A single eye dilated into an almost comical fish eye view as it pressed close to the glass, an ironic mirror to what lay within the bio-culture inside the tiny specimen tank. A curious finger wandered close to said tank, and a distinctly annoyed voice interrupted the miscreant’s attempt to poke the object.

“Excuse me! That’s fragile!”  

SinB withdrew her finger with a pout. On a couch further down the room, Sowon snorted and shook her head, her fingers tapping idly on her knee as she studied her surroundings. It was only her second time in this clinic, and it was more than vaguely unsettling to observe now that she was less occupied with making sure the surgeon didn’t mess up on fixing SinB’s shoulder the last time they were here.

It was not unlike a snapshot out of some mad scientist’s laboratory, like in the old movies. Jars and tanks of floating things, some of which were recognizably body parts, lay in neat rows of organized chaos all around the wide room, making it feel more claustrophobic than it should have been. The other more unidentifiable objects looked like some kind of Faustian biological nightmare, and if Doctor Park hadn’t recommended this person as the most reliable surgeon he could think of, Sowon would have marched right back out the first time she had stepped into this place. And it hadn’t been like this place was easy to find too, squirrelled away deep in the local Underground.

Then again, considering the somewhat questionable nature of whatever was going on in this place, Sowon couldn’t blame the surgeon. Bioware was even more heavily regulated than cyberware, and genetic science was a closely guarded secret among the corporations that specialized in the trade. It was one thing to install electronics and turn yourself into a cyborg; for some reason people get really touchy about growing specialized organs and anything involving squishy parts. 

The brief hoohah over cloning a few decades ago may have contributed to this sensitivity. It had been a huge scandal when the case broke in Japan, and it was one of the few times the International Council actually stepped in to lay down new laws with regards to the use and proliferation of bio-engineering in the brave new world after the Awakening, where laissez-faire capitalism had gone somewhat unhinged on the subject of deregulation, drunk on their increased powers following the weakening of central governments all around the world.

Still, the genie was already out of the bottle, and the new laws only drove the trade underground. People could still order designer replacements for worn out organs or body parts, if they could pay the sky high costs for both the growing and installation of said parts. As always, only those who had the means had access to what could have potentially been lifesaving technology for the masses. And all because some people had abused the potential of said technology to open a whole new can of worms.

Which brought them to this place. Sowon hadn’t even heard of this person until Doctor Park told her about it, but that was likely the point. It was strictly on recommendation only, and according to the good doctor, people didn’t talk about their visits to Doctor Lee. Not that this doctor ever got that many clients, and certainly not many who visited her lair. 

Yes, her. Sowon had been very surprised when she arrived with SinB in tow the first time. Less at the gender of the surgeon, no. More at the fact that the surgeon was a dead ringer for Doctor Park himself, just aged a decade or two further. Also at the first words the woman had spouted upon letting them into her lab.

“What has my idiot older brother sent me this time?”

Pleasant way to get an introduction, really. Sowon had been nonplussed, but didn’t let it break her composure. After a somewhat tense introduction, during which SinB had to be forcibly made to shut up no less than five times, Doctor Lee (formerly Park, but she changed her name post-marriage) had gotten down to the business of tending to SinB’s damaged shoulder, all while grumbling about being ‘wasted’ on such a trivial injury. 

She had a point. As injuries went, it was far from life threatening. Certainly, most surgeons could do a decent job at patching SinB up, but Sowon didn’t simply wish to settle for any old surgeon. She of all people knew how important it was for a warrior to be in full possession of their faculties, and while Yerin had missed vital organs and arteries, that blade had still sliced through nerves and tendons in an area that could mean reduced functionality for SinB’s arm in the future if it were not treated properly. 

Sowon could not allow her fierce little kitten to be handicapped in any way. It would be a blow to the younger girl, and it was why she had turned to Doctor Park for recommendations. Of course, had Yuju been in proper condition to be casting, they wouldn’t be in such a pickle to begin with. Magic would have repaired the damage quite easily, but only if the caster knew how to reverse the damage done and restore the body to its original state. Healing was a tricky art, and most mages only dealt with surface wounds. Deeper, more complicated injuries required a thorough understanding of human anatomy, among other things.

