Shards of Reminisce Ch.54

It's midday.

Nothing important is going on at the moment, which gives me an opening to do something a little different from usual. This time I'm hanging out at Levi's place, sprawled on her couch and staring at the ceiling while I wait for her. 

Practically lazying around, but hey, I'm not complaining.

I can't help but notice she's been decorating the place since I last visited. Not much, considering her limited budget, but enough to make a difference. New wallpaper with a subtle floral pattern, a poster with some band name I don't recognize, a few small plants by the windows, and framed pictures of her and her parents scattered around that give the space a warm feel.

They look like good people…

It's surprisingly cozy, which makes a lot more sense now considering those comments she made back in Menagerie about my "very empty room." Guess she's got an eye for this domestic stuff.

But that's not why I'm here. Levi wanted to cook lunch for me—specifically, she wanted to try her hand at making those fish rolls I made for her months ago. Simple enough, really. Just seasoned rice, fresh fish, cucumber, fried shrimp if possible and some seaweed wrapping. I gave her a list and instructions, which I hope were enough for her. Now I'm stuck here waiting to see if she manages to pull it off or if I have to swoop in and save the dish.

Still, I can't help but think about other things while I wait.

Cinder's little death trap and her convenient disappearance afterward was way too fucking convenient. That manipulative bitch probably expected me to get shredded by those Atlas Knights, and now she's cowering somewhere because I survived. 

I will not forget that. Next time I see her, I'm beyond determined to punch her in the throat. Consequences be damned.

There are two people who owe me that satisfaction now.

On a lighter note, Jeanne mentioned wanting to meet up again this weekend to "talk things out" with Yang. I'm kind of dreading that conversation, but whatever. I'm not exactly thrilled to see that explosive blondie again, and I don't think it'll fix anything between us, but for Jeanne's sake, I'll give it a shot. 

Might as well close that stupid chapter of my life.

"Ma'iq! Food's ready!" Levi calls out from the kitchen, her voice carrying an excited tone she gets when she's proud of something.

My ears perk up and I push myself off the couch, rolling my neck before moving to the table. I take a seat and wait for my friend to bring her first attempt at my unique fish rolls.

Levi arrives moments later, carrying a plastic tray with a satisfied smile on her face. Well, there are the fish rolls. They look rather sad—not the perfect cylindrical shapes they're supposed to be. Instead, they're kind of mashed and lopsided, with rice sticking out at weird angles. Even the fillings don't look even.

Levi scoffs when she catches my expression, her ears drooping. "It was harder than it looked to get that shape, okay?" she says defensively, setting the tray down with a slight huff. "The seaweed kept tearing, and the rice was being stubborn since it constantly got stuck in the wrapping and all that complex things."

I might've been a little too expressive, so I just grin and shrug. "The taste is what matters, right?"

"Exactly!" She sticks out her tongue as she places the first plate in front of me. "Besides, I saw you make it look so easy back then. Figured I'd show off a little."

I lean closer to get a whiff—I can smell the fresh salmon and seasoned rice, so I pick up one of the mangled rolls with my fingers. Shape aside, it has the right color, the fish cut looks pretty good, and the filling seems fine too. 

I toss it in my mouth.

The flavor hits me, and I stop mid-chew, my eyes widening slightly as my ears perk up.

"Is something wrong?" The lynx girl asks, leaning closer with concern, her own ears twitching nervously.

I shake my head quickly, swallowing. "No, actually... this is good. Great for a first try."

And that's not a lie. I genuinely like what she just prepared.

[Affection with Levi Fang increased by 3, 23/100]

Levi's face lights up with a triumphant grin as she sits beside me, grabbing another roll and popping it into her mouth. She chews thoughtfully before giggling and adjusting a strand of her curly hair. "I knew it would taste good! I'm pretty proud of myself. Never made something this complex before."

"Getting it right on the first try? You're pretty damn good."

"Well, I had a wonderful teacher," she says with a playful wink, then pauses. "Even if that teacher only gave me a set of instructions and then disappeared for months saying nothing."

I wince a little as I clear my throat and grab another roll. "Yeah, well... that wasn't exactly planned."

"I know." Her expression softens. "I'm just glad you're back."

“Still, tho. Delicious.”

Levi closes her eyes with a smile and accepts the praise with her head held high, looking ridiculously pleased with herself.

I roll my eyes at her display, but I still show her a smile.

Then her ears suddenly perk up, her expression shifting to something more mischievous as she quickly grabs another roll. "Open your mouth."

I raise an eyebrow. "What are you—"

"Just do it, trust me."

I comply, opening my mouth, and she feeds me the roll directly, then immediately boops my nose with her finger. 

"Boop." She giggles as I scrunch up my nose.

"Really? We're doing this now?".

"Oh, come on, don't pretend you don't like it."

She's not wrong. 

Naturally, I grab another roll and give it to her. She eagerly bites it, so I poke her nose in return, making her giggle. This repeats over and over—taking turns feeding each other until the tray is completely empty.

[Affection with Levi Fang increased by 5, 28/100]

"You know," Levi says, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression, "this is way better than eating alone."

"Yeah?" I ask, wiping my hands on my wrist.

"Definitely. Food always tastes better with company." She pauses, then adds quietly, "Especially good company."

There's something in the way she says it, but before I can think too much about it, she's already moving to clear the plates.

"Leave it," I say, standing up. "You cooked, I'll clean."

"Oh no, you don't." She playfully swats my hand away from the dishes. "You're a guest. Besides, I want to savor this victory a little longer."

"Victory?"

"I successfully cooked something complex as you put it. That's a win in my book."

I snort. "The bar's set pretty low then."

"Hey!" She throws a crumpled napkin at me, which I easily dodge. "I'll have you know I can make other complex dishes, it's just a matter of time that doesn’t let me and the price, I hate I need to buy by unit and not by weight."

"Sure, girl."

"Don't push it."

After that we end up on her small couch afterward, and somehow she convinces me to help her go over some flight theory for her upcoming midterm. And that’s when I noticed that she's got textbooks and notes pretty neatly arranged. All of them talking about aerodynamics, navigation systems, and weather patterns. That organization explains why she aced her first rounds of exams.

"Okay, quiz me on this," she says, pointing to a diagram filled with numbers and lines, which reminds me a little when I tried to read those books about robotics. She's sitting close enough that our knees are almost touching.

I squint at the page, trying to make sense of the technical jargon but eventually let out a sigh. "Uh... what the hell am I even looking at here?"

She giggles, leaning closer to point at different parts of the diagram. "It's about lift coefficients and wing design. See, this part here shows how air flows over—"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there." I hold up a hand. "I don’t even understand the numbers, no way I will understand what you will try to explain."

"Come on, it's not that complicated once you break it down." Her ears flicker more, as she nudges closer. "The basic principle is just—"

"Levi." I give her a look. "You already know this stuff backwards and forwards. Hell, maybe you must have been studying for years by yourself."

