicky became as Waylon sprinkled a generous helping of cinnamon on top. That seemed to satisfy the boy enough to gobble down half of his breakfast.

They decided to go with the initial plan, drop the boys off at a neighbor's house until they returned from VIRALleaks. Soon their lives would change, and they would officially be on the run. Worse, their children would be involved too.

Lisa had slowed the car to a halt at the red light when Waylon suddenly piped up: "Hey, do you remember when we were talking last night?"

She dipped her head.

"Were you serious about the whole name changing thing?"

Lisa turned down the radio and nodded again. "Absolutely. Extra precautions and all that."

"I guess that does make sense. What would your new name be?"

"Me?" She turned the corner and hummed. "Oh, well, I was actually thinking about this. When I was pregnant with Nicky, I thought for sure we were having a girl."

"To be fair, so did I." Waylon noted. "I mean, your tarot cards seemed legit at the time."

"Exactly! We were so confident we were going to have a daughter named Lydia. Two boys later and we never had the opportunity to use that name." She chuckled. "So you can call me Lydia. Lydia...Johnson."

"Johnson? Like your maiden name?"

"Why not? I changed my name for five years, and I feel like it's only fair. Now that Park's out of the running after all. So, what's your pick, Mr. Johnson?"

Waylon laughed. "That sounds so wrong."

"Euphemism aside, you could be..."

"Henry?"

"Oh no." Lisa groaned. "You do not look like a Henry. Henry is the frat guy who mansplains feminism to me."

"Oddly specific but okay. What about John?"

"John Johnson? Are you kidding?"

"Shit, I forgot about that. You know, if we ever had a third boy..."

She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. "I'm listening..."

"I always liked the name Liam."

"Aww, that's so cute. Liam and Lydia Johnson." Lisa cooed. "We should probably have a backstory to go along with this. We met in..."

"High school?" He supplied.

"I was gonna say we met at a casino in Las Vegas, but high school sounds more wholesome." She turned another left, beaming. "You were dazzled by my amazing good looks."

"I thought we were supposed to be making things up, not tell everyone what actually happened." He said slyly.

"Waylon..." She snickered, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Fine, I was dazzled by your amazing good looks and we decided to get married once we graduated."

"We were just that eager, huh?" He quipped.

"You're irresistible, Liam." Lisa replied dryly. "Hey, you took your medications right?"

He stared at the road ahead and shrugged. "Yeah."

"All of them...?"

"I'm a grown man." He grumbled.

"So the answer is no, then." Lisa exhaled sharply. "In all seriousness, you really need to take them. If you aren't interested in therapy, then it's the least you can do to help yourself."

"I didn't say I was against therapy, I just..." He massaged his temples. "Can't we talk about this later?"

"You said that last night and it is later." She pointed out. "I want to help you the best I can. But I am not a professional. I don't even know half the stuff you went through. So naturally, contacting someone who has a bit more knowledge on-"

"No."

"If you're embarrassed, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

"It's the cost, Lisa. I can't waste money on therapy when I don't need it. I- I don't even have a job anymore to pay for therapy. I'll get over it."

Silence. "You didn't say that when I went to therapy. You encouraged me to go." She finally said softly.

Waylon felt a twinge of guilt. "I...I know. But you were suffering after Nicky's birth, I couldn't just stand there and let you-oh." He closed his mouth shut when he saw Lisa's face. "Ah. Your point has been made."

"How about I give Alice a call? She does Skype sessions as well. No pressure either way, but it could help you."

He tilted his head at the mention of Lisa's old therapist. "Doesn't Alice only help with PPD?"

"She helped me with that, sure, but she might know someone who could help with your specific problem."

"Alright. That sounds good, I'll do it. Virtually, if it's cheaper."

"It is," She said. "I appreciate you giving it a chance. There also, uh, something I wanted to ask that isn't related to what we're talking about. "

"Hm?"

"Who is Miles?"

He felt taken aback by the question. "W- What...?"

