1 Prologue

"Just give up," Draven heard a voice that once gave hime comfort say to him as he struggled to stand on his feet, "You are going to die here today."

"W-why?" Draven struggled to talk as blood poured out from his mouth and various injuries. His eyesight was blurry as he saw the dark figure that had been chasing him for hours. The voice sounded cold and distant, as if the owner didn't care about anything that was happening.

"I am simply doing my job," the voice said with no hint of emotion, "This is SynthCorp's way, Draven. You, of all people, should have understood the consequences of seeking the truth."

The figure, cloaked in the sterile glow of SynthCorp insignia, moved closer, revealing the cold precision of advanced technology that had become synonymous with oppression.

Draven's vision blurred further, the world around him dissolving into shadows and pain. Despite the dire circumstances, the fire of defiance still flickered in his eyes. "You... can't... kill me," he gasped, his words a desperate plea against the impending darkness.

"I can," the figure replied, "and I will."

"You were a pawn," the figure stated coldly, the synthetic resonance of their voice cutting through the air. "A pawn that played its part, and now, it's time for the final move."

The figure raised their weapon and aimed it at Draven's chest. "You should have stayed unknown," they said, their voice devoid of emotion.

During those haunting last moments, Draven's thoughts lingered on the brink of regret, regret for uncovering the secrets that brought him to this deadly crossroads. As the weapon targeted his heart, a silent plea echoed through the depths of his mind.

The deafening resonance of the gunshot reverberated through the desolate alley, marking the abrupt end of Draven.

As Draven lay motionless, the figure in the SynthCorp cloak surveyed the lifeless body with clinical detachment. A cold breeze stirred, carrying with it the stench of blood and death. The voice that had once offered comfort now lingered as a haunting echo in the dimly lit alley.

"You were a threat," the figure murmured, indifferent to the gravity of the moment. "SynthCorp does not tolerate threats."

With those chilling words, the figure turned and walked away, leaving Draven's lifeless body behind.