Who am I?

In the darkness, sounds started to reach me. At first, they were indistinct, but gradually they became clearer until I could make them out.

"Open this piece of scrap metal and get that bastard out," I heard a voice through the haze.

I heard the sound of a grinder cutting through metal. Opening my eyes slightly, I could see them breaking open the door on my side, cutting through it. My memory quickly returned, and I remembered what had happened. Looking around more attentively, I saw the place we had landed and the bandits standing around with weapons. My partner was apparently dead, crushed; the main impact had hit his side. Even the car's armor didn't save him from the collision.

I started looking for a weapon; at least I wouldn't surrender without it. Taking a pistol in my right hand, I reached for the dashboard with my left, pressing the emergency signal on the screen to call for backup. I also tried to activate the combat mode in the car, but it showed a signal error. During combat mode, the protection system activates: an automatic turret should emerge from the trunk, guided by the car's tablet, along with support combat drones for reconnaissance.

It seemed all I had was the pistol and the car's self-destruct system. It would literally blow me up along with everything nearby. At least I'd take these bastards with me before I die.

"Hurry up and open it, he's come to, get him out," I focused on the one speaking. It was Carlo DeVargo, standing right next to the car. He noticed my gaze and ran his hand across his throat, "Know this, you won't die quickly like your partner. First, I'll flay your skin off, then I'll tear out your bones, and only then will I chop off your head and send it to your family, hahaha," the scumbag laughed nastily.

Let's see how much fun you'll have when backup arrives. The tablet beeped: "Emergency signal canceled." Canceled? I tried pressing the button again, but it displayed "unavailable." Then the message "System locked" appeared.

"What, the system's not responding? Know this, your own bosses sold you out," the bastard shouted with a smile.

Damn, he's right; it could only be blocked from headquarters. Why did they do this to me? It seems a few officials I had taken down and others I was digging into decided to get rid of me. It was to be expected. Well then, I'll activate the self-destruct system by holding down the special button. A port for the key opened. Taking it out of my pocket, I inserted it and turned it, but nothing happened. Confused, I opened my eyes and looked at the activated self-destruct system, which did not work.

"What, it's not working? Too bad," Carlo was already next to my window, mocking as he pointed at the port, "Well, I almost feel sorry for you."

That routine car inspection was a week ago. Back then, I thought the car felt different but didn't give it much thought, though I should have. It looks like they stripped everything they could. It's surprising they didn't remove the armored windows. No, I would have noticed that. All the internal systems that only activate in emergency situations are hard to notice in normal times.

It seems the last hope is indeed the neutron bomb. It will blow everything to pieces here. I got it from an arms dealer I arrested. I kept it for myself, not handing it over as evidence. I didn't know it would actually come in handy. Since there's no chance of surviving, why not use it?

Taking the armored case from the back seat, where I stored my important documents and this grenade, I hesitated to use it only because of the many collateral casualties, and I wanted to avoid them. But to hell with it all. Entering the password and opening it, I removed the safety and initiated the detonation process. All that's left is to release the button. For the final act, I showed it to Carlo DeVargo.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he stared at it in fear. It seemed he recognized what it was.

"Don't be hasty, man, let's make a deal," he said tensely, stepping back.

"So, what were you planning to do to me?" I decided to taunt him a bit.

"Nothing, don't be hasty. You have a family, you want to get back to them, right?" His voice was a bit shaky. Though I don't particularly love my family, they are still my family, and I do want to live.

"Here's the deal: your men leave now, and we walk together to the edge of the slums. I go my way, and you go yours."

"They'll catch me there, I can't agree to that," Carlo hesitated to agree.

"I don't care, either that or you die," I gave him an ultimatum. You can't negotiate with bandits.

"Alright," he raised his hands in agreement.

I started to get out of the car. With some difficulty, I opened the door. Slightly staggering, I walked towards him, his goons aiming their weapons at me.

"Now, order your men to leave," I commanded him.

"Everyone out!" he shouted at them.

They hesitated slightly but complied. We headed towards one of the cars. I continued to hold the grenade in my left hand, while aiming the pistol at him with my right.

Listen, you're a smart guy, why keep working and living where you were betrayed? Maybe you should join me?" he started to persuade me.

"Save your sweet talk for someone else," I couldn't even stand to listen to him.

"Fine," he sat in the driver's seat, and I climbed into the passenger seat.

"Hurry up and drive," I nudged him slightly with the pistol.

Silently, he started the car and drove forward. I noticed his men following us in their cars.

"Call them and tell them not to follow us," I said.

He hesitated slightly, and I decided to press him.

"Now!" I shouted.

Reluctantly, he took out his phone and dialed a number. Someone on the other end picked up quickly.

