Stumbling steps, flickering lights sputtering ghostly shadows in your wake. 

Heavy panting, panicked breaths, weapons long discarded in the face of sheer terror.

Some things could not be fought. Monsters could be slain, but how does one fight a nightmare? No respite, no escape. As your friends and comrades fall around you, as if touched by a sleeping sickness where they stood, you realize the contagion has come, a reaper seeking its due. It will not stop, does not discriminate, and it was already here.

One does not stand before a tide without getting washed away. Against everything in your programming, you break ranks and run, survival a stronger instinct than anything a mere compulsion in your head can command. 

You are not alone. Your brothers and sisters, the quicker ones, they too start to flee; some too late, too slow, and are consumed whole by the creeping darkness, the shining eyes of your Doom glowing like haunting lamps in the back of your mind. 

The tall, slender mage had seemed so harmless, but the red shadow that oozed out of her was most definitely not. But the face of the nightmare was one and the same. Those shining eyes promised only death to all who stood in her way. Deep down, in the animal reaches of your lizard brain, you know this. More than anything else, it was the instinct of the hunted. The rabbit knows when the snake has it in its coils. There is no escape there.

Ice creeps into your extremities, a languid torpor miring your thoughts and draining your strength. Dimly, you realize the world growing darker around you, your feet plodding a distant echo that doesn’t quite reach your ears. Your heartbeat slows, and a heaviness weighs upon your eyelids. There is no strength left, only weariness, and the chill of the grave.

You are not the first to fall, and you will not be the last. Distantly, you wonder if anyone else would get away. An amused rattle, almost a chuckle, is the last thing you hear.

Sleep, it whispers. This won’t hurt at all.

It does not, and then everything fades to black, and doesn’t matter anymore.

It was like swimming a mile underwater in a marsh, where everything was slow and brackish and impossible to see clearly through. Sounds and sensation felt far away, muted and sluggish, as function spun back into gear one by one.

Umji returned slowly to consciousness in a way that felt like she was head first in quicksand. They had hit her on the head earlier, and she felt the bruise keenly, but it wasn’t debilitating or even intended to keep her out for any extended period of time. No, what was disorientating was the way she felt as if she were being held underwater, her thoughts dragged through mud as if she were not quite herself.

They sedated me. Of course. It was a struggle to even form coherent thoughts. Little was known about technomancers officially, but the street nickname for them had been technowizards. Mages of a different breed, essentially. Where traditional mages drew their strength from old nexuses of energy and symbols of power, technomancers drew from a different, newer tradition.

There was a power in ideas, with places and symbols embodying some of those concepts, giving birth to a rich source of energy to draw from and convert to other purposes. Even before the Awakening, people had been calling on higher powers and placing their faith in ritual and symbol in exchange for power. The Awakening had simply made it easier to access those things; where before it had been a mere trickle, the tap that had held magic back from the world was now an open flow, with consequences of course.

The digital world and the processing of hundreds and thousands of zettabytes by an increasingly data hungry population was like an endless stream on an all new prayer wheel. If faith was power, then the combined imaginations of billions of people processed at high speeds was the zeitgeist of our times. And when the Awakening tore the barriers open, things changed.

Umji had always been trying to understand what her abilities really meant, but even the other technomancers she had managed to contact didn’t really know for sure. There were whispers of a central power, an idea, an all new construct that lurked within the depths of the Resonance just as their powers were a reflection of their times. A God, just for them, just as the mages had their own traditions and old Gods of the various faiths.

But that mattered little right now, trapped as she was, and Umji was never inclined to religiosity at the best of times. She was scared, confused and didn’t know what to do. As always, in her fear, she reached out for the data streams, a comforting companion in a world that made no sense at all. People came and left, but the data was always there.

It was difficult to focus. The best way to restrain mages, aside from anti-magic wards, had always been to fog up their minds with drugs. Technomancers were not exactly the same thing, but the sedation did its work. Umji could see the dizzying lines of the data streams just out of reach of her consciousness, but she couldn’t quite pull herself together to manipulate them. 

But she could hear the voices. Data, as it was, was just information compressed and passed around at high speed. Every technomancer visualized it differently, and to Umji, it had always sounded a lot like people chattering in the background all the time, with the bright lines signifying where they were headed like traffic markers on a three dimensional map. 

Early in life, it had been a pain trying to filter out the voices and extract only the useful bits that allowed her to classify information efficiently, while blocking out what she didn’t need. There was a good reason why technomancers were rare; a lot of them went mad because no one taught them how to deal with the overload. And data was a constant in this future world, where everything was connected and the cities were alive with information. 

Had Sowon not quickly removed her from the city early on in the awakening of her powers, Umji likely would not have survived the information overload. She owed a great deal to her mother figure, and knew it. Which was why, even now, she subconsciously looked around the data streams for Sowon, wanting to ascertain that she was okay. 

