After the massacre, the man moved through the house in eerie silence.
Room by room, he checked for any signs of life.
Until a faint sound came from the storage room – soft, almost fragile.
He followed it.
There, sitting quietly on the floor, was a small child.
Clutching a worn teddy bear like a lifeline.
The man crouched down slowly, voice gentle but cold.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The boy looked up, eyes wide and trembling.
"Justin," he whispered.
A slow, dark smile spread across the man's face.
"No," he said softly,
"From today, your name is... Jack Armen."