"Yes," he said.

"Don't talk to them, just give the order," I didn't want to give him a chance to communicate with his people.

"Understood. Don't follow us, I'll handle it myself," Carlo ordered and hung up.

The car that was following us soon fell back, and we continued along the empty road.

"Are you really going to do this? Hand me over to the cops, get another commendation, and swallow the betrayal?" he started playing mind games, trying to influence me.

"Drive silently," I said roughly.

"Miserable salary and endless work. Is that the life you want? They keep you as long as you're useful. Once you bore them, they'll toss you out like trash," he clearly didn't understand me.

"I said, shut up," he was really starting to get on my nerves with his attempts to manipulate me.

"Join me. A man with your talents can make a lot of money," in his next attempt at verbal persuasion, I hit him on the head with the butt of my pistol.

He cried out in pain and grabbed his head with one hand. I had slightly cut his head, and blood started to flow. He lost control briefly and didn't try to speak again, continuing to drive in silence.

Soon we approached the checkpoint, and upon seeing our car, the military raised the alarm. They grabbed their weapons and aimed at us. The turrets turned and activated laser targeting, fixing it on our bodies.

"Stop the car," I ordered Carlo.

The car stopped thirty meters from the gates. Putting away my pistol, I got out of the car. But the neutron grenade was still in my hand, and I couldn't deactivate it. It looked like I had rushed in activating it. I made a big mistake, and the blow had severely damaged my head.

"I'm Detective Matthew Carrington, transporting a criminal," I shouted to the guards.

Hearing me, many of them looked at one of the commanders at the checkpoint. Hesitating, he took the sound amplifier.

"We can't confirm your identity, but there's definitely a dangerous criminal next to you, stay where you are," he said through the loudspeaker.

Have they erased me from the database? They're acting too quickly. It's going to be difficult to get back in.

"Check the cameras, my partner Brandon Fletcher and I drove in here two hours ago," I shouted again. There should be records of our entry in their logs.

The commander consulted his subordinates, and after a brief communication, he used the loudspeaker again.

"Where's your partner?" the commander addressed me.

"He died in the line of duty," I replied.

After a few more minutes of internal communication, he addressed me again.

"Detective Carrington, what's in your left hand?" Damn, I was afraid they'd notice the grenade. Lying was pointless, their cameras would identify what I had.

"A neutron grenade," I said, showing my left hand, which I had previously hidden behind my back. Their relaxed demeanor instantly vanished, and all weapons were now aimed solely at me.

"Why do you have a banned weapon, and an activated one at that?" the checkpoint commander asked with displeasure.

"I had to activate it to get out of an ambush, and thanks to it, I'm still alive and was able to apprehend this criminal!" I shouted, trying to clarify the situation.

"Stay where you are and await further instructions," he ordered.

"I understand," I said, finally able to relax a bit. I decided to check on my detainee. As soon as I glanced at him, I saw a mocking smile in his eyes. He was showing me his phone. Damn, I should have taken his mobile. He contacted his people. I was about to snatch the phone from his hands when I heard the familiar sound of a rocket launching and saw the characteristic smoke trail heading towards the checkpoint.

An explosion rocked the area, and gunfire erupted from the slums with various weapons. In response, the automated systems returned fire. The car Carlo was still sitting in sped off. I didn't hesitate and drew my pistol, shooting at the tires with precision, hitting them all.

He lost control and crashed into a high barrier. I immediately dropped to the asphalt and started crawling towards the car, bullets whizzing over my head, and rockets hitting either the checkpoint or rebel positions.

When I reached the car, I saw that Carlo had slumped over the steering wheel. He seemed either unconscious or dead. The gunfire continued outside, but it seemed the military was losing the upper hand. I needed to get out of there alive and in one piece.

I couldn't escape with him, but I couldn't leave him either, so I had to eliminate him. Without further hesitation, I shot him in the head a couple of times. He twitched a few times and then went still. He had been alive after all.

Crawling between the high concrete barriers, I moved towards the checkpoint. I just needed to get there, and I could slip away. Just in case, I decided to get rid of the neutron bomb to cover my retreat. Summoning all my strength, I threw the bomb towards the enemy positions. The grenade activated a few seconds later, starting to whistle and gather momentum. The light grew brighter, and when it hit the ground, an explosion eradicated everything in its path. The shockwave threw me several meters.

My head hit the asphalt, and everything went dark. Sounds merged into chaos, and various images flashed before my eyes. I felt blood trickling from my ears.

Events unfolded rapidly after that. Reinforcements arrived immediately, cordoning off the entire area and simultaneously eliminating all the bandits. I was arrested and taken in for questioning. I only gave the bare facts that I could prove, avoiding anything that could be used against me. Despite the recklessness of my actions, my mission was technically accomplished, and the dangerous terrorist was dead, although he was needed alive.