She pauses, a slight blush creeping up her neck. "Maybe... but it's good to review, right? Make sure I really understand it?"

Right. Review. 

"Fine, but I'm probably giving you totally redundant questions.."

"That's okay. Sometimes explaining things to someone else helps me understand them better." She flips through her notebook, and I notice how neat her handwriting is, color-coded and organized. "Besides, even if you are dumb you aren’t that dumb."

“Oi."

She sticks out her tongue again, making me roll my eyes.

"Let's just focus on making sure you pass this thing."

"I'm going to ace it," she says with confidence, then adds more quietly, "but thanks for helping, anyway."

We spend the next hour going through her notes, with her explaining concepts that fly completely over my head while I nod along and try to ask questions that don't sound completely idiotic or should make sense since, and she explains it very well or at least I think she is giving good explanations despite I don’t really understand them

"You know," I say when she grabs some water, "you really love this stuff, don't you?"

Her face lights up. "I told you, didn't I? Flying across the skies in a cool bullhead. Not just as a passenger, but really flying—being in control, understanding how it all works." She gestures at her books. "All of this? It's just the beginning."

I don’t have much to comment about that, too different from mine.

Just get strong enough and tell everyone to fuck off. Getting closer, just a little more time.

We hang out for a little while longer, her "studying" turning more into just talking about her dreams and plans. Eventually, though, I need to get going. Neo said she wanted to keep training and was planning something interesting for me, so of course I wouldn’t refuse. 

Need every advantage after all.

As I'm getting ready to leave, I turn around to see Levi acting a little strange. She opens her mouth a couple of times, then closes it, her ears twitching differently.

"Everything okay?" I ask, pausing by the door.

She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. "Yeah, it's just..." She takes a breath, then seems to think better of it. "Never mind. It's nothing important."

"Okay."

"Yeah." She gives me a simple smile. "Just... thanks for coming over. For the lunch and helping me study, even though you probably found it boring."

"Kinda, but didn’t mind it."

"I know." She chuckles, shaking her head as she adjusts her hair.  "Can you come next week?"

"Probably. If you want."

"I do." The words come out a little too quickly. "But don’t feel pressured or anything."

I give her a nod and a quick wave. "If you want other recipes to try, just send me a message."

Her face brightens again. "Will do. And Ma'iq?" She catches my attention just as I'm about to step out. "Be careful out there, okay?"

"Always am."

"No, you're not." She crosses her arms, giving me a pointed look. "But try anyway."

I merely roll my eyes. “Sure will, mom.”

----------------------------------------

The sun dips low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red as I cruise through Vale's industrial district on my bike.

The chosen warehouse comes into view—an entirely different building from last time, which is strange. Just how many abandoned warehouses are scattered around this district? But that line of thought doesn’t last much. 

I keep going and reach the sidewalk, not bothering to park properly. Instead, I just drive over the curb, getting as close as possible to the building before jumping off my bike. I touch it and it dematerializes instantly, vanishing into my inventory like always.

Passing through the already open door, I get to see that this place looks like shit, honestly. Peeling paint, broken windows, and crates stacked everywhere that are practically beige from all the dust coating them. Some crates are just broken too. The metal support beams are rusted to hell, and I can see the dimming daylight through the big hole in the roof.

I wonder how many of these warehouses are scattered around Vale or this district alone. Seems like there's always a different one for every occasion—meetings, storage, you name it. Does that prick Roman already have an entire network of them mapped out? Or Neo is just lucky?

But I don't get time to think about the possibility as my ears twitch suddenly, and instinct takes over. I jerk my head to the side just as something whistles past, close enough that I feel the rush of displaced air. Without thinking, I summon my claws and get into a combat stance, spinning toward the source of the surprise attack.

And it is Neo standing there, grinning at me with that vicious smirk I know so well. She's twirling her parasol's hidden blade between her fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world, her other hand resting casually on her hip.

"Was that really necessary?" I growl, though I'm already relaxing slightly.

She nods enthusiastically, her grin widening even further. Then she makes an exaggerated shrugging motion.

I maintain my glare for a moment before letting out a tired sigh, dropping my shoulders and running a hand through my hair. Should've seen that one coming, really. 

Despite how she's been acting lately—all nice and affectionate when we're alone together at home—she's still the same Neopolitan I met months ago. The same woman who gets off on violence and hurting people. She's just... different with me now.

"Right," I mutter, shaking my head. "Good to know some things never change."

She tilts her head and makes a mock-hurt expression, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. Then she winks and walks away to grab her pink parasol, sliding the blade back inside before opening it and twirling it over her shoulder.

"So what do you want to teach me now?"

She puts a finger under her chin, looking up to the roof pensively, clearly considering her options.

"Don't waste my time with that cutesy bullshit." A familiar voice cuts through from another part of the warehouse, and I'm surprised to find Miltia standing there with her arms crossed. Except, she's dressed completely different from what I'm used to—a red sports bra and fitting black pants, her hair tied back in a practical ponytail instead of her usual curly styled look.

"Miltia? What the hell are you doing here?" She's the last person I'd expect in this kind of place.

"Because of your psycho girlfriend over there." She jerks her thumb toward Neo, who mockingly waves with her free hand. "She paid me to come help with your training, and honestly, I would have told her to shove it, but..." Her jaw tightens slightly. "I had free time, and I've been slacking off with my own training lately."

However, she finishes that sentence by glaring daggers at Neo, who only places a hand over her mouth and giggles silently, shoulders shaking with amusement.

And that's enough for me to understand that Neo humiliated her. Badly, judging by Miltia's expression. I guess that's the most reasonable explanation for why she's here.

"Let me guess," I say, looking between them. "She-?"

"She got lucky."Miltia's cheeks flush red, but her glare hardens. 

Neo makes an exaggerated 'aww' expression and pats the air condescendingly, which only makes Miltia's eye twitch.

"Look, are we doing this or not?" Miltia snaps, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Because if we're just going to stand around making small talk, I've got better things to do in my free time."

Neo claps her hands together excitedly and points at me, then at the twin.

"You want me to fight her?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Neo nods and makes a 'so-so' gesture with her hand.

Miltia scoffs. "If all you wanted was a spar, there are better places than this dump." However, she still grabs her claws from her belt and puts them on, clicking them together and causing a few sparks that surprise me with how sharp they look. "But I can still work with this. Besides, maybe I'll get to see what all the fuss is about."

Obviously, I raise my fists and get back into my stance. I guess it's time to face off against another person on semi-equal terms. I've only been fighting Grimm or abominations lately, and I don't want to count the fights where I was at a big disadvantage.

Neo steps back and leans against a stack of crates, parasol resting on her shoulder as she settles in to watch. Getting comfortable to enjoy the show. Then she makes a simple gesture with her free hand—a little wave that I assume means 'begin.'

"I won't go easy on you just because we know each other," Miltia says, rolling her shoulders. Then she glances at Neo with a smirk. "Or because I let you have a quick taste before."

Why the hell is she saying that? And why does Neo's grin suddenly look uncomfortably wide?