Her mom wasn’t far. Distance was a little fuzzy on the information highways, and her brain still felt like sludge. But she had grown up with Sowon as a constant companion, and there was no mistaking the unique signature that was part cyborg and part human on the network. 

It was impossible to run a diagnostic with her mind functioning like an antique dialup modem she had only read about on ancient archives. Her body wasn’t responding, but her body had always been sort of secondary to her abilities. Umji knew she was sort of a liability whenever it came to a physical fight, and right now she had semi given up on her body being a useful tool in her captivity. Her best weapon had always been her mind, and she’d be hell damned if she let them get away with kidnapping her and her mom. 

The others were not far, and even with Yerin-unnie brainwashed, Umji had an uncanny confidence that Yuju-unnie could bring her back. Help would come, but first she had to make sure the s holding them captive couldn’t do worse to them before it did. 

When your body didn’t matter, there was only your mind left. Logically, Umji was aware that her meatform directly influenced the health of her mental form, but in moments of feverish highs when she had taken one too many uppers and gone into a drug induced spiral, she knew there could be that one, magical moment where her mental self disconnected from her weak flesh. It was in those moments where she attained her deepest connection with the Resonance, a virtual plane that rested like tectonic plates beneath the information highways that linked the Matrix. 

It was like losing oneself into a pure stream of unfiltered data, the voices of everyone who had come before you growing hushed, but terribly present at the same time. It felt a lot like Enlightenment, but she also came terrifyingly close to losing her sense of self in there. Join us, the voices whisper. And you can be everywhere, all the time.

People had taken that deal before. They never came back, at least, not that Umji knew of. Sometimes, she heard news of drugged up gearheads who burned their brains out while jacked into the Matrix, and while some of them had been on a drug induced high, Umji knew that at least a few had been her brethren. Technomancers who abandoned their body to join the Resonance, becoming omnipresent in the datastreams.

And losing all sense of themselves. It was a risk, Umji knew, but she needed to touch base with the greater awareness that linked them all. She needed to stall these people, needed to back up her would be rescuers, do something that didn’t involve her being strapped down and helpless like a lamb to the slaughter. The young technomancer was tired of being a liability. She wanted to help. 

Her frustration sparked off something in the data streams around her, impersonal voices that previously ignored her echoing with a note of curiosity, buzzing with an odd tonal change that felt awfully familiar somehow, and she called out to it, one kin to another. 

There were ghosts in the network. People lost to the streams. Yuju had once said that she could hear the voices of the recently dead, like echoes imprinted in the psychic memory of the area. This was something similar. She knew this voice. Had heard it somewhere before. But where?

LET ME HELP

Definitely something out there. In the physical realm, Umji’s body spasmed, her heart rate and brainwaves spiking irregularly as white coated lab assistants rushed to her side, trying to figure out what was wrong. When her heart seized violently, there was a scramble to resuscitate her, hooking up machines running on backup power since the main generator had failed thanks to Yerin’s earlier sabotage. 

At the first jolt of the defibrillator, there was a faint sizzle, and then the machines hooked to her brainwaves went haywire, before everything went dark for real, as even the secondary power vanished. Confused shouts permeated the meatspace, people dependent on their eyes left blind and helpless when even the emergency lights went out. 

All around them, doors unlocked silently, as data scrambled and unscrambled itself in a burst of information, originating from the still motionless form of the prone technomancer chained physically to the table. It didn’t matter.

She was there. She was everywhere. They couldn’t touch her.

The Resonance had heard her, and sent help. Ghosts of the past, haunting the system. They had waited so long. It was time. It was beyond time. 

Time to get to work.

This should go without saying already, but SinB once again resolved to never piss Yuju off for any reason. The panicked retreat of the enemy as the red shadow affectionately referred to as ‘Charlotte’ cut a wide swathe through them was somehow satisfying to watch, but it was still incredibly creepy to see it pass through bodies and then watch them dry up like long dessicated corpses as they hit the ground. 

Colour returned to Yuju’s face after SinB yanked the knife out of her side at her cue, the wound repairing itself with eerie speed as a crimson glow seemed to be reflected in the deepest points of her irises. Next to her, Eunha looked concerned as her attention remained fully fixed on Yuju, finally reaching out to grab her by the arm as blood started dripping from Yuju’s nose.

“Yuju, stop. You’re pushing too far.” The fire mage looked concerned, fully aware that not only was the shaman hunting down their foes, she was also shielding them from the wards that were sapping her strength earlier. Regardless of how much energy she could drain from others, there were limits to what she could process while still recovering from the trauma her body was put through. 

