Whispers from the Nest: The Vision of Dark XM Hank

I saw him rise, bathed in red, XM surging, eyes empty. Not a vision of passion, but a cold premonition.
The 2010 crossfire, the Afghan sun, Hank’s fall – it all remains vivid. But the ancient knowledge whispered of another way. The Nest, that ancient 13MAGNUS stronghold, and a forbidden ritual. A desperate gamble, yet faced with Hank’s lifeless body lying cold in the dust, I made my choice. I invoked the ritual, brought him back. Not as he was, but a simulacrum, an echo of his former self, fueled by XM.
He wouldn’t remember. His memories to be wiped clean every 1,331 days. This was the price. Farewell, Hank. May you find the answers you seek.