Time flowed like a silent river, each moment weaving itself into the tapestry of chaos that surrounded them. Zodyl was making strides with the monstrous trash beast he intended to unleash against the sphere. He conducted tests, striking against the cleaners when they least expected it, smuggling them into the belly of his creation.
“They were asking about you, especially that one with the neon marker hair,” Jabber teased, a smirk playing on his lips. “Got something goin on with them?”
You lingered back at headquarters, too paralyzed by fear to confront Enjin, Rudo, or the others.
The weight of your actions, all done in the name of “protection,” pressed heavily on your chest.
Zanka had been poisoned, teetering on the brink of death because of the reckless agreement you made with Zodyl. Rudo had taken a beating, while Enjin emerged unscathed, as usual.
But Jabber? He returned in a shocking state, riddled with bullet wounds across his legs and torso, a miracle that he was still alive. Yet you knew him too well; he thrived on the chaos, always pushing himself to the brink.
You sat beside Jabber, sprawled out on a mattress, bandaged but somehow still high on adrenaline. You fidgeted with a frayed piece of your clothing, the same tattered rags you’d worn for months.
Your words were clipped, as if the very act of speaking drained you further. Conversations felt redundant with the raiders; they already knew your story, and it seemed pointless to share any more with those who wouldn’t blink an eye if you vanished.
Each day, you found yourself staring blankly at your solitary companion: the wall, the floor, the ceiling, or even your own feet. Dark circles framed your eyes, now a dull grey, a reflection of the trashy decisions that had led you here.
Maybe numbness was the only remedy for your turmoil. Maybe success in taking down the sphere would ease your mind—or perhaps death would be a sweeter escape.
Living among the Raiders had stripped you of your emotions. Even the news of Noerde’s passing barely stirred a reaction within you.
“Hey!” Jabber snapped, breaking your trance. “Quit being such a downer. You’ve been like this for weeks.”
You began to pick at the scar on your palm, the one Tamsy had left behind. You often dug into the puffy, darkened skin, relishing the familiar pain it brought—an aching comfort in a world gone mad.
Through it all, you knew Tamsy would have stood by you. He would never waver in his belief in you, never question your choices. That was precisely why you missed him so profoundly.
You craved validation, a voice to reassure you that your actions were just. You didn’t want to be caught in the endless cycle of “right” and “wrong”—you simply wanted to do what felt true to you.
The raiders could only offer so much affirmation. Their kind words, while appreciated, felt hollow. All you longed for was someone who would remain steadfast by your side, come what may.
“Dew?” Jabber’s voice softened as he reached out. “I could help you, you know. If you didn’t want to go through this alone.”
You halted your picking, your nail breaking as you turned to meet his gaze.
From your time here, you recognized that Jabber’s poison served as his escape. He had lost the one thing that mattered most—his mother.
Valeria, an herbalist in the Ground, had crafted remedies for the ailments of others. Though Jabber rarely spoke of her, her memory loomed large in his life. The rings he wore, his prized possessions, had once belonged to her.
Just as the fan your father gifted you, those rings held equal significance for him.
The offer was tempting, but you were still lucid enough to know it wouldn’t truly help. One dose, and you might as well be lost to the void.
Jabber pouted, turning away on the mattress, distancing himself from you. “The offer stands if you ever want it.”
You rose and grabbed your coat, annoyance coursing through you. “I’m going outside.”
Tamsy was never one to seek adventure; he preferred the safety of the familiar. Yet here he stood, staring at a massive trash beast lying lifeless before him.
“Ugh,” he muttered under his mask, the stench wafting toward him. “This is revolting.”
“WHAT? Tamsy, look! It’s gigantic! Almost as big as me!” Guita chirped excitedly beside him. After rescuing their team, transforming into a dragon, and escaping the raiders, Guita always managed to find joy amidst chaos.
“Is that so?” Tamsy smiled, feigning interest. “Do tell me, Guita, what happened up there?”
