The Dream Remote -3

Have you read The Dream Remote Series - 2

I Am You

 "Who are you?" he asked the other version of himself.

"I am me. And I am you."

"That is not possible. How can you be me?"

"So you say I cannot be you — and yet you have the right to carry out justice?"

"That is different," Jason said, looking down at his hands. He couldn't see the blood, but he knew how much of it had been spilled. "What do you want?" he finally asked.

"I want justice too. Or rather — the dead want justice," his other self said.

"I have not committed any crime. I only did what I was asked to do. I am sorry if I have offended the dead. I ask only for forgiveness."

Silence followed. Five full minutes where no one spoke. Jason could hear his own heartbeat. He glanced at the president's daughter, who sat comfortably on the table, tapping it softly as though playing an invisible piano.

The Man Named Thomas

"There was a man you killed," the red-eyed Jason said at last. "His name was Thomas. Bald, with a round head and glasses that sat crooked and never stayed on his nose for more than ten seconds."

Jason frowned. "I cannot remember such a person. I have met many people whose memory never lingers."

"Hmm," the other Jason said, tapping his chin. "You killed an innocent man. His soul has never rested. He wants justice. When he died, he chose to serve me in exchange for revenge rather than pass on to the afterlife."

"He was sanctioned," Jason said, still looking at his feet.

"He was sanctioned because the man who sanctioned him was having an affair with his wife. He was erased so they could have a free run of things. So they could have it all."

Jason said nothing.

"Did you know that?" his other self pressed.

"I never knew," Jason said quietly. "I only did my duty."

The Daughter of Thomas

"What if your duty has been wrong all along?" the red-eyed Jason asked. "What if your duty has been used to remove opponents — to erase inconvenient people? Look at this girl. She is not the president's daughter. She is the daughter of Thomas. His wife — now the first lady — hid the pregnancy from the president."

Jason turned and looked at the young woman sitting at the table. He tried to hold her gaze, but he couldn't. Something in her eyes was too heavy to carry. He sank to his knees slowly, and before he could stop himself, he was sobbing.

"I am sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "I am so sorry."

"That is too late," the young woman said, not looking at him. Her voice was calm and final, like a door closing.

The Judgment

"You survived the forest. You survived the beast. You found your way here and freed the daughter of the man you killed — the man the president calls his own," the red-eyed Jason said, standing over him. "And now your sins demand that you be judged. Are you ready?"

"No," Jason said. He did not hesitate. "I am not ready. I have committed so much, but it was done unknowingly — out of ignorance. I am willing to atone for my sins if I am given a second chance. Please."

The Best Never Beg

"You are begging for your life and for forgiveness," the other Jason said with a slow shake of his head. "They say you are the best because you never let your victims live, no matter how they pleaded. Some even offered bribes, but you never batted an eye. And now you beg for forgiveness."

"I have no excuse," Jason said. "I was trained to be the best. I never knew the truth. I was only given orders."

The Forest of Second Chances

"Are you willing to take orders now — from me? Or would you rather give me your soul and live in the Forest of Second Chances forever?" the red-eyed man asked.

"Where is this Forest of Second Chances?" Jason asked.

The president's daughter answered without looking up. "The one you passed through to get here."

Jason went still. A shudder moved through him as the memory of that forest came rushing back — the living undergrowth, the obsidian birds, the chasm, the cobra. He knew without question that if the arrow had not guided him, he would have been dead long before he reached the other side. To live in that forest indefinitely, with no arrow to follow and no end in sight — no. He would not survive a single day.

"What orders would you give me?" he asked, looking up at his red-eyed reflection.

The Order

The other Jason laughed — a cold, mocking laugh that made the air feel heavier. His eyes burned a deeper crimson as the sound died away.

"Kill the president, of course."

"That is not possible," Jason said, shaking his head. "I would be a dead man within the minute."

"The deed would already be done. And dying would help settle the debt of all the blood you have spilled."

"I do not want that kind of death."

"The people you killed — did they get to choose the kind of death you gave them?"

Jason said nothing.

"No," his reflection answered for him. "They did not. So you have no right to choose yours. I will give you the girl — but you must kill the president."

The Curse

"And if I cannot?" Jason asked quietly.

The red-eyed Jason smiled — slow and without warmth.

"Then you will kill anyone you see, every hour on the hour, until the president is dead. And you will carry a madness with you — speaking to yourself out loud in public, laughing at nothing, losing control of your own body in the streets. You will become everything people already feared you were the day you walked along that sidewalk talking to yourself."

A Trap With No Exit

Jason was shaken to his core. He was trapped. He had sworn to protect the president — how could he kill him? And yet if he refused, something far worse would be placed on his head. He didn't want that curse to befall him, but he didn't want to kill the president either.

"How long do I have if I don't kill the president?" he asked.

"There is no time limit," his other self said with a grin. "But you will start by killing those closest to you first. If you don't carry out my order, it will gradually spread to everyone connected to you."

"That is cruel," Jason said, still on his knees with tears on his face.

"You call that cruel?" the daughter said, letting out a short laugh. "I may be young, but I know enough to say you are a fool."

Jason looked at her and said nothing.

The Voice of the Dead

The other Jason laughed his cold, mocking laugh, and then his expression hardened.

"You call my order cruel? You — who killed the innocent in the most brutal ways, whose victims' souls keep crying out to me for justice? Because of you I have not rested. The voices of the dead never stop."

"I was not aware they were innocent," Jason said in a broken voice. "I am deeply sorry."

"That is no excuse!" the red-eyed Jason snapped, his voice rising. "In your line of work, you are supposed to investigate — to verify the facts, to know exactly what your target has done before you end their life. But no. You chose to take whatever you were told at face value. And now that I give you an order, you dare to question me?"

I Accept

Jason fell forward onto the floor, prostrating himself fully. He had no words left. The truth had finally broken through — he had been following orders blindly his entire career, and powerful men had used him to quietly eliminate their opponents. He had been a weapon pointed at innocent people. He saw it all clearly now.

"I accept your deal," he said from the floor. "I will kill the president."

"Good," the other Jason said, his voice settling back to its usual calm. "Now take the girl."

He began to murmur an incantation, drawing a symbol in the air that looked like a door with nine locks. He blew on it three times, and the symbol dissolved into green mist.

A Month of Waiting

Back in the president's office, the mood had been heavy for weeks. It had been a full month since the best assassin had entered the remote in search of his daughter, and there had been no word since.

"What if the mission has failed?" the president thought, pacing. "What if he is already dead? Will I ever see my daughter again?"

He had pressed his advisers to send more people, but they had pushed back — if the mission had failed, there would have been a message from the remote. The silence meant things were still in motion. He should be patient.

"But it has been a month," he said, turning on them sharply.

"We know, Mr. President," one adviser replied. "Just be patient."

And at that exact moment, the remote on the table began to vibrate. Green mist poured from it, thick and swirling, and everyone in the room held their breath as two figures slowly materialized from the haze.

"Penelope!" the president exclaimed. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled his daughter into his arms.

The Battle Within

Jason stood disoriented for a few seconds, his senses recalibrating. His training had conditioned him to master any environment quickly, and within moments his surroundings came back into focus. Then his eyes landed on the president — and a wave of conflict crashed through him.

He felt the pull immediately. The order. The deal. He wrestled with himself, fighting the urge with every fiber of discipline he had left, his hands trembling at his sides and cold sweat breaking across his skin.

Then the president turned to him, beaming with a warmth Jason had never seen from the man before.

"Jason," he said, his voice full. "You have done what so many others could not. You have brought me my daughter — my joy, the one I cherish most. For this, you are no longer just a man in my service. You are someone I can call family."

End of Part 3. The hardest battles are never fought with weapons.

Jason has accepted the deal, returned with the girl, and is now standing right in front of the president being called family — what do you think he will do next? Kill him or fight the curse? Comment below and be the first to read Part 4."

Here is how it all started The Dream Remote