I was held until evening when finally, my superior came to my cell. The door creaked open, and with a touch of sarcasm, he walked in.

"Hello, Matthew. Rough day, isn't it?" he asked, waving his hand for all the guards to leave.

"That's an understatement. What's my verdict?" I asked, already envisioning a prison with iron bars or, at the very least, a more gruesome method of disappearing in the dark alleys of the slums.

"Your actions were reckless and foolish, although you're considered one of the smartest people. The consequences of your actions cost the police dearly, with numerous deaths at the checkpoint, plus an entire section of the district wiped off the map by your neutron grenade. Such feats deserve the death penalty, or if you're lucky, a life sentence," he stated his perspective on the incident, confirming my suspicions. What a damn day. "What do you have to say about that?"

"Shit happens," I quipped.

"This only happens with you. We were already preparing your convoy, but unexpectedly, an order came from higher up – drop all charges and dismiss you, stripping you of all honors and awards, including any achievements," said the Chief, looking at me with a serious expression.

"No more being a detective, huh?" I smirked.

"Essentially, you're a nobody. I doubt anyone would even hire you as a janitor. But that's not all. Due to the severe financial losses caused by your actions, all your property will be seized in favor of the state," he concluded his stern monologue, and I felt a flicker of anger flash across my face. Despite many years of service, I felt this was a gross injustice.

"Is that all?" I contained my anger, understanding there was little I could change now. But in time, I would get my revenge and find those who wanted me dead.

"Yes, that's all," he said, closing the folder of documents and knocking on the door. "Escort him out," the Chief ordered the guards.

I was thrown out of the police station faster than I had been brought in. All I had left was the clothes on my back, and all my property was confiscated. With dark thoughts, I headed to a bar, though I had no money. Maybe my old bartender friend would pour me something.

My steps led me to the bar that had become my second home. I often came here to unwind, drink, and smoke. Damn, I wanted a cigarette now, but I had none. Oh well, time to try and get thoroughly drunk.

Stumbling into the bar, I sat at the counter, and the bartender, my long-time friend, greeted me immediately.

"Welcome our gloomy detective Matthew Carrington, a true legend. Nothing escapes him," he started, but I cut him off, not wanting to hear a long spiel.

"Just pour me a drink," I asked.

"Bad day?" he asked, deftly twisting a bottle and pouring a shot.

"Not the first," I downed the shot in one gulp. "Another."

"I see you're not in the mood for conversation," he agreed, filling my glass again.

So I sat there, drinking, pouring liters of alcohol into myself. My mind began to fog, and my thoughts became unclear. It felt like everything that happened today hadn't happened to me. As I reached for another drink, the bartender moved the glass away from me.

"Sorry, Matthew, but can you pay for what you've had?" He no longer looked friendly.

"I'll pay, just a couple more glasses," I insisted, banging my fist on the counter.

"Pay and leave, please," the bartender refused.

"We've known each other a long time; I'll pay," despite my drunken state, I noticed the strange change in his behavior.

"Sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. I don't know you at all," the bartender said, and I began to suspect something.

"Why are you saying this?" I asked.

"Pay and leave, or we'll throw you out and take the money by force," he almost shouted, and the security guards approached me.

Smiling, I did something completely out of character. I tried to lunge at one of the approaching guards with all my might, but the alcohol had sapped my coordination, and I fell with a crash. The guards grabbed me and dragged me out through the back exit. My attempts to resist were weak, and I couldn't fight them off. Once we were in a narrow alley, they threw me to the ground and started searching my pockets angrily, then began to beat me. I just lay there, trying to protect my vital organs from the blows. It seemed they satisfied their anger and left me lying on the asphalt.

After a couple of minutes, I tried to get up, but my attempts were futile. My legs buckled with every step. To make matters worse, it started to rain, and all I had on was my jacket. The heavy downpour soaked me through, but it helped me come to my senses a bit and stand up properly.

So I walked the streets, aimlessly. I had no purpose anymore; I had lost my will to live. I didn't even know how I could get revenge. I was overwhelmed by a strong craving for a cigarette, and I decided to ask a passerby. At that moment, a man passed by, almost hidden in the shadows, as the streetlights barely touched his silhouette, and it was hard to make out anything under the umbrella.

Error 5:;%?"(№";*

Damaged brain areas

Rebooting simulation

Error

Retry failed

Postpone error

End of memory

My head felt heavy. Two sets of memories collided and began to intertwine. Mine and... mine? It was hard to say otherwise. I perfectly remembered all the experienced moments and thought it was me.

Initiating...