the vanishing of Stiles Stilinski

Deactivate Mitch

The air in the room was thick with tension, the remnants of smoke and ash still lingering in the air as everyone tried to process what had just happened. The aftermath of the explosion had left them all rattled, but it was the unknowns—the unanswered questions—that weighed heaviest on their minds.

Stiles—or Thomas, as some had come to understand—sat propped up against the table, his breathing still heavy from the ordeal. The room was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent lights casting long shadows on the walls, making the atmosphere even more oppressive. His eyes, sharp and calculating, darted around the room, taking in the concerned faces of his friends and allies.

Mihno, his face lined with worry, broke the silence first. “Stiles… Thomas… what did you do before the bomb blew up?” His voice was filled with a mix of curiosity and concern, trying to piece together the fragments of Stiles’ actions and motivations.

Stiles slowly looked up at Mihno, his expression unreadable. The weight of everything he had done, the secrets he had kept, and the promises he had made seemed to press down on him, making it difficult to find the words. But then, as if remembering something crucial, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Everyone in the room tensed, their eyes fixated on the piece of paper, wondering what it could contain. Brenda, who had been standing quietly in the corner, stepped forward, her expression a mixture of confusion and anticipation. The name "Thomas" had rattled her, stirring memories she couldn’t quite place, but the mention of a promise made her heart race.

Stiles—or Thomas, as he now seemed to be embracing—unfolded the paper carefully. His hands trembled slightly, whether from exhaustion or the weight of what he was about to reveal, no one could tell. He glanced at Brenda, his eyes locking onto hers with a look of intense determination.

“I promised Brenda before Wicked took her memory…” he began, his voice steady but carrying an emotional undertone that made everyone lean in closer. “…that I would find her son.”

Brenda’s breath hitched in her throat, her hand instinctively going to her mouth as she gasped. The room fell silent, the gravity of his words hanging heavy in the air.

“I went to find Aaron Dunbar’s file,” Thomas continued, his voice softer now, almost reverent. He held the paper up, showing it to everyone before extending it toward Brenda. “I promised her that I would find him, no matter what it took.”

Brenda’s eyes welled up with tears as she took the paper from his hands, her fingers trembling as she unfolded it. The room seemed to hold its collective breath as she scanned the contents of the file. There, in faded ink, was the information she had longed for, the details of the son she had lost to Wicked’s cruel experiments.

Tears streamed down her face as she looked back at Thomas, her emotions a whirlwind of relief, sorrow, and gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Thank you for keeping your promise.”

Thomas nodded, the weight of his actions settling on his shoulders. “I couldn’t let them erase everything, Brenda,” he said quietly. “They took so much from us, but they couldn’t take that promise. I had to make it right.”

The room was thick with emotion as Brenda clutched the paper to her chest, her heart aching with both the pain of what had been lost and the hope of what might still be found. The others watched in respectful silence, understanding the magnitude of what had just transpired.

Mihno, ever the practical one, finally broke the silence. “So… Aaron. Where is he now?”

Thomas shook his head, his expression pained. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Wicked’s files were incomplete, and some of the data had been destroyed. But this… this is a start. We know his name, where he was last seen. It’s more than we had before.”