"I heard you say that name in your sleep." Lisa explained. "I hope it isn't a sore subject."

"No. No it isn't. Miles was a friend of mine, we worked together to escape Mount Massive. I guess I was dreaming about him."

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Oh. Where is he now?"

He didn't know the answer to that question. They had kept in contact through phone numbers and even exchanging emails, but Miles hasn't messaged him since he left with the Walrider. It didn't seem likely he would be coming back-especially since he was on the run too.

"Gone." He responded, and that was all that needed to be said.

The VIRALleaks building was relatively hidden, but once Waylon saw it, his blood ran cold. Somewhere there was a former Murkoff employee who agreed to help. Whether or not he was friend or foe was up to debate. Lisa squeezed his hand, and they entered together.

"It might be best to stay in the lobby." He said. "I don't exactly trust him, and I'm worried he might-"

"Betray you and steal all the information you found, thus using it to expose Murkoff himself and take the credit?"

"That, or rat us out to Murkoff. He doesn't know what you look like, so you have a better chance at staying incognito."

"Got it." Lisa gave him a thumbs up. "Good luck, Way."

"Thanks, I'll need it." He adjusted the strap on his backpack-which held all the documents, notes, flash drives, and his laptop carefully inside. The elevator was nearby, with Simon's office being on the top floor made everything so much more agonizing.

It was strange, hobbling around the hallways. It looked like any average office building, down to the cream painted walls, water coolers and identical doors. It took him some time to find the correct office, and when he did, he knocked on the door.

"Come in." called a voice.

He poked his head inside the independent journalist's office. "Simon Peacock?"

Simon confirmed his identity with a grunt. He was a tall man, much taller than Waylon, with a shiny bald, scarred head and a black suit. He sat there, staring at him as he tapped his pencil rhythmically against the desk.

"I, um, I scheduled an appointment with you." Waylon stated.

"That we did." He replied, with a relaxed, but confident Australian accent behind his voice. "I didn't think you would show up, Mr. Park. But clearly you're as eager to take down Murkoff as much as I am."

Waylon nodded, his good leg bouncing up and down anxiously. "I have plenty of footage. I've already uploaded it to my flashdrive. Every bit of it. There's also some physical papers regarding the Mount Massive incident." He took out the documents and placed them on the desk. Simon skimmed them, as he then pulled his laptop from his bag.

Simon took a peek at his screen. "Then all you need to do is upload the footage to our website. I saw what you sent me. That's more than enough evidence for VIRALleaks to proceed further. It could put an end to Murkoff."

The website was loading, and the upload button appeared shortly after.

"Let me say it again. You press that button, there's no going back, Mr. Park. There's enough hard evidence in that video file to make a world of shit for our friends at Murkoff."

Waylon's hand hovered over the keys, watching as Simon left his desk to turn around and continue speaking.

"You got out of Mount Massive alive, and we've done everything in our power to cover your tracks, but our enemies are twitchy and malicious corporate paranoiacs with resources you're too moral to imagine. You're also aware that you won't be the only target."

"I know."

"Your wife, your children...they'll be nothing but another way for Murkoff to hurt you."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"On the other hand though, you'll do irrevocable damage to the company. You might even get a chance at justice for what they did to us."

Time was running out. He had to do it.

"Once you click upload, your life is over. Do you understand?" Simon slammed one hand to the desk for emphasis. "Everyone you love is fucked."

"But, it's the right thing to do." Waylon muttered.

"Is hurting Murkoff really that important to you?"

Behind Simon's glare, he saw a black figure. A ghostly, wisp of a cloud. Hidden behind a masculine frame and shaggy bangs. He saw the figure wave at him, pleading at him to do it. To prove to the world that everything they suffered for wasn't for nothing.

He wouldn't be afraid anymore.

"We'll get out of this together, Park. Don't forget that. We're a team."

Silver orbs flashed against the screen.

"Well?" Simon urged.

He pressed upload.