Though he longed to connect with the rest of the team, they lay defeated on the ground. Enjin was the only one still upright, but Tamsy didn’t want to burden him with questions.
Their relationship had soured since your departure.
As Guita recounted the events, Tamsy zoned out, only half-listening for details that could prove useful.
Yes, Guita, it’s right in front of us.
Tamsy snapped his head up, turning his attention back to Guita.
“A seashell! The lady with the really long hair dropped it when… well…”
“Well, we don’t see those often, do we? Mind if I take a look?”
Guita held the seashell up for Tamsy, who gently took it from their hands, twirling it between his fingers.
“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?!”
You flooded his thoughts. He felt the smooth texture of the shell, soft hues of blue glimmering in the light.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his voice catching in his throat. A tear slipped down his cheek. “It reminds me of home.”
Guita’s eyes widened, surprised by his emotion. “You can have it! You seem to love it!”
Kids are so easy to deceive.
“Really? Thank you, Guita.”
Tamsy pocketed the shell. You were with the raiders. It was only a matter of time before he tracked you down.
Thankfully, they were just as disorganized as they appeared.
“No problem! I hope it makes you feel better!” Guita beamed as they made their way to the jeeps.
Tamsy returned his focus to the task at hand, helping the Cleaners make it back to Headquarters in one piece.
Rudo and Zanka lay unconscious in their infirmary beds, while Enjin and Riyo kept watch at their sides.
Enjin’s gaze lingered on Zanka, frustration etched on his features. No matter his efforts, he could never seem to protect him.
Just months prior, Zanka had returned to headquarters after his release from the raiders.
He had arrived clean and unscathed, without a single bruise or scar marring his skin. His entrance was quiet, a blank stare as he pushed through the doors, mindlessly passing Semiu at the entrance.
“Um, hello? Zanka?!” Semiu rushed from her desk, gripping his shoulders. She pulled him into a hug, her voice hushed with concern. “Are you okay? What happened? Let me call Enjin.”
Zanka scoffed, not quite pulling away from Semiu’s embrace but desperate to escape the moment.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed louder as Enjin and the others rushed to the entrance. Zanka groaned inwardly, knowing what was about to unfold.
“Zanka!!” They called, piling onto him and Semiu, crashing into a chaotic group hug.
Zanka kept his explanations brief, recounting the events of his captivity, the deal you made to keep him safe, and your whereabouts.
Enjin sighed, leaning back in his seat, legs spread for comfort. He stared at the ceiling, the rhythmic thumping of the monitors filling the silence.
You were reckless, unpredictable, and a traitor.
He wrestled with his feelings for you, but after months of turmoil, nothing had solidified. It felt like a fleeting fling, nothing more.
Perhaps he clung to this notion as a way to cope with the hurt you had caused him. A means to move on from someone he had cared about.
He had more pressing matters to address—his team. He wouldn’t fail them as he had failed you.
Rudo kept the news of your letter secret, shared only with a select few. He maintained his distance from Tamsy, as did Enjin.
The departure weighed heavily on Rudo, a lingering ache after losing Regto. You were his last connection to the Sphere, the only one who could provide him with answers. Who was he? Why was he here? The history of it all gnawed at him.
Regto had kept the truth hidden to protect Rudo, wanting him to live a ‘normal’ life, free from distractions and the burdens of knowledge.
“It was his goal to ensure Rudo never uncovered his history as a Surebrec, and he would be damned if he allowed the child to discover his connection to the Caines family. Natas’ child was growing older, a young teenager by now. His name was Tamsy. A devil, surely the same as his father. There was a risk that Rudo could easily be swayed to live with them if he were found—a risk Regto never wanted to take.”
Anger simmered within Rudo. In the months that followed, he pushed himself harder, training relentlessly. He wouldn’t end this without answers.
How did you know Tamsy? How did you know Regto? What secrets were being kept from him?
You stood outside, gazing intently at the so-called “lake” sprawled before you. It was the closest thing to a lake you had ever encountered, a massive puddle of muck, sludge, and Heaven knows what swirling in chaotic eddies. With a flick of your wrist, you activated your fan technique, gently stirring the murky liquid within it.
“Why did Grandmama name you Lake?” you asked, curiosity bubbling up like the filth in front of you.
“Goodness knows, Bagua. Your Grandmama had a way with words, a true visionary. She saw power in the world,” your father replied, cradling you in his lap as he rocked you back and forth.
“But… from what I remember, she always talked about something called the ‘Blue Mind’ effect. It’s supposed to bring a sense of calm and peace when you’re near water. Maybe that’s why you love your baths so much,” he chuckled, his fingers tickling you. You kicked your legs playfully, giggling as you swatted his hand away.
“Will there ever be another ocean?” you pondered aloud.
“One day, I’m sure of it,” he said confidently.
His finger pressed gently against your chest, right over your heart. He spoke your name softly, his eyes shimmering with hope.
“You’ll change the world.”
The water stilled as you stood there, lost in thought, staring into the distance.
“AHHH!” you screamed, frustration boiling over as you stomped through the trash and muck surrounding you. Grabbing a nearby pipe, you slammed it into the ground, over and over again.
Everything felt like a lie.
You swung the pipe wildly, shattering glass and metal, each crash echoing your fury. As you lifted it high for one last blow, you caught a glimpse of a figure in the distance.
“Fuck off!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the air like a knife.
The figure remained still, its silhouette unyielding.
“I said fuck off! Heavens… fucking… stupid f—”
A torrent of curses spilled from your lips, each one sharper than the last as you confronted the figure.
“Seriously?!” you huffed, pocketing your fans and marching toward it. “After all that, you still won’t leave? Fine.”
You picked up a nearby can and hurled it at the figure. It struck the top with a dull thunk.
Sighing, you approached, ripping away the cloth that obscured its form.
“Just another mannequin,” you muttered, tossing the fabric aside as you turned back.
“I’m losing my mind. I could’ve sworn…”
Your imagination played tricks on you; you thought you saw it shift, just a fraction. Had it always been there? Or was this the first time your eyes had laid upon it? Your thoughts swirled in a chaotic dance, blurring the lines of reality.
The cloth fluttered, enveloping your head in a suffocating embrace. You gasped, clawing at the edges, desperately tearing it away from your neck.
The loose fabric slipped into your mouth, choking you as a warm presence loomed closer behind you.
“Shh… shh… stop moving. You’ll make it worse.”
Your body froze at the sound of that familiar voice. Instead of resisting, you melted into their touch, leaning back against their chest.
“That’s it…” Tamsy murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he gently pulled the cloth from your face. His breath grazed your ear, warm and steady.
“If I let you go, do you promise not to do anything rash? Hmm?”
You nodded eagerly, a desperate need to see him coursing through you.
He stepped back, his gaze inviting.
Your body trembled as you slowly turned around, your eyes roaming over his figure before settling on his face.
He smiled gently, extending his hand. You took it, feeling the warmth of his fingers caressing your palm. He pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours.
“My pretty girl… I’ve missed you.”
His hand cradled your face, his lips brushing against your cheek. “Mmm? Did you not miss me?”
You leaned in closer, enveloping him in a tight embrace.
He hugged you back, gently patting your back. “I—”
But before he could finish, you yanked his hair, pulling him away. In a whirlwind of emotions, you wrestled him to the ground, your fist crashing into his perfect face.
He captured your hand, the strings of his instrument tugging at you, but you tore your hands free, continuing to unleash your fury upon him.
Tamsy surrendered to your wrath, his arms resting at his sides as he absorbed each blow.
Instead of pain, he felt the love behind your anger, and he wouldn’t let you bottle it all up.
After a few more moments of unleashing your frustration, you paused, hovering above his battered face. Through the blood and new cuts, he smiled up at you, unyielding.
“More than ever,” you replied, leaning down to press your lips against his. He responded, and the metallic taste of his blood filled your mouth.
Poison, just as sweet as you remembered.