“They’re getting away.” Yuju growled through gritted teeth, a pounding headache throbbing at her temples. The pact she had signed with the blood spirit gave her new insight into the webs of energy that crisscrossed this place, but Charlotte could not go far from her under these circumstances or risk getting cut off. 

“We’ll catch them later.” Yerin stepped in, agreeing with Eunha as she tenderly wiped off the bloody trail from her lover’s face. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’d say she’s doing pretty okay after being shot and all…” SinB started, then stepped back as a pair of sharp gazes sliced into her. “What?”

“You were hurt?” Yerin scowled, examining her puppy carefully. Eunha glared at SinB. Is this really the time, the mage’s eyes conveyed. SinB shrugged.

Yerin was going to have to find out at some point. Best to just get it out of the way early. In any case, she wasn’t responsible for it. The gunslinger paused mid-thought, realizing that maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it this early. Sowon was sort of responsible for the injury and they still needed to get to her right now. Oh well, it wasn’t like she could un-say those words at this point. SinB resolved to just take things as they came. 

“I’ll be fine.” Yuju insisted stubbornly, but did withdraw Charlotte sheepishly back to her side at Yerin’s venomous glare. The amorphous blob looked more solid than it did earlier, and SinB could clearly sense something akin to a childlike annoyance at having been pulled back from its murderous little game.

Yerin eyed the red shadow with a certain healthy suspicion, but her Bond with Yuju also inadvertently allowed her to communicate with it. The piping Hello made a surprised frown cross Yerin’s face, and Yuju scowled at her spirit ally, making a dismissive gesture as it faded from the physical plane with something like an extended whine. 

“We gotta get to Sowon and Umji.” SinB reminded them urgently, already stepping forward carefully around the freeze-dried corpses strewn around the hallway leading further into the facility. Eunha followed her, casting a quick, worried glance back at Yuju, who was spacing out again as if her mind were a million miles away.

Yuju eyed the cavernous depths of the facility nervously, a strange chill of foreboding running down her spine at the unknown that lay deep within. Next to her, Yerin clutched at her hand, fingers entwined with hers as she sensed her puppy’s distress.

“They won’t hurt you again.” Yerin wasn’t sure why that was the first thing that came to mind, but the memory of Yuju’s torment captured on those old videos still haunted her. She caught flashes of Yuju’s old terror through their link, and reached up to soothe the frown lines wrinkling her forehead.

Yuju glanced back at her lover, sensing the pain she felt on her behalf. She hugged Yerin close, burying her nose into the older girl’s hair for comfort. 

“I know…” The shaman mumbled under her breath, her hands wandering up to trace the fresh cuts that still marked Yerin’s face and smoothing them away. Where her hands went, the skin knitted together, but when her hand fell to the assassin’s neck where the collar was still locked around , a low growl rumbled in . Yerin patted her on the head, feeling her puppy’s annoyed distress.

“We’ll get Umji to undo it later, don’t upset yourself over it.”

“They’ll pay for this.” Yuju grunted, reluctantly pulling away to give Yerin another once over to her satisfaction. She could heal the physical scars, but her eyes burned at the unseen hurts that Yerin was stubbornly refusing to mention. Later, the assassin gave her a look, and the shaman grumbled again under her breath, unhappy about everything in the situation.

“Oi, can you two stop stalling?” SinB’s voice echoed on from somewhere up ahead. There was a light slap where Eunha smacked her on the arm, followed by a minor complaint from the gunslinger about lovesick idiots. 

Yerin shot Yuju an amused glance, lacing her fingers with Yuju’s as her other hand flipped the knife SinB had extracted from Yuju’s side earlier. She would rather not have to use the damn thing again, but she certainly wasn’t going to go about unarmed. Yuju pressed her lips together, reaching into a hidden pocket and presenting the vibro-blade Yerin had left behind previously.

“I thought you would like this back.”

“Is SinB still mad about me leaving it in her shoulder?” Yerin discarded the offending knife and took her favorite blade back, eyes shining as the pair walked forward to join the pair of best friends waiting for them ahead. 

“Yes.” SinB sniffed in annoyance as they caught up. The gunslinger scowled at them. “Get my girlfriend back and I’ll forgive you for it.”

“Did they start dating while I was away? Finally?” Yerin snarked, fully aware of the tension that had been between the pair even before she had gone renegade. Yuju shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure they haven’t gotten past holding hands.”

“Ohhhh.” Yerin snickered, and even Eunha had to hold back a giggle. SinB glared at her best friend for the betrayal, folding her arms defensively. “Excuse me.”

“Let’s just get them back first.” Yuju summed up the situation smoothly, striding forward confidently for about two seconds before halting in her steps and turning to Yerin for help, a lost expression on her face. Yerin laughed, taking the lead as she navigated them forward.

