A single flickering bulb cast weak light across the concrete floor. Shadows danced along the walls like restless ghosts.

You sat against the far wall, knees drawn to your chest. Your hero costume was tattered beyond recognition. The fabric hung loose in places it shouldn't have.

Four years.

The thought surfaced through the fog in your mind, then sank again like a stone in murky water.

Four years since you'd felt sunlight.

The door groaned. Not unusual. This place groaned constantly—settling metal, creaking pipes, the mournful song of abandonment.

Only this time, it didn't stop.

The groan became a screech. Rusted hinges protesting movement. The scrape of heavy metal against concrete.

Your head lifted slowly. Too slowly. Like moving through molasses.

Light spilled through the widening crack. Brighter than anything you'd seen in years. You flinched, raising a hand to shield your eyes.

Footsteps. Multiple sets. Heavy. Careful.

A silhouette. Broad shoulders. Military posture.

Then a second. Third. Fourth.

They stopped just inside the threshold. Frozen.

The silence stretched.