Yuju did have that capability, but Sowon didn’t want to risk it. The shaman was unstable right now, a potential loose cannon following Yerin’s defection. Not to mention her reduced state where any strenuous casting could potentially bounce back on her in unexpected ways. Eunha had been very protective of the shaman in the past week or so, and Sowon wasn’t about to risk the wrath of the tiny mage. Mundane solutions to mundane injuries would have to do.

Even if the surgeon in question was anything but mundane. It was their second visit here, a scheduled check-up from after their first trip. Dr Lee might have been disdainful of having her skills applied to what she considered a trivial injury, but she was still a doctor with strong professional ethics. A patient was a patient, and repairing severed nerve endings was still a tricky business even with the medical advances of the day. Follow-ups were necessary to ensure proper recovery, and after suitably graphic descriptions of what could potentially happen to her arm if instructions were not followed, even SinB had been quite obedient when it came to observing the correct rehabilitative procedures. Sowon only wished the girl could always be this tractable. It would make dealing with her so much easier.

“Ding dong, the witch speaks!” SinB cackled, turning on her heel to face the grouchy old lady, who could have passed for a portly ahjumma at a night market if not for the lab coat and perpetual scowl adorning her unlined face. Age touched the surgeon lightly, with only the gray in her hair and weathered skin of her hands an indicator of how the passage of time had affected her. Of course, unlike the artificial youth of her older brother, she was clearly an adherent to the concept of aging gracefully. That made her automatically more likeable to Sowon by default.

“That would be the witch is dead, actually,” Dr Lee corrected automatically, and wrinkled her nose. “Which, I am most definitely not, you brat. Have you been moving that arm of yours?”

SinB shrugged, or as best as she could with only one shoulder in play. She did in fact obey instructions for once, mostly because it also led to Sowon pretty much waiting on her hand and foot in the last week. A girl could get used to this.

Despite the verbal calisthenics, it seemed Dr Lee was rather fond of SinB, because she didn’t even take the opportunity to hurt the girl too badly while checking on the state of her arm. Granted, that may also have been related to the vaguely menacing figure of Sowon sitting in all her cybernetic-enhanced glory on the couch by the side, but for what it was worth, both parties appeared to enjoy snarking at each other. Even Sowon was rather amused by the quibbling. It wasn’t every day she got to see someone stun SinB into silence with extremely clinical descriptions of potential medical mishaps that was most definitely not threats, perish the thought. The Hippocratic Oath still meant something to old school medical practitioners, didn’t you know?

Sowon withdrew her curious gaze from the various specimen tanks and stared at her feet instead. It made her slightly uncomfortable to be surrounded by this many floating body parts. Clearly, Dr Lee was not short on customers even under the international ban. Her age also matched up to the batch of scientists who would have had the expertise to be in this trade. While theoretically anyone registered under this discipline would have been under strict monitoring to prevent any potentially illegal activity, clearly Dr Lee had circumvented such efforts and continued operating, albeit in the black market.

It made sense really. Where there was demand, there would always be supply. Eternal youth was the end goal of genetic research back then, and while they hadn’t quite managed it, replacing failing organs with freshly grown ones tailored to your DNA to avoid rejection was one way that the rich went about prolonging their lives in this day and age. It did skirt the ban on raising clones to harvest for organs, but the process was a lot trickier and prone to failure with vat-grown parts, hence the increased costs. 

Sowon couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere out there, there were still clone farms providing a cheap supply of harvestable organs. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was. Greed led to a variety of evils, and scruples was the one thing always in short supply when there was profit to be had. 

There were times where she wondered if things could change from the status quo, but dismissed the idea almost as soon as she thought of it. She was but one person, and never the kind to be a hero. It was difficult enough trying to protect what she already had. She didn’t have time to save everyone else.

“How long before I get better?” SinB complained to the surgeon, who was studying a scan. Dr Lee didn’t even look up.

“It’s healing fine, you can start doing those light exercises I recommended the last time in a few days, and if there’s any swelling or pus, come back again.” The doctor made a few more notes on a screen. “You’re lucky, partially Awakened bodies heal a lot faster than normal.” 

“Huh. Then why did it take so long before I healed the last time?” SinB sulked. The doctor snorted, turning back to face her.

“You heal faster, but you’re still human. There are limits to that sort of thing.” She shrugged. “Of course, whenever magic gets involved, it tends to ignore the usual rules, but we haven’t been able to replicate that effect reliably. There’s no magic ‘gene’ unfortunately, and trust me, I spent a few decades working on finding it.”

“So it’s like, completely random? Like striking the lottery?” SinB cocked her head curiously, hopping off the cot she had been sitting on while being attended to earlier, careful not to jostle her wounded side. 

“Crude, but accurate.” Dr Lee walked past her to check on another of her work stations. “It’s like trying to find the ‘gay’ gene all over again, but sometimes people are just born that way. There’s no good explanation for it.” A wry smile. “Not that it stops people from trying, of course.”

“Eh, I think it’s better like this. If they really found a magic gene, they’d have wiped us out in the South during the Purges.” SinB shuddered at the thought. Sowon walked up to her, rubbing the gunslinger on the head comfortingly.

“Or it would have started a whole new arms race worldwide.” Dr Lee let out a breath after making some adjustments to her equipment. Her work required constant attention, and she normally didn’t take patients anymore, except through her brother’s recommendation. It felt almost nice talking to real people face to face again, after being isolated in her lab for months on end at a time. 

Sowon nodded in agreement. Mages were uncommon enough, and a properly trained and prepared practitioner was incredibly deadly in battle. More powerful ones could confront whole regiments on their own, and the shamanistic Tribal Nation in the Americas had changed the face of the continent with their use of environmental magic to force their demands to be recognized as an independent state. If a magical gene could be isolated, it wouldn’t take long before people started raising armies of the Awakened to wage war. 

As a veteran of the Third World War, Sowon was eager to avoid seeing another global conflict erupt in her lifetime. Conventional weapons were already bad enough. Elemental storms could reshape the environment entirely, weaponizing weather and terrain to make entire regions impassable and uninhabitable, not to mention other forbidden forms of chaos magic that could tear dimensional rifts to warp space and reality itself.

Magic was dangerous and unpredictable, and they were still learning how to cope with it even fifty years after the Awakening. It was probably a good thing that magic and technology were so incompatible at the moment. An unholy union between magic and science would be a race to the bottom.

“How much do we owe you?” Getting back to business was the order of the day. It was discomfiting enough to be hanging out in this place. Sowon was rather eager to be on her way.

Dr Lee waved her over to another station, where a portable cred scanner was located. Sowon inclined her head and tapped her credchip against it, seeing a rather impressively large number get deducted. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch, though SinB winced a little at the amount. The pair made their way out shortly after, eyes adjusting to the perpetual gloom of the Underground in short order.

In a way, it felt right to be back in the darkness. SinB took in a deep breath. This was where they belonged, in the shadows. Staying in an upscale apartment had almost made her forget her roots, and it made her soft. Mistakes were made that wouldn’t have been had she stayed sharp. They weren’t meant to live like the civilians topside, and it was good to remember that.

A small bop to the head called SinB back to her surroundings. Sowon was looking at her steadily, and SinB fidgeted, feeling a little small under her gaze.

“Don’t worry about the money. It’s worth it to see you well.”

SinB’s expression softened at the concern coming from Sowon. The gunslinger elbowed the ex-soldier with her good arm, a smirk crawling onto her lips.

“Does that make you my sugar mommy then?” 

Sowon snorted, cuffing SinB lightly around the neck and pulling the younger girl close. She whispered something into the gunslinger’s ear, and was pleased to see the tips of her ears redden in response. Sowon grinned. 

It was in moments like this that she appreciated having someone by her side. She had been alone far too long, and appreciated all the more the company of someone close to her heart. She owed Eunha a word of thanks for talking her through it, really. It would have been too easy to push SinB away otherwise. She had missed her chance years ago. This was a second opportunity to make things right.

Sowon was never one to waste her life. What she had, she would cherish. It was the least she could do for herself, and for the people who cared about her.

SinB was still complaining vociferously, but Sowon was in a good mood. That was rare enough these days, with their current situation. Ruffling the younger girl’s hair, the pair went on their way.

The others were still waiting for them.

A single lamp flickered unsteadily in the windowless room, as if synchronized with the fluttering eyelashes of the lone captive seated on the only piece of furniture within those four walls. The stool was rickety, with no back support, and the captive was forced to sit ramrod straight, facing forward into a screen that was the only other source of light within the cell.

A digitized voice repeated questions, pausing only for the stilted answers coming almost mechanically from the prisoner’s chapped lips. The interrogation had gone on for almost 48 hours nonstop, briefly interrupted only by infrequent supplies of hydration to allow the captive to continue being able to respond. Sleep was not factored into the equation.

As a specially trained agent, Jung Yerin was able to continue functioning under such conditions. The deprivation was deliberate, of course. Wearing her out and isolating her under such circumstances was a ploy to weaken her defenses and trip her into revealing more information. Normally, debriefing wasn’t supposed to be conducted under such hostile surroundings, but she had been too long away. They could not trust her fully, even with the guarantees from her handler. She had expected nothing less. 

At least it hadn’t been straight to the torture chamber, she thought with a vague sense of irony. That had also been a distinct possibility. Heechul had been good on his word at least. Yerin had been prepared for the worst the moment they knew she was alive. She was a valued asset, and if nothing else, they would want to pick her brain for everything she had known and experienced in the three years she had been away. 

The interrogation was only a start. The real trial would be when they sent her for psych evaluation, where all the sadists were. The psychos there treated the human mind like putty to be shaped and remolded, and Yerin had seen other people go in and come back out... different somehow. It would be a lie to say that she wasn’t afraid. They had her dead to rights, and there was only so much Heechul could do to protect her. She had no power in this place, at least not until she had proven herself to be a good little soldier for the organization again. 

Her knuckles tightened on her knees as she continued answering questions, repeated over and over again in different ways. How did you survive? Where did you go? What did you do? Why did you not return? The same few lines of inquiry, interspersed with other questions about Sowon and her team, the Spartan op against Mireu, the information she brought back regarding Hyeongdae… 

Everything was being recorded, her replies, her physical responses from pulse rate to serotonin levels, everything to be compared against previous rounds of probing. It was standard operating procedure, and Yerin knew she should be used to it, but a part of her chafed at the restraints, stubbornly rebellious. She clamped down on that part, willing herself to be patient. There would be no good result if she allowed herself to lose her cool and wind up letting the organization lead her around by the nose. Her real fight hadn’t even begun yet.

Yuju… Yerin closed her eyes briefly, letting her hands relax as she centered herself. Even now, she could distantly feel as if the other girl was by her side, holding her close. Are you well? Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself.

All the things she wished she could have said in person, but could not. She could only hope that the shaman wouldn’t over-exert herself. Don’t come for me. It’s too dangerous.

Yerin had very little choices left to her at the moment, but she would do what she could to protect the others. The organization might have made her, but it did not own her heart. That belonged to a certain puppy a long way away from here right now. 

I will make it through. For myself, and for you.

It was done. She had cracked it at last.

Umji exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the fatigue that wore down on her like massive lead weights. Ever since Yerin left them, the mood in the team had been tense for a good reason. The rest of them had watched Yuju with bated breath, expecting some kind of outburst. But apart from crying on Eunha’s shoulder the first night, Yuju had been oddly calm afterwards.

No, calm would be a misrepresentation. Unresponsive would be a better term. It was as if the light had gone out from her eyes, though she continued functioning as if nothing had gone wrong. Even SinB had been a little creeped out by Yuju’s sudden renewed enthusiasm for working out again, with the shaman seeming to need to wear herself out physically in order to get through the day.

Between Sowon and Eunha, those two kept a close eye on the doggedly training Yuju, who seemed determined to get back into fighting form, even requesting Sowon to spar with her since SinB was clearly unavailable for the task. It made sense, in a way. Yuju’s current condition made it difficult for her to wield magic without it possibly backfiring on her, and clearly the shaman was trying to compensate in other ways. Umji could even understand the logic behind it.

Yerin had been taken from her. If Yuju had been at her best, Umji did not doubt for a second that the shaman would storm enemy headquarters singlehandedly in order to bring the other girl back. The quiet despair in her normally expressive eyes was a sign of how deeply Yerin leaving had affected her, even if she didn’t talk about it.

And of course, when SinB snarkily tried to remind her that Yerin had left of her own accord, the mug SinB had been holding literally shattered in her hands under the weight of Yuju’s barely leashed fury, and Eunha had had to step in to calm the furious shaman down, while Sowon wisely removed SinB from the room to prevent any further confrontations.

All the drama surrounding her unnies also meant that Umji was largely left to her own devices. With Sowon’s attention largely split between SinB and Yuju, Umji would normally feel a wee bit jealous, but for once she welcomed having more time and space to herself.

Yerin’s apparent defection made no sense to her, not after the last conversation they had when the assassin had handed her something to work on in exchange for access to a database she had only ever heard the vaguest rumours of. The little project she had been given was one of the keys to unlocking that access, and Umji already had her suspicions of Yerin’s former allegiances after that exchange. So she hadn’t been too surprised upon finding out that Yerin used to work for Tristar, but the way events had unfolded after that had caught her entirely offguard.

There was no good reason for Yerin to willingly go back to her former employers. Not without taking Yuju with her, at least. Unless, of course, it was not safe for her to do so. Something was off about this whole situation, and Umji couldn’t shake the feeling that the thing Yerin had handed her before was key to figuring out the current state of affairs.

Throwing herself fully into the project Yerin had left her, Umji’s fevered efforts was helped along by the fact that Sowon didn’t have much time to keep an eye on how much sleep the hacker actually got. A combination of energy drinks and several all-nighters when she had been closer to breaking another layer of the code led to her finally cracking the key needed to unlock the fileserver Yerin’s old friend had left her. 

It had only taken her a whole two weeks. She had never needed to spend so much time on something that wasn’t even milspec. Not that this was anything less than at least triple A-grade code work, and riddled with more traps than she could reasonably expect for something that was supposed to be a private server.

Yerin was right, she would have loved to meet the person who wrote this. Unfortunately, that person was already dead, and this was the only thing left of her legacy. It must have been important enough to be under this much security. Umji hoped it would have something useful, anything that could help clear things up. 

It was bad enough seeing Yuju clearly breaking down on the inside without being able to help. Even Eunha had been at a loss for how exactly to get through to Yuju, and the fire mage was starting to look worn out these days. Umji badly wanted to be of use to the rest, and this was the only thing she could think of doing.

Now that the key was unscrambled, she had to find the lock it was fitted to. Fortunately, the very act of unlocking that key had given her access to a new file that hadn’t been obvious at first. It was a video, and judging from the size of it, wasn’t a very long one.

Umji was predictably cautious about opening it. The programmer behind this whole thing was a genius, but after having to prevent the files from self destructing more than once over the past few weeks, Umji was more than a little paranoid by now. She checked and rechecked the innocuous looking file several times, rubbing at her eyes and taking another swig of her drink, feeling a familiar buzz of energy surge through her. She should have enough focus to check this out before getting some rest. Just a bit more, it wouldn’t hurt.

The video opened without any hidden traps, to Umji’s quiet relief. At first there was nothing but darkness, with a little static sound, before the screen came on, as if the person recording had just the camera. The quality wasn’t the best, but the young woman that appeared was still beautiful despite it. The glasses gave her a charmingly nerdy look, though it did nothing to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Umji could relate. She was certain she looked something like this right now, down to the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants.

The girl on screen cleared , shifting somewhat uncomfortably. The room she was in looked to be little bigger than a closet, and she was clearly scrunched up, as if she were in hiding. Umji turned up the volume as she started to speak.

“Hey Yennie, if you’re seeing this, I’m probably not there to tell you about this personally. That would .” A short, choked laugh. “Haven’t been able to get you alone at all, they’ve been watching me closely, and everything else I have is monitored. This piece of device I salvaged from the dump might be the only thing I can record on without getting caught.”

The camera wavered as the woman on screen adjusted herself, cutting off briefly. Umji was about to check if the clip had ended when the video came back on moments later.

“Can’t stay long. Joy’s gone, but you know that. You were the one who brought her back. I can’t believe she just…” Eyes squeezed shut on screen, in obvious pain. “But I’m babbling. She was already off, you know? I should have seen it, should have done something before…” The girl on screen took a deep breath.

“So I went digging. I know, I know. Too little too late. , Joy’s dead. Wendy’s gone too. We’re bleeding out, one by one. I had to do something.”

There was a deep seated frustration behind those exhausted eyes. Pushing up her glasses, the woman on screen huffed quietly, shoulders tense.

“They did something to Joy, you know, before she went rogue like that. Remember those ing solo missions they kept pulling her away for, the ones Heechul-oppa complained about? She was always really quiet after those. I should have asked. Why didn’t I ask?” There was grief in her eyes.“I couldn’t trace the mission records. Isolated server, unlinked most likely. But I did find a few hints in other correspondence. Some secret project. More secrets. As if we weren’t already secretive enough?” A choked sob, followed by an unsteady chuckle.

“They’ve been keeping us all busy, separated us, made sure we didn’t get to compare notes. We were always just resources , useful tools. You know that. Hell, we all do. But what happened to Joy, that’s just too much. She would never have done what she did if they hadn’t pushed her too far.”

The girl stared directly into the camera, expression serious.

“I know you blame yourself, Yennie. Don’t . It’s not your ing fault. Blame the ones who made her snap instead. If you hadn’t stopped her, you would have died too. I can’t lose another friend… I just can’t.” A deep breath, obviously taken to steady herself.

“I found something. They were messy, of course they were. Security protocols are only as strong as the laziest bugger forced to stick to them.” A brief, ironic sneer. 

“There’s a top secret project that’s been running for years. I can’t be sure, but from what I’ve been able to piece together, it goes way back. Before even us. We’re spinoffs, really. Rejects from the main course, recycled for day to day use.” There was a resigned exhaustion in her face.

“Joy’s the only fully Awakened mage with us. Now that I think about it, why did they leave her with us? She could have been with CorpSec. Should have been. But I guess they found another use for her. I don’t know what exactly, couldn’t get any more details, but they mentioned something about a blueprint and needing a conduit.” A deep sigh.

“Whatever it was, Joy got pulled into this, I’m sure of it. It messed her up. The other test subjects they mentioned...most of them went mad. It’s a miracle she lasted as long as she did. They talked about it, you know. Even making bets about how long she could last. , I’m so mad. She didn’t deserve that. No one does. We’re not something to be used and discarded, damn it.”

Heavy breathing, and a wild eyed madness.

“I’ve got some coordinates. Some fragmented data. Most of it’s on the server, you can get to it now that you have the key -- good job decoding it by the way, Yennie’s friend. Yes, I know you finally found someone to do it for you. No way you could have done it yourself. I’m just that good, you know?” A low, bitter chuckle.

“If I don’t get to tell you this myself, well, I’m saying it now: burn it down. Burn it all down. Find the project, ruin it, wreck it, don’t let Joy’s death be in vain. Just wish I could have been there with you though, one last job to make them proud.”

There was a wistful expression on the girl’s face.

“Never got to tell you before, but I’m glad you were always there for us. Wish I could have done more. I hope you never get to see this, really, but a girl’s gotta be safe. Call me paranoid, and I know you already do, but it’s just something we’ve always had to be, right? We’ve lasted this long already, and I really hope we get away clean after this. Ah hell, you might never even see this, what am I saying...catch you later then, Jung Yerin. Hayoung out.”

The screen flickered out, and Umji released the breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding. This was too much information to process, the hacker didn’t even know where to start. Her head was spinning, but a few things were clear.

The organization Yerin belonged to was up to no good, and Yerin was in danger. She had so many questions right now, and not enough answers. But something else important was also quite evident.

Yerin had clearly already been on her guard before defecting from her old employers. It tied up neatly with how she had been a free agent, hanging out with Yuju, when they encountered her over a year ago. The assassin might not even have gotten to see this Hayoung’s message to her back then, locked as it was, but she had gotten away nevertheless. 

Umji couldn’t help but remember how Yerin always assiduously avoided cameras, and was always careful to stay low profile and out of sight whenever possible. It all made sense now, if she were in hiding at the time. Yerin didn’t want to be found, but something had clearly gone horribly wrong somewhere, and they had tracked her down.

Umji in a breath. Yerin had gone back, seemingly of her own will, but why would she do that when she had been hiding from them all this time? Unless, of course, she had known there was no escaping them once she had been discovered. The hacker bit at her lip, worrying at the tender skin there as the gears in her head turned.

She was still missing too many pieces of information. A complete picture of the whole situation hovered tantalizingly just out of reach, and Umji shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from her exhausted brain. Too many hours spent breaking the code; she didn’t have enough energy to puzzle through this right now. 

Turning around, she was going to crawl over and collapse into bed when she suddenly realized she hadn’t been alone all this time.

“Yuju-unnie…?” Umji whispered uncertainly, eyeing the tall, shadowy figure hovering right behind where she had been watching the video earlier. She hadn’t even sensed anyone tripping the motion sensors in her part of the new hideout they had hastily set up. It was late at night, closer to morning really, way past even the bedtimes of well known night owls like SinB and Eunha. Yuju should have been asleep too, what with her lingering fatigue still being a constant problem. The last place she should have shown up at was here with her.

The tall shadow cocked its head slowly even as it moved into range of the dim light Umji kept by her workstation. The hacker was always a little afraid of the dark, and kept a night light on even when she was going to bed. The weak glow of the sole light source lent a muted hue to the razor sharp planes of Yuju’s haggard face, a fact that should have blunted the edges of her profile, but it only seemed to add an ominous cast to the shaman’s countenance. 

Umji gulped nervously, shifting backwards on instinct. Abruptly, she was reminded of the other time she had spotted Yuju on her own out by the balcony at their other hideout. That Yuju had seemed like a stranger then too. 

“They’ll hurt her…” Yuju finally spoke, her voice in a far lower register than normal, almost a snarl. One fist lay clenched by her side, nails digging deep into her palm. Red flecks tinged with gold seemed to dance in her eyes as she raised them to stare Umji down.

“They’re hurting her…” There was a raw pain in the shaman’s voice, and blood was starting to drip from her clenched fist, while her other hand moved up to clutch at her chest, the tall girl suddenly hunching over in obvious suffering. Despite her own misgivings, Umji stood up, trying to check on Yuju, only for the shaman to stagger away, eyes wild.

“I can’t, I can’t... I promised... Yerin… “ 

Umji tried to reach out, but an unseen force pushed her back, crackling energy starting to gather around Yuju like a churning vortex. Caught in the center, the shaman was muttering almost inaudibly to herself, shaking her head like a puppy caught in a storm. An eerie wind seemed to pick up in that enclosed space, a fact which made absolutely zero sense since there were no windows whatsoever.

Umji had had enough. This was way beyond anything she could handle. She screamed for help.

Which was also exactly when the pressure surrounding Yuju exploded outward in a concussive shockwave, knocking Umji off her feet. The hacker raised an arm to protect herself, even as her other hand went towards breaking her fall. Before the lone light in the room went out, Umji thought she saw glowing red lines crawl up Yuju’s neck and arms, illuminating her briefly before being swallowed in darkness. 

Sowon was the first to reach her, followed shortly by SinB and Eunha. The leader’s face was grim as she helped Umji to her feet, the hacker more or less intact despite having the wind knocked out of her. 

SinB the lights. Apart from the four of them, they were alone.

“What happened?” Sowon demanded, checking Umji over carefully for injuries. The hacker had a couple of bruises from falling, but was otherwise fine. Her face was pale though, staring at the empty space that Yuju had clearly occupied less than a minute ago. 

“Yuju-unnie, she was here...and then…” Umji pointed at the ground shakily. A few drops of blood remained, and Eunha knelt down, eyes unfocusing as she switched to magical sight.

“Did she hurt you?” Sowon growled. Umji paused, then shook her head decisively.

“No...she was in pain. Upset. She didn’t mean to push me away.” I hope, Umji didn’t add. Yuju had seemed to be on the verge of losing control back there. Something had gone horribly wrong, and now the shaman was missing. It didn’t bode well at all.

“It’s Yuju’s blood.” Eunha confirmed, face grim. She turned to Umji.

“Tell me everything.”

Bright lights, gloved hands, masked faces.

Cold steel, scrubbed tiles, disinfectant heavy in the air.

A needle coming close. Eyes forced open, red light tracing on the exposed retina.

Thrashing limbs, wrists rubbed raw. Flashing images, over and over.

Discipline. Obedience. Loyalty.

A logo of a spinning star, burning right into the soul. Muffled screaming, forced down by a gag. Red leaking through bared teeth, tongues chafed and throats raw.

A shackle torn, punching through the nearest figure, blood and bone. Sirens, needles, a sickening sweet odour permeating the air.

The world spinning, and black.

Stone and concrete cracked under an iron grip. The moon was waning, and there was blood on the wind. Like a gargoyle, a hooded figure crouched on a distant roof, crimson tears tracing new lines across pale skin. The whipping wind drove all others to take shelter, and hot pants coalesced into a tiny cloud with every breath.

A ragged voice, like nails drawn across a chalkboard, strained and gravelled.

“Mine...how dare you…”

Heavy clouds swept across the crescent sliver in the sky, plunging the city into darkness. Light flakes of grey-skimmed white started floating down, fragile goose feathers dissolving on glass and concrete, shimmering in the neon lights of the city. A red tongue flicked out, tasting naught but ash and fractured dreams in the searing cold. A city of living flame opened up before burning red eyes, a million torches for a million souls. 

Winter was here, and it was time to feast.