"I should say the same thing," I reply, rolling my neck and placing one foot in front of the other.

But that's all it takes for her to make the first move, and damn, she's fast. Faster than I expected. Her claws whistle through the air in an arc aimed at my chest, but I manage to twist away, feeling the wind from her strike. She immediately follows up with the other hand, forcing me to duck low.

"Not bad reflexes," she says, already repositioning herself with a fluid grace. "But…."

She comes at me again, this time with a series of rapid slashes that force me to give ground as I parry and block. Each strike flows into the next with precision. I can see real training in her movements—she's not just swinging wildly like some street thug. Every attack has a purpose, setting up the next one.

I try to counter with a straight punch, but she deflects it with one claw while raking at my face with the other. I barely get my arm up in time to block, feeling the metal scrape against my aura.

"You fight like a brawler, and I fought one before." she observes, dancing back out of range with an almost mocking grace. "All power, no finesse. If you really want to use claws effectively, you need a little more... elegance."

"Worked for me so far."

"Has it though?" She lunges forward in a low crouch, claws extended like a predator pouncing, and I have to jump back to avoid getting my legs shredded. "Because from where I'm standing, you're purely reactive. No strategy."

She isn't exactly wrong, though it's a little early to be making such confident remarks.

So I decide to go on the offensive.

I lunge forward, aiming a quick jab at her chest but she sidesteps smoothly and her claws rake across my extended arm. I pull back and try a different angle, coming in low with an uppercut, but she's already dancing backward, those damn claws flicking out to catch my knuckles as I overextend.

"Too slow," she taunts, staying just beyond my reach.

I press forward again, this time with a combination—left hook followed by a right cross. She deflects the first with one claw and leans back from the second, then immediately counters with both claws in a scissoring motion that forces me to jerk backward or lose chunks of flesh.

Every time I think I'm getting close enough to land something solid, she flows away like water, those claws always there to discourage me from pursuing. I try to rush her, hoping to overwhelm her with pure aggression, but she pivots on her heel and I find myself chasing air while her claws trace burning lines across my ribs.

"Frustrating, isn't it?" She places a hand on her hip. "You're strong, but strength doesn't mean much if you can't land a hit."

I frown and try once more, feinting high before dropping into a low tackle, but she reads it perfectly. She hops backward just enough that my fingers barely graze her sports bra, then immediately punishes my commitment with a downward slash that I have to roll away from.

She has put me to her pace; I need to change it so a new plan forms in my head.

I feint left and then drive forward with my right fist, putting power behind it. She sees it coming and tries to deflect, but this time I'm ready for it. I grab her wrist with my other hand and yank her forward.

She gasps, stumbling toward me.

I drive my knee up toward her stomach, aiming to end this quickly. But she's more flexible than I gave her credit for. She twists in my grip and rakes her free claw across my shoulder, forcing me to let go with a pained grunt.

"Nice try, kitty," she says, flipping backward to create distance. "But I've learned a few more tricks after a particular fight."

"And you talk too much during fights."

"It's called psychological warfare. Keep up." She grins and comes at me again.. She cartwheels to my left, slashing at my legs, then springs up and tries to catch me with an overhead strike.

I deflect with one claw and catch her wrist with my other hand, but she immediately brings her other claw around in a vicious arc. I have to release her to block, and she uses the momentum to spin and try to catch me with a backhand slash.

She's not giving me time to think, just react. Every exchange leaves me feeling like I'm a step behind, like I'm playing catch-up with her.

However, as we separate again and start circling each other, my brain finally catches up to something. Her patterns are starting to make sense. She favors her right hand for opening strikes, always follows an acute attack with a low one, and she has a tell when she's about to try one of those acrobatic moves—her weight shifts to her back foot just before she launches herself.

When I see that shift again, I'm ready for it. Instead of backing away from her cartwheel, I step into it, catching her mid-spin with a solid palm strike to her ribs with all my weight behind it.

Her aura flares bright red, and she staggers back, clutching her side. "Okay, that actually hurt."

"Maybe lay off the fancy moves?"

"Maybe you just got lucky." She straightens up, rolling her shoulders, but I can see she's favoring that side now. "But you're dead wrong if you think that's enough to stop me."

She goes to prove her point by darting in close, suddenly switching tactics. Her claws hook around mine to yank them down and force open my guard. One catches me across the chest, another across my thigh, the metal biting through my aura. 

But with her this close, I go for a direct headbutt.

It lands perfectly against her forehead with a resounding thud, completely dazing her as she yelps in pain and surprise. I use that opening to grab her shoulder and drive a knee directly into her stomach, knocking all the wind out of her lungs and watching her aura flare and flicker dangerously.

But I make the mistake of taking a moment to savor the hit. She suddenly locks onto my eyes, clenching her teeth through the pain, then grabs my arms and uses them as leverage to swing herself around and rake her other claw across my back.

"Fuck!" I stumble forward, feeling the sharp pain even through my aura.

"D-Don't take... t-too long when you land a... fuck... a direct hit like that..." Miltia wheezes, holding her stomach with trembling legs. "I-If this was for real... I could've killed you just then."

I want to scoff at what sounds like sore loser talk, but she's actually right. I took too long savoring that minor victory when I already had her in a terrible position. I won’t commit that mistake again.

But that doesn't mean I don't still have the advantage. I quickly cash in on her weakened state, charging forward. Her eyes widen as she cannot get away in time. I slam my shoulder against her midsection and use that momentum to lift and toss her body into the air. But rather than letting her fall and recover, I use the brief opening to grab her ankle and slam her against the concrete floor.

Her aura shatters instantly with a sharp crystalline sound, and she curls up with a pained gasp.

And like that the fight is over.

[Affection with (Neo Politan) increased by 3, 53/100] 

And the only signal is Neo who is giving a very enthusiastic round of applause with a wide grin, however her mismatched eyes are strange, like the time when she was hurting people.

I walk over to the Malachite twin and extend my hand to help her up. "Come on, let's get you—"

But before it can get close, she slaps my hand away with more force than necessary. "I'm not that weak." She scowls as she pushes herself up slightly with her elbow, trying to salvage some dignity.

I frown at that reaction. It was completely unnecessary. "Right..."

The stupid girl then tries to push herself up, determined to prove her point, but her trembling arms give out and she ends up falling back down with a frustrated grunt. Her cheeks flush red, and she looks away from me, jaw clenched in what I know it is embarrassment.

"Carry me," she says in a low tone.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that." I lean an ear closer.

She scowls at me again. "Don't be an ass about it."

"I'm not being an ass. I just want to make sure I heard you correctly." I cross my arms, enjoying this more than I probably should. "Say please."

Her scowl deepens, and for a moment I think she might actually try to crawl away rather than ask nicely. But after a moment of stubborn silence, she lets out a sigh of defeat. "Please... help me up."

"There we go." I move closer and kneel so I can gently pick her up bridal style, partly to help but mostly to tease her even more for acting like an idiot earlier. But to my surprise, she's quick to wrap her arms around my neck and rest her head against my shoulder. 

It's... confusing, but I still carry her toward a pile of crates that look less dirty so she can rest.

"This is embarrassing," she mutters against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck.

"Could be worse."

I glance over at my girlfriend, who is actually filming us with her scroll, a shit-eating grin plastered across her face.

"I spoke too soon."

Miltia lets out a groan in response.

I set her down carefully on one of the lower crates, making sure her back can lean against something stable before I let go. She immediately misses the contact, though she tries to hide it.

"You hit way harder than I expected," she says, gingerly touching her ribs and wincing. "Definitely stronger than that blonde bitch from months ago."

"Yang?"

"Probably. Didn't bother to learn her name." Miltia stretches her legs carefully, testing for any lingering pain. "I'm still pissed that she got lucky on us, and Junior was a complete dumbass in how he handled her." She pokes my chest with one finger. "Compared to her, I can tell you punch a lot harder. Might've even knocked a tooth loose if you'd hit my face."

She pauses, then adds with a slight smirk, "Not that I'd let you mark up this pretty face."

I nod. "Just a few hits and your aura was already flickering. That's not much of a safety net."

"Tell me about it." She sighs, looking frustrated with herself. "I figured I could dance around you long enough to wear you down. Worked better in theory."

“Bad luck but I have pretty good stamina.”

And Neo snorts loudly.

"You tease…" She rolls her shoulders. "I must recover my training. Can't afford to get hit at all with aura reserves this pathetic."

Neo hops down from the crates and saunters over, twirling her parasol with obvious amusement. She points at Miltia, then at me, then makes a 'so-so' gesture with her hand, clearly critiquing my performance.

"Hey, I won," I retort.

She merely pouts and pulls out her scroll, typing rapidly. A moment later, my scroll chimes with a message notification.

'You got hit way too much, but your finishing move has my complete approval, kitten. Very decisive. 💕'

"That's not fair, Neo."

She giggles silently, shoulders shaking with mirth. Then, without warning, she moves to Miltia's side and practically glues herself to the injured girl, wrapping her arms around her and nuzzling her cheek against Miltia's.

"Get off me, you psychotic bitch," Miltia snaps, but she's too weakened to do anything about it

Neo only tightens her grip, clearly enjoying Miltia's helpless irritation. She even has the audacity to pat Miltia's head condescendingly.

I let out a sigh. "Neo."

That's enough to make her stop and look at me with blatantly fake puppy eyes and a quivering lip, as if I'm being unreasonably mean to her.

"You wanted to help me train, so can we continue with that?" I ask, trying to keep my tone reasonable. 

Neo reluctantly releases Miltia, but not before giving her one final, overly affectionate squeeze that makes the twin's eye twitch in annoyance.

"I won’t thank you for that," Miltia mutters, adjusting her sports bra and trying to regain some composure. "Your girl is seriously unhinged."

Neo beams at what she clearly considers a compliment, giving Miltia a thumbs up.

"You have no idea," I mutter under my breath.

"I'll recover my aura in a while," Miltia says, waving us off dismissively as she pulls out her scroll. "So do whatever you gotta do. I'll just sit here and... watch the show, I guess."

She fiddles with her scroll, probably texting her sister.

'Class change: Dancer'

The familiar weight of my claws vanishes, replaced by the lighter, more elegant feel of chakrams materializing in my hands. The twin rings catch the dim warehouse light, their polished metal surfaces gleaming.

I walk to the other side of our makeshift ring as Neo takes position where I was standing before. I settle into my new stance; loose and flexible, a complete contrast to the rigid, powerful posture I held with my pugilist class. My weight shifts from foot to foot as I find my center.

Then I tap my foot, finding the rhythm and tempo that feels just right. Searching for a tune that only I can hear, letting my body attune to the flow I'll need for this dance.

Neo notices the change immediately. Her mismatched eyes light up with excitement as she recognizes what I'm doing. She twirls her parasol with obvious delight, then gives an elegant spin and offers me a long, theatrical bow—the same one she gave when she first introduced me to Roman.

Clearly, she approves of this.

"Oh, this should be interesting," Miltia comments, momentarily looking up from her scroll. 

That's when Neo shatters into a million pink and white shards that disappear just as quickly.

My ears twitch and I drop into a backbend, my spine curving as Neo's spinning kick whistles through the air where my head was a moment before. 

I flow into a backflip and launch both chakrams at her while still in motion. The rings spin through the air with the expected precision, but Neo is ready for them. She catches one with her parasol's hook and snatches the other out of the air with her free hand, twirling both weapons like they're part of some elaborate performance.

"Show off," I mutter, though I'm grinning.

She performs a pirouette before she sends them both flying back at me.

I balance on one foot, arms extended for perfect balance, and catch both projectiles as they return. Not wanting to lose the rhythm, I immediately leap to the side, using that momentum to propel myself forward with my own kick aimed at her head.

But Neo drops low, splitting her legs wide in a perfect split, and sweeps at my ankles. I feel myself falling, but instead of fighting it, I use both hands to spring back up, turning the stumble into another fluid movement as I land back on my feet.

That’s when I hear a whistle, which is coming from Miltia.

Neo responds to the compliment by blowing her a kiss, which nearly gets her caught by my follow-up chakram throw. She twists away at the last second, the ring barely missing her nose and snaps her head in my direction, her smile turning into a savage grin.

My weapon ricochets and returns to me as expected.

Neo seems to enjoy herself immensely.

I spin and launch both chakrams in a wide arc, letting them ricochet off the walls to come at her from multiple angles. 

She deflects one with her parasol, but the second clips her shoulder, spinning her around. Instead of stumbling, she turns it into another elegant spin, using it to launch herself at me feet-first.

I catch her ankle and use her own momentum to redirect her past me, but she twists in my grip and manages to tap my temple with her free foot—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make a point.

We separate, both of us breathing slightly harder but grinning. 

This is fun.

However, Neo raises a hand, signaling for me to stop. With that sign I relax my stance, letting the chakrams rest at my sides as I catch my breath. She walks over with that familiar smug smile, clearly having something else in mind.

She then starts demonstrating different poses in front of me; graceful movements that flow from one to the next. Her body moves with an almost liquid fluidity, each position blending seamlessly into the next. So pay full attention, trying to memorize the sequence, then attempt to copy her moves. And quickly realize that it's harder than it looks. Despite the dancer class my movements feel clunky compared to hers, but I manage to keep up reasonably well.

Then she does a perfect pirouette, spinning on one foot with her arms elegantly positioned above her head. She just added the arms to mess with me.

Without thinking twice, I attempt the same move. I wobble slightly, my arms flailing for balance, but somehow complete the spin without falling over.

Neo claps silently, looking genuinely pleased with my progress. Her mismatched eyes sparkle with what might be pride. Then her expression shifts to something more... challenging. She slowly lowers herself into the same perfect split from before, her legs extending in a straight line parallel to the floor. Then, using nothing but the strength of her legs and core, she slowly rises back to a standing position, making it look absolutely effortless.

The same move she used mid-fight to dodge my attacks.

I gulp. Now she wants me to copy that move. Looking down at my legs and then back at her, I know this is going to be...a little difficult. Or more like very fucking difficult.

"This doesn't look nearly as easy as you're making it seem," I mutter.

Still, I lower myself down, trying to mimic her movement. I get about halfway into the split before my muscles start screaming in protest. Every fiber in my legs feels like it's about to snap. I feel like I can't go any further without tearing something important.

"This is as far as I—"

Neo suddenly appears behind me like a ghost and places her hands on my shoulders, clearly intending to provide some "helpful" assistance.

"Neo, wait—" I start to protest, but I can already see that predatory gleam in her eyes.

I immediately close my legs and scramble away from her sadistic version of help before she can push me down.

Miltia snickers from her position, clearly enjoying my struggle. "What's wrong, tough guy? Can't handle some stretching?"

I turn to glare at her. "Oh yeah? Let's see you do it then, smartass."

She rolls her eyes dramatically and hops off the crate—apparently her aura has recovered enough for her to move normally again. "You want a demonstration? Fine."

Without hesitation, she lowers herself into a perfect split; her form as flawless as Neo's. Then she rises back up using just her leg strength, exactly like Neo did. She even adds a little flourish at the end, brushing imaginary dust off her hands.

Well, fuck. She completely shut my mouth.

"That's basic training from Lady Browning's Preparatory Academy for Girls," she says with a supremely smug expression, clearly savoring my deflated pride. "Not that hard when you've been drilling flexibility since you were twelve. We had to be able to do that in heels too."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Right. Fancy academy training."

Despite my pride taking a considerable hit, I position myself to try again. I'm not about to let two women completely show me up without at least making a respectable attempt.

Neo immediately moves behind me again, that same predatory grin spreading across her face. This time, when I start lowering myself, she places her hands on my shoulders more gently—but I can tell she's just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Neo, I swear, if you push me before I'm ready—"

She pushes. Hard. 

"FUCK!" I yelp as my legs are forced into a much deeper split than my muscles are prepared for. The burn is immediate and intense, like someone just lit my tendons on fire. My legs automatically snap shut in self-defense.

Neo giggles silently, her shoulders shaking with mirth, clearly delighted with my suffering. Meanwhile, Miltia openly laughs from the sidelines, not even trying to hide it.

"Fuck you both," I groan, trying to extract myself from this painful position with what little dignity I have left.

Neo just pats my head condescendingly and offers me a hand up. 

"You know what? I'm sticking to punching things," I declare, accepting her help despite my wounded pride. "At least that doesn't require me to dislocate my hips."

Miltia wipes a tear from her eye. "Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad. You almost had it."

"Almost had what? Body split in half?"

'Practice makes perfect, kitten.'

"That sounds like a threat," I mutter.

Her innocent smile suggests it absolutely is.

----------------------------------------

It's nighttime by now, and Miltia has been long gone after I told her I wouldn't be coming to work tonight.

Only Neo and I remain in the warehouse, seated on the dusty floor. I'm sitting cross-legged while Neo has her legs extended in front of her, arms propped behind her for support as she stares up at the hole in the roof.

I don't know why we're still here, just sitting in comfortable silence. For some reason we decided to stay and watch as the last traces of sunlight faded away, replaced by pale moonlight streaming through the broken ceiling. It was a pointless thing to do, but we did it anyway.

It was those moments when my mind wandered to relatively recent events, and a few things stand out.

My ears flicker before I look down at Neo, who seems completely absorbed in her stargazing.

"Neo."

She turns her head toward me, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Do you and Roman hate Cinder?"

Neo rolls her eyes and lets out a silent huff.

"Yeah, stupid question," I admit with a shrug. "But why haven't you two done something about it? You're both strong, especially you."

She tilts her head, probably mulling over the question. She chews her lower lip thoughtfully before meeting my gaze again.

Then the usual pink letters appear above her head. 'As much as I love my Dumdum, he's a coward at heart.'

I furrow my brow at that. "A coward?"

Slimy bastard, yeah. Racist prick, absolutely. But a coward? After everything he's done and said, I simply can't picture Roman as someone who cowers in a corner begging for mercy, I thought he had a pride.

More letters flicker to life.

'He might have plenty of good traits that make him the thief this stupid city dreads, but he cares more about surviving than anything else. Besides, he's still scared of her. That bitch knew exactly how to leave a lasting impression.'

I click my tongue, my ears flattening against my head as I remember how Cinder turned that poor bastard to ash with a single touch back in the warehouse months ago. That scared me shitless too, if I'm being honest.

"And you?" I ask.

I already know the answer. That look of genuine fear she had back then was all I needed to see.

Neo looks away and lets out a silent sigh.

'It scared me too. There's no point in causing chaos if you're just going to get turned to ash with a touch.'

And that's valid. That's completely fucking valid.

Another moment of silence falls over us.

I use the quiet to think about that particular situation and our bitchy boss. Cinder hasn't done anything like that since. The closest she came to repeating that display was when she melted glass in front of me at the club, playing mind games to keep me in line.

Which I'll never be, fuck that woman.

So the solution seems simple in comparison; just don't get touched.

"Have you thought about killing her?"

'Way too many times,' appears instantly. 'Pierce a kidney or lung, slit her throat, then escape. Nobody could survive that, aura or not.'

"Why hasn't Roman let you?"

She shrugs, apparently as confused by Roman's reasoning as I am.

I scratch my head in thought. "Did she tell you two something else when I wasn't around? Some other threat or plans?"

Neo taps her chin thoughtfully, then suddenly her eyes widen. She looks down and produces something from her pocket—a tube with a yellow crystal shard that catches the moonlight perfectly.

'Cinder told us to ALWAYS give these things to her when we find them.'

I freeze instantly, my heart stopping the second I see the shard in Neo's hand.

"W-Where did you get this?"

Never in my wildest thoughts did I imagine this would happen.

'Killed some weird guy and this thing was glowing on him, so I took it. Never planned to give it to her though.'

I completely ignore the casual mention of murder—that's normal for Neo, and the idiot probably had it coming. All my attention is entirely on the shard in that tube.

"Give it to me," I say, extending my hand with barely controlled urgency.

She blinks in confusion but nods, placing the tube  in my palm.

Without thinking twice, I crush everything in my hand like I always do. I don't care if something might happen or if there's a crippling backlash from absorbing it—Neo's here, so if I'm unlucky, she'll take care of me and keep me safe.

However, rather than getting a notification from my system or something similar, everything goes black.

Without any warning, without any transition, everything simply vanishes. The warehouse, Neo, the night sky—all of it disappears, leaving me completely and utterly alone in an endless black void.

Fuck.

Where am I?

Everything—or nothing—stretches endlessly in all directions, a suffocating darkness that absorbs sound, light, even thought. I try to move, but there's no sense of up or down, no ground beneath my feet.

I'm just... existing in nothingness, but I don't even feel like I'm floating. It's as if the concept of physical sensation has been stripped away.

Then, gradually, shapes begin to emerge from the black void. Twisted, impossible geometries that hurt to look at directly. Structures that seem to exist in too many dimensions at once, their surfaces shifting and writhing like living things. My stomach lurches as I try to focus on them, bile rising in my throat but I manage to control it on time.

At first I forced myself to take a deep breath, but the air—if it can even be called that—tastes of ash, rotten, old. It burns my lungs with each breath causing me to double over, coughing violently, my fist pounding against my chest as I try desperately to clear whatever poison I'm breathing.

But I never get the chance to recover. Through my coughing fit, a shape slowly takes form in front of me. Small, delicate even, but every instinct I have starts screaming. A black mass of writhing tendrils and tentacles, just a slimy amalgamation of darkness. My hands start trembling without my permission. Somehow, I can tell that thing is smiling at me. A very wide, predatory smile, as dozens of white eyes open from all over the mass of flesh, all staring directly at me.

My throat closes up.

"Hihihih! Well, well, well... who would be stupid enough to actually touch one of those?" The voice is completely unfitting—childlike, innocent, sweet—but it sends ice crawling down my spine. "I mean, I didn't expect much from those mindless little things wandering around, but still... someone was bound to be curious, eventually!"

More shapes emerge from the surrounding darkness. Twisted amalgamations of creatures and grimm; swans with too many necks that writhe like serpents, black frogs with human teeth arranged in concentric circles, beowolves with decaying flesh and dislocated jaws.

My knees buckle. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead.

All of them merge and flow around the mass of black flesh. I can't look anymore. I force my gaze downward, but even staring at nothing, my hands won't stop shaking.

My chest feels like someone's sitting on it. Each breath comes in short, desperate gasps. My heart pounds so violently I can feel it in my throat, and there's something primal clawing at the inside of my skull, telling me I need to run, to hide, to get away from this thing as far as possible.

Every hair on my body stands on end. My ears are pinned flat against my head, and I can feel my tail bristled out..

Something cold and slimy touches my chin, forcing me to look up and filling me with utter disgust. "Hmm... but you're... different, aren't you? Not like the others who stumble in here by mere accident..."

I try to speak, but only a strangled whine escapes my throat. My breathing becomes rapid and shallow, each gasp barely bringing in any air.

"Wait a minute..." All the eyes widen in perfect unison. I can feel them boring into me, and my vision starts to blur at the edges. "Could it be? No... no, no, that's impossible. He's with me, like it was always meant to be. Writing and creating beautiful stories together. But..."

More tendrils launch forward. They touch my arms, my face, my chest, exploring every part of me while I'm frozen in place. My teeth chatter uncontrollably. The thing's excitement radiates off it in waves, and my stomach drops like I'm falling from a great height.

"Yes... Ý̸̢͈̹̮̝̦̫͔̘͐́̓͋̂̽̄̓̀̊́͘͜͝͝E̴̞̰̩̘͈̘̾S̷̮̠̟̹̹̖̹̀̋̎̉͑͆͂́̀̆̀̐̈́̆͋,̵̙̩̪̮̠̘̞̯̗̀̂̂͘͝ ̵̨̛̮̫̗̻͎̜̥̭̞̦̞̐̊̈́̀̊͋̐̌͊̾̌͘͝Y̸̲̺͓̞̊͐̀̓́͛̏̎̈́̑̊͒̚È̸͍̳̟̳̒̏S̷͍̈͆͛̃͛̓̀̓̅́͛̒,̵̧̛̰͚͖̻̣͎̣͖͇͓͇̯̹̎̓̂̀̇́̑̌̔͊͘̚ ̸̢̛̜̪̻̠͍̮̘̤̌̓͌́̋́͌̋́̓̕͘͝Y̴̛̻̼͍͈̠͐́̅̐̈́̏̓̿̓͌̑̇̄Ȩ̶͖̯͓̰͓̼̙͓̦͗̈́͘̚Ś̴̡̢͙͎̰̯̝͉̙͖̲̠!̶̯̻̘̩̗͌̒̀ͅͅ"̸̡̫̱͚̝͐̓͛͗̄̒͗̉͘̚ Her voice rises to a shriek that makes my ears ring and my vision 

white out for a moment.

 ̷̢̭̭̭͖͖̫̭͓͙̲͖̓̊̄̏̃̃̄͊͗̄̍̆͂̕"̷̨̛̹̭̺͙̗̜̻̗̦̆̐̆̓̍͜F̵̛̪̭͙̀̈́̀̋̈̇͋O̶̧͕̹̥̮͕̟̫͖̼̦͙͍͗́̐̎͛͊͐̇͑̋͑͌̾̕͜U̵͚͈̳͑̾͛͛͆̈͛̄̂̍͘N̶̜̹̭̝̘̟̩̯̋D̵̹̤̫̪̮̤̬͕̪̈̄͜͜͠ ̸̧͍̰̣̙͓̑̂̾͐̽́̕͘Y̶̲̺͇͉̟͚̮̩͋͌O̷͚̩̥͕̮̬͗̔͒̈́͜U̸̢̡̡̲̰̘͇̜̲̳̟̪͕̳͆̿͜!̷̛̹̆̈́̾́̅̈́̌̌̔͝ͅ ̸̤̮̪̹́͐̂͘F̴̘̲̙̠̞̪̒̓͛̑͗͗́̎͑̚͘͝͠O̵̡̤̗̜̍͆̾̒̈́͠Ų̶̀̀̒̈́͛͊̇̅͆͐͠͠͝Ñ̸̢̹̹̯͓̠͈̜̝̹̙̖̭̣́͒̓̆͊̃̓̄̃̈́̑͘͜͠͠D̸̡̡̥̲̼͕͓̜͈̰͓̣̱̺̉̽̆͠ͅ ̷͙̤̓̏̽Y̵̛͍̟͖͛̄̅O̷̡̡̖̗̝̿̒͂̈́͗Ȗ̴̖̤̞̗̺̻͚̙̞͔͔̦̘͆̍͋̀̒̔̀̄̀̀͛̊̎̚͜!̷̛͇̫̂́͑͌̌̌̿̀͝ ̴̩͉̮̖͎͖͑͒͌̆̌ͅF̵̟̀̃̓̾̇̽̾̃̌͐͋̔̿O̶͖̖̼̟͈̥̭̲̫͑͋Ŭ̸͉̱̔̓̉̇́͛̋̽͐͂́̄͒͝ͅǸ̷̨̢̧̩͖̘̥̞̜̜̮̦̘͈̎̊̄̽̏͘̕͝͝ͅD̷̡̥̩̐͆ ̸͚̟͇̙̪̣͍̟̺̺̍͐̏̓͂̊̾̃̾͌̕ͅÝ̸̡͚̞̗̥͙̮̩̲͉̩̉͊̉̏͜͝Ò̷̢͈͚̭̅̋́̿̐̆̿͑͝Ư̴̗̯̯̦̗̗̳͉͙̼͚͈͌̄́̽̂͑͗͑̊̈́͑͂̃͘!̴̨͉̭̟̇̉̇͂̽ ̷̢͚̘̗̏̒̋̈́̌̈́́͋͐͗͗̂͊͂̉F̴̡̗͔̱̮̗̥̮̤̣̥̖͍̠̮͋͌͂̋̉̒͑̅̂̐͝͠Ị̸̞̗̞͖̬̪̭̉̈́́̅̉̆͆̉N̵̢̳̹͓͉̹̬̻͙̈́͒̈́̀̔̍̀͗̉̎̐̆̑̊͠A̴̹̜͙̱̱͍̳̻͍͉̖̩̠̝̓͊Ḻ̷̰̗̉̈́͂ͅĹ̷̡͎̤͖͎̖͎͙̩̄̒̈̀̽͗̑̕Y̸̨̫͈͓̗͉̯͍̥̮͉̬̼̩̋̊̾͆̿́̀͘̕̚ ̵̘̤͈͌̀͝F̷̘̦̭̿̍̃̒͑͋͑̚̕͠Ö̴̤̘̙́̐̑̊̈̈́̌͊̾̅͐́̕Ụ̵̗̲̺̏̾̈́̏̍̒͘͠Ń̶̮͉̟͖̼̪͑̓̓͊̿̌̉͌͊͜D̸͔͚͑͐̄̌͐̋̕ ̸̨̥͔̆̓͛̇̆̚͝Y̵̡̨̡̞̥̙͇͍̗͇͓̻̮̣͐Ǫ̴̗̤͙̝̬͑̋͒Û̸̢͖͇̤̱̼̰̭͖͆̾͝ͅ!̴̧̤͎̉̀̋͑̈͋́͂͑͘͝"̵̧̡̩̩̝̦̜̋͐͛̎̇̉͒͆́̆̚͜͜͝

