Years had passed since Archer gained "Feel Your Pain," and the change in him was undeniable. Once a bright, hopeful boy, he grew cold and distant, a shadow of his former self. Even Zero, his mentor and father figure, noticed the shift, his heart aching as Archer withdrew.
By sixteen, Archer had isolated himself, locking his door against the warmth of Zero's makeshift family—the early Assassin's Code, now a group of fourteen outcasts saved by Zero, united to rebel against V.I.P.E.R., the agency that branded them pariahs.
Archer left their home, his departure a silent wound to those he left behind. He returned only when Zero summoned him, each visit met with Zero's quiet pleas to stay. "Come back, Archer," Zero would say, his voice heavy with concern, but Archer's cold shoulder was his only reply, a wall of ice hiding the guilt and pain festering within. He never spoke of his encounter with the Joker, though Zero likely suspected, seeing Archers newly gained ability.
At seventeen, Hina embarked on a secret mission for Zero, her last glimpse of Archer a fleeting, distant figure. When Archer turned eighteen, Zero called him for a pivotal mission—one that would strip him of his memories.
Zero led Archer to the revolutionary headquarters, a chaotic hub disguised as a club, where Barry Wilson greeted them.
"Hey, you must be Archer!" Barry said, his voice warm as he extended a hand. "Zero's told me a lot about you, kid."
Archer ignored the handshake, his gaze sweeping the room with disdain. "This is the revolutionary headquarters? Looks like a club to me," he said, his voice flat, drawing wary glances from the crowd.
Barry laughed nervously, retracting his hand. "You didn't tell me he was this stiff, Zero," he muttered, leaning closer.
Zero's face tightened, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes. "He's been like this for a while," he whispered. "I think it's tied to his ability. It started when he got it, but he won't talk about it."
Barry's brow furrowed. "His ability? Why do you say that?"
"I've tried asking, but he shuts me out," Zero said, his voice laced with quiet frustration and unspoken love.
"Are you done whispering about me?" Archer cut in, his tone sharp and impatient. "What's the mission?"
Barry cleared his throat, gesturing toward a back room. "Alright, kid, follow me. Let's find somewhere quiet."
They entered a dim room where a grizzled man waited, his presence heavy with unspoken power.
"Is he part of the mission?" Archer asked, his voice devoid of curiosity.
"He's got a role," Barry said, settling into a chair. "Archer, we've been digging into the Prophecy and the Great War, but we've hit a wall. The only way to learn more is to infiltrate V.I.P.E.R.'s headquarters."
"That doesn't sound hard," Archer said, his tone dismissive. "Go in, get the info, get out. Simple."
Barry's expression darkened. "Its not that simple, Archer. We've tried before, but it always fails." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "V.I.P.E.R. liquidates 'unnecessary' or suspicious units, sending them to the Badlands for a 'mission'—a setup with a firing squad waiting. Only their elite know the truth."
"So what? They died?" Archer asked, his voice cold but edged with faint intrigue.
"Not exactly," Barry said. "V.I.P.E.R. has a mechanism—or someone—that wipes memories of the war, the Prophecy, or even themselves from units before they're sent to die. We tried using a vow with him—" he nodded at the grizzled man—"to protect the memories, but it didn't work."
"A vow?" Archer's brow lifted, a rare spark of interest breaking his icy facade.
"Some abilities require vows to activate," Barry explained. "His lets him hide a range of memories and restore them at will."
"What was the vow?" Archer pressed, his voice steady but probing.
"If they learned vital info about the war or Prophecy, they'd lose all memories from a set range the day before the Badlands mission," Barry said. "We planned to save them and restore their memories, but V.I.P.E.R.'s mechanism was stronger than we thought."
"Why would it work with me?" Archer asked, his eyes narrowing, suspicion hardening his features.
Barry leaned forward, his voice earnest. "You're an Emperor reincarnate. Your memories from the womb survived because of who you are. If your other memories return, I believe the war's secrets will come with them. It's a gut feeling, but I trust it."
Archer fell silent, his mind churning, a storm of doubt and resolve behind his cold exterior. "I'll do it," he said finally, his voice firm. "But on two conditions."
"Name them," Barry said, his eyes steady.
"First, I choose the memory range to hide," Archer said. "Second, I write a note for you to give me when I return here without memories. Whatever I choose then, you respect it."
Barry nodded, a flicker of respect in his gaze. "Deal. What range do you want hidden?"
Archer's eyes burned with a chilling determination, the first emotion Barry had seen in him all day. "Everything," he said, his voice like steel. "From the moment I first saw Zero."
In the present, Hina stood over Archer in the cabin at Hierro's Peak, her heart heavy as she watched him stir, his memories flooding back.
"Archer…" she whispered, her voice trembling with hope and fear, waiting for him to awaken fully.
Archer's eyes fluttered open, his body wracked with a dull ache. "Pass me a cigar, will you?" he rasped, his voice raw with pain, a faint tremor betraying the weight of what he now remembered.
The grizzled man lit a cigarette and handed it to Archer, who took a deep inhale, the smoke curling around him like a shroud. He exhaled slowly, his long hair falling over his face, hiding his eyes from view.
"Tch," he muttered, a sound of anguished frustration, his shoulders trembling.The truth crashed over him like a tidal wave—Hayate, his friend, was dead. Another life lost because of him. The realization tore at his soul, drowning him in a sea of guilt and sorrow, the coldness he'd built over years crumbling under the weight of his past.
Archer sat motionless, the cigarette burning between his fingers, lost in an immense, suffocating pain.