"Thanks for meeting me here, Ashton."
"No problem. I still owe you for that business back in Kansas City, Max."
Max rolled his eyes. "Christ. Don't remind me about that shitshow."
"Hahaha. Don't worry, I've been trying to shove that bad memory into some forgotten chunk of my subconscious. Just bottle it up until I die."
Ashton looked at his old friend and colleague. It felt almost wrong to see him sitting in a place so… normal? It was like seeing a cartoon character in different clothes, or a palm tree north of the Carolinas.
"So Max. You know I'm in a state of 'semi-retirement.' "
"I know, and I would never ask you if it wasn't important. And you know I wouldn't have it here if it wasn't…" He trailed off.
Ashton nodded.
"When you worked for the R&D department, did you ever come across anything called Project Nimue?"
Ashton's eyes widened. "That's. That's a myth. You're pulling my leg."
"Nope. Turns out Director Carlisle lied to a lot of people when he said he shut it down back in '97."
"No shit. I read some of the things I could but I couldn't imagine somebody actually doing that kind of stuff."
[West Virginia. 1992]
An eleven-year-old boy sat motionless outside the operation theatre. His face was still, empty.