The void contracts around me. The darkness presses in from all sides, and I can't breathe, can't think. The nightmarish creatures move closer, their forms becoming more solid, more real. My whole body starts shaking violently.

"̴̛͙̆̄W̷͕̟̳͑̾̀ẻ̸̳̠̋͝'̷̗̌l̸̺̺͛l̴̪̇ ̷̖͉͑f̴̘͛̕͝i̴̢̨̥̊n̶̛͚̳̦̽ḁ̶̞͂l̵̙̼͆l̵͕̱͂̑͒y̶̡̰̦͋ ̶͉̥̅ḃ̵̜͉͘ͅe̶̞̼̭̓̈́̈ ̴͎̘̀w̷͔̖̗͑h̴̛͖̲̉͘ò̷͋̿ͅl̷͖͓̔̈e̶̝̱̼͗̊ ̶͈̙̜̒̈́͝ȁ̴̛͚̲g̴͔̤͚͠ặ̴͕í̷̲̫͇̓̓n̵̘̅!̵̯͋̾̄"̸̧͍͒̕͜ ̶̟̍͌

Her voice makes my eyes water, tears streaming down my face without my control. 

"̵W̸e̸ ̶c̴a̷n̷ ̵p̷l̶a̴y̶ ̸t̶o̷g̵e̵t̶h̷e̸r̷ ̸f̸o̴r̴e̷v̴e̴r̴ ̸a̷n̶d̴ ̵e̴v̸e̵r̶!̴ ̷C̵r̴e̴a̶t̷e̴ ̷n̵e̴w̸ ̷a̷d̶v̶e̸n̶t̸u̶r̴e̷s̸!̶ ̶N̶e̵w̶ ̵e̶n̶d̵i̸n̷g̵s̷!̶ ̵R̶e̶w̸r̶i̶t̵e̸ ̵e̴v̸e̸r̵y̴t̷h̵i̸n̸g̸ ̴j̶u̶s̶t̵ ̶l̷i̴k̵e̸ ̵w̴e̶ ̸w̴e̷r̶e̴ ̴a̴l̵w̶a̷y̸s̸ ̴m̵e̴a̷n̷t̴ ̵t̵o̵!̷"̶

There's something familiar about her words, but trying to grasp it feels like having my brain scraped with sandpaper.

"̴T̴h̶i̷s̵ ̶w̵o̷r̵l̸d̷ ̶w̶i̸l̸l̸ ̵b̶e̶ ̶o̶u̸r̵s̴ ̷t̶o̷ ̶s̷h̵a̶p̵e̴ ̸a̵n̵d̷ ̵m̴o̵l̴d̶ ̷a̴n̸d̷ ̷b̶r̷e̶a̵k̵.̵.̷.̵"̷

‘Help me…’

Everything closes in. My vision tunnels. I can't hear my own heartbeat anymore, can't feel my own breathing. The taste of copper fills my mouth, and I realize I've bitten my tongue.

A powerful light suddenly blazes through the void, cutting through the oppressive darkness. The thing shrieks, and the sound is so piercing I clap my hands over my ears. The tendrils release me, and I collapse, gasping and sobbing as clean air fills my lungs.

My whole body goes limp with relief. The shaking gradually subsides as warmth washes over me, and I look up to see a broken shield with a familiar crest floating above me, cracked and battered but still emanating protective light.

"̶̰̰͚͚͔̈́̑̍͗̉̽̈́̒̓̀̚͜Ṋ̸̡̛͉̲̥̂͊͑̒̾̍͑̒͒̚̕O̴̧̢̭̰̣̞͙̙̰͓̬̐͂̏̋̂̾̀!̸̛̳̬̗̩̭̲̤̾͗̽̋͆̂́̉͐͆̅̚ ̶̲̇̿͛̾̀̓̾̿̕̕̚͝͝N̸̡̛̠͙̬̘̬̤̮̮̞͔̰̈́̂͊̍̀̈́̈́̽͒̃͘O̵̢̱͍̥̜͊̒̓̏̊̓ ̷͔̹̖̲̠̠̼̫̦̂͜N̷̼̦̄̆̀̈̈́̚ͅƠ̷̢̧̻̇̽͐̇̈́̈́̇̃͠ ̷̮̳͉̺̫̟̺̄̐̒̕Ń̷̙̭̣̹̒̏̈́̐̏͠Ơ̶̢̪͙͉̰̖̙͉̫̣͕͗͗͘ͅ!̴̢̧͍̲̮̖̎̒̄͊́̓̂̌́"̴̧̨̞̠̻̝̞͇̘̉̅̈͒ ̵̧̛̲͎̹͉̥̤͖́̊̀͘͝

The thing screams, her childlike mask finally slipping. 

̴̧̨̪̹̞̞̦͖̽̆́͊̏͆̀͑̌̀̇͜"̴͉̻͔̝͗͗͂͛̽͒̐́̿̒̊̍̍ͅÝ̵̡̛͈͕̺̙̟͈̤̿́̀̎̀̕͜ͅO̶̳̲͈͗͗̀͌̅̂Ṳ̴̡̲̜͇̝͚͈̉̎͛́̊͗̑̈́ͅ ̷̢̘̣͖̤̭͎͌́̀̈́̽C̸̨̲̳̖̆̎̐͐̌̈́͛̾̐̃͒̀̕Å̶̼͚̙͗N̷͇̦͓͔̩̲͖̥̩͔̱̾'̵̼͓̘̯͖͍̪̗̳̫͗̑͑̓̎T̵̡̞͈͕̳̤̿͂͌͂̎͒͊͠ ̴̙̲̖̳̐̈́͛̌̊̋̆̅T̶̢̙̘̼̮̽͒̈́́̀̾̓̓͐̆͐͜͝͝À̸͈͈̯̠̱̹̖̥̺̒̏̅̐̕K̵͙̤̓̀͌͘͝E̵̺̙̫͖̪̙̩̩̍͐̽͌̓̽̀̈́͜ ̴̧̹̫̙͉̟̩̝͕͌͊̌̊̀͑͐̕͜͜H̵̜̭̘́̅̌͊̈̍̾̋̀̆̌̕I̸̡̝̲̹͗̋̄̈́̇̿̈́̎̇̀́͘M̴̢̨̢̛̯̩͍̱͈͇͔̑̈́͜͝!̸̦̫͚̠̠͔͙́̾̋́̈̄͠ ̴̧̝̖͚͚̺̦̭̥̞̗̓̆͋̿͗̂͑̆H̷̤̙̓̍̂̿̎̔̋͒̈́͐̚Ȩ̸̙̦̠̘̄̀̓͑̄͝'̴̘̗͉̞̘̜̘̤̐̅̄̇̋͋͜Ş̸̛͕̭̲̻͖͆̋̏̄̎͆̽͂̌͜͠ ̶̛̜̜͕̜͉͙̎͆́̿̅̑́̉̇̚͠ͅM̸̘̫͍̯͔͂̀̾̉͑ͅĮ̷̠͔̞̚ͅN̸̨͙̲͖̩͈͔̤̥̪͔̅͆͛̄̉͜Ē̵̡̮͙̱͍̲͚̰̄̾̏̒͋̒̕͝͝!̸͎̟̝̟̼̺̅͑̇̽̕̕ ̵̱̰̆͂̓H̶̗̮̳̜̟̒͊̉̈͐͝E̵̮̩͛̇̎͂̾͠'̶̨̢͓̭͕͉̪͎͋̀̃̈́̈̏̉͋͝͝ͅS̷̨̛̪̣͖͓͙̱̰̥̒̅̈́͐͗̔͋͌̈̂ͅ ̴̹̿̈́̏̅̐̀͝͠ͅA̵̖͗̐͐̕Ľ̷̢̛̼͂͆̄̅͑͗̃̑͛̚͘W̴̛̳͔͎͖̾̈́̃̍̂̄͂̽͑̆̕̚Ǎ̴̩̎͛̉͆̊̓̀͝͠Y̵͕͎̙͙̠̻̎͋̋̐̉͗́͛̍̇̏̚Ş̶̟̙̣̮̲̥̟̂ ̸͔̥̏̈́̈B̸̤̜͉̼̖̱̞̳̈́̾̎̾͆́͗̔̾͜͜É̷̤̰͙̱̻͖͚̾̎̐͘E̵͈͈̘͔̒̈́̈͆́̏̈́͘Ǹ̷̦͍͙̰̠̪̤̖̯͙͖̄͑͒̀͛́͊̃̃̌͘͝ ̷̡̤̪̫͓̻̞̤͉̄͛̈́̐͋̍̉̋̽͗͝M̷̢̪̖͓̪͕͓̲̯̜̗̽͗̐̇̔͌̈́̚I̴͙͔̬̘͓̗̖̞͌̾̓͗͝͝N̶̢͉̺͚͚̮̻̪̦͍̈̊̉͗̐̕͜ͅE̶͙͛̑̚!̸̝̞͚̬̜̄̿͑́͊̐̓͒̉̋͠ ̶̫̺̲͖̖̲͕͇̝̤͇̿̀Ẁ̴͙̲͂̈́̏͛Ē̶̦̳͙̖͕̠͔͈̆́'̸̠̤̞̬̰͕̳̾̒͋ͅͅŘ̵̢̛̞̙̞͇̬̐̽E̷̺̣̦̼͚͑͗̚ ̸̤͉͎̗̖͛̚S̷̻̓̄̈̃̋̀̚̕Ư̷̳̓͌̑͑͊P̵̡̗͓̭̦̪͓̼͔̜̭̱͇̃P̶̛͓̮̍̿̋͊̾͛̑̓O̶̮͋͆͛̇̄̐̑̅́ͅS̴̡̢̝̞̝̅͛E̵̡̜͎͓̞͖̓̍D̷̜͓̻͔̥̹̂̓̂̓̾͌̀ ̶͉͕̳̟̘͈͔̫́ͅT̵̨̝̫͈̄͊͋͗̕͝͠Ǒ̸̢̱͉͍̺͍̞̖̈́̉́͋͐̑̕͜ͅ ̶̢̡̬̦͚̰͚̖̞̗͍̔͒B̴̢̗͕̰̺͈̗̺̲͙͍̿̉̓͑́̑͝ͅE̶̡̛͇̲̟̳̩̙̻̠͖͓̤̾̎͛̍̅̎́̍̉͝ͅ ̴̣̰̳̇T̵̡̥͖̪̮̤̮͓͕̺̟́̒͆̈́͊̆̚̚ͅO̴̩̰̫̗̟̦͉̘͑̂̌́͠Ğ̴̡̢̛͙̼̪̠͔̱͈̭̳͒́̾̀̉̂͊̐̊̈́̚E̸̛̠͚͑͑͗͊̈̏͘Ṭ̴͛̃̒͊̿̏̓͛̔̐́͠͠Ḣ̵̡͔̃͛͌̚E̸̡͎̼̱̥̹͕̾̓͐̈́́̇͛R̷͚͇͆́͠͝ͅ!̷̛̞̻̾̎̂̆͋͋͝"̵͕̪̦̲̄̊́̇͒̈

̵̢̯̻̱̳̰̥̩̺̰̄̄̉̃̍͒̆͂̔̄̓̕

But the light grows stronger, and everything begins to blur and fade—

I wake up with a violent gasp, my body jerking upright. My clothes are completely soaked with sweat, my heart still hammering. Neo is immediately beside me, her hands on my shoulders, gently but firmly pushing me back down.

The warehouse.

I'm back in the warehouse.

But my hands won't stop shaking, and my whole body feels like it's been wrung out. Without thinking, I lunge forward and pull Neo into a desperate hug, burying my face against her shoulder.

She returns the embrace immediately, her arms wrapping around me tightly. One hand moves to stroke my hair while the other rubs soothing circles on my back.

I don't let go.

I can't let go.

She just holds me while I shake and remember how to breathe.

I just want to sleep.