It was good being back together. They were still missing a few pieces of their ensemble, but there was a comfort in the friendly bickering that Yerin had missed. It was like being back home, and while it wasn’t the same as her old team, this was a new family she was willing to work things out with. Next to her, Yuju tightened her grip comfortingly, sensing her determination and agreeing with it placidly. There was a comforting steadiness to her presence, and it filled up the empty space that had haunted Yerin ever since Yuju had gone dark over a week ago.

There was an apologetic expression on Yuju’s face at that, but Yerin squeezed her hand lightly, knowing that her puppy would have had her reasons for doing so. They had so much to catch up on, and she was no innocent in this entire situation either. 

Ultimately, the source of their suffering lay somewhere ahead, and Yerin was determined to end things while she could. The ghosts of their past had haunted them too far, and even now, she still felt the unease that crawled beneath Yuju’s calm exterior. She couldn’t be sure how much her puppy remembered, but even a little was too much. 

I am here with you. Yerin whispered soundlessly across their link, and Yuju shot her a grateful look, taking a deep breath as they merged into the darkness ahead. 

They had come this far. It was time for things to end.

“Run full diagnostics on our test subject here, this is a golden opportunity after our failure to secure those medical records.”

Director Han’s eyes were glittering with fervor as he gave out instructions rapidly. Despite his move to a more managerial and bureaucratic role over the years, he had lost touch with none of his scientific background, and often chipped in on certain projects he took a personal interest in to keep his skills sharp. 

Having secured the legendary Immortal and a shiny new technomancer to work on, he was of course very thrilled, and had left the clean up of whatever remained to his daughter while he retreated to the labs. His only contribution to her efforts was to turn on the containment wards, knowing that two of the intruders were mages and therefore the best way to defang them was to deny them access to magic. No matter how capable the rest of the Immortal’s squad was, the numbers on their side would matter. 

Ideally, he would have preferred to take them alive as well, but the raid had come on short notice and killing was a lot less complicated than capture. It was a bit of a loss, but even dead specimens were better than no specimen. He knew how to weigh the odds.

On his orders, the Immortal and the technomancer were separated, and both heavily sedated to prevent any accidents. So little was understood about technomancers, but he knew enough to order physical restraints that did not have electronic locks for one, on top of the drugs administered. 

As for the Immortal, a double dose of sedatives was ordered to make sure the woman wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. It came very close to being a deadly dosage, but his people knew what they were doing and in any case, it turned out to be just about right, with the accelerated metabolic healing the Immortal seemed to have. A curious phenomenon they would have to study, no doubt.

“Pull up our data on Subject Zero, I want to see if this is what the good Commander Kim has been keeping from us all this time.”

Director Han could barely hold his excitement as they began to run the first scans. If what he suspected was true, it would be a massive breakthrough for the project. Their research had stalled for the longest time, though they did branch into the most interesting sidelines in the course of expanding what could be done with what they were able to glean. 

The current, most promising line was being explored in this facility, and while it wasn’t quite the initial purpose of Project ARIA, it was definitely one that was capable of being mass produced and converted for actual use. The first lines of treatments being developed with the extracted mana were finally past the experimental stages, and with sufficient success in trials, they could make the push to mass market soon enough.

After all, who didn’t want a drug that could revitalize the body and delay the aging process? Cosmetic procedures only did so much, and not everyone wanted to replace their body parts with machines like what transhumanist advocates did. It wasn’t immortality, but people would pay to extend their lives by any means. 

So caught up in his musings, Director Han was abruptly startled when a sudden commotion jolted him out of his thoughts. Irritated, he turned and was greeted by the disheveled appearance of his daughter and what remained of her guards.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“The shaman...has a familiar...a monster…everyone else is dead.” Seo Hee gasped, sinking into the nearest chair with her hands still shaking. She had been the first to run the moment the red shadow started advancing towards them, somehow sensing the danger it entailed before it even came close. 

“And you just left them like that?” The director narrowed his eyes, but also indicated for his assistant to bring up the cameras. They needed to know how far the crew had made it, and also to see just what manner of creature the shaman had managed to summon along for the ride. 

When the first images of the red shadow came up on screen again, Seo Hee shuddered involuntarily, even more so when she saw in detail what happened the moment it touched the ones too slow to make a run for it. The director was silent as he watched the replayed footage of the encounter, a strange tension in the air that only seemed to ignite with how the bodies looked after the shadow was done with them.

“So this is our rogue mage…” Director Han looked excited, then thoughtful.

“That red spirit...I’m sure I’ve seen something like it before somewhere…” Fingers tapped on a table restlessly, then froze in mid-tap. “But no, it can’t be…” There was a definite frisson in his tone as he commanded.

“Zoom in on the shaman!” As the image focused and sharpened on the angular planes of Yuju’s face, