Chapter 3: The Headquarters

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3 days later, 6:18 PM

As the sun sets, y/n stood in the middle of his apartment, surrounded by stacks of boxes and packing supplies. As he took out his clothes from the wardrobe and neatly folded them, memories of his journey shortly flooded his mind. He packed the array of clothes into his suitcase and boxes, ensuring he had everything he might need for his new life. 

Y/N's abrupt resignation from the bar left his boss dismayed. She deeply cherished his presence and contribution to the establishment. With a touch of nostalgia, y/n carefully placed his beloved bartender vest into the suitcase, a reminder of the nights he had spent mixing drinks, engaging in heartfelt conversations with returning customers, and finding solace behind the bar. Though he was leaving that part of his life behind, the vest would forever serve as a reminder of those moments.

As y/n sifted through his wardrobe, his fingers brushed against a familiar fabric. He pulled out a lab coat, his trusted companion during his days as a biologist specialist. A wave of bittersweet feelings filled his heart. Although he did not shed a tear, the cherished lab coat held a tale worth sharing. "No time for flashbacks," said the man as he folded the lab coat and placed it in his suitcase.

His battle suit and mask were all that were left. They represented his readiness to face any challenge that may come his way. The mask, a symbol of his transformation into a hero, and a reminder of his alter ego. And the suit, a symbol of his powers, and a reminder of the responsibility he now carried on his shoulders. Each item held a story, a piece of his past.

The apartment gradually transformed into a canvas of empty spaces. Y/n took one last look around, a silent farewell to the years he had strived to live an ordinary life. With a final sigh, he grabbed the last box and headed towards the front door.

Outside, a sleek black car awaited him. The driver, in his formal attire greeted him, 

"Mr. l/n?"

"Yes, that's me." he replied.

"I was sent to pick you up. Let me help you with your belongings," said the driver as he started loading y/n's belongings into the car. Y/n helped load them, and then took a moment to breathe in the fresh air and let the reality sink in. He was sure that he will miss the place after a little while. After everything was loaded, they finally drove away from the area. With each passing mile, the distance between his old life and the future he had chosen disappeared. Y/n leaned back in his seat, content with his decision. About an hour later, they arrived at an empty field far away from the city. The expansive landscape revealed the Vulture, the esteemed aircraft of the Valorant Protocol, patiently awaiting their arrival. 

The doors to the aircraft swung open, and there, standing tall, was the man from the bar, the founder and leader of the Valorant Protocol. This time he wasn't wearing the brown coat he had worn back in the bar. His outfit exudes a powerful presence on the battlefield. A sturdy black vest, deep charcoal hued combat pants, and orange beret. The man's outfit made it apparent that he has ties to a military background. With a warm smile, he greeted Y/N, his presence offering reassurance and guidance.

Working in seamless coordination, the three of them swiftly moved the stack of boxes and suitcases from the car to the Vulture. Each item found its place within the aircraft's spacious interior, carefully organized and secured. As the last box was stowed away, the driver bowed respectfully, bidding farewell to y/n. With a powerful roar, the Vulture's engines came to life, propelling the aircraft towards the sky, and the aircraft finally left for the Valorant headquarters.

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7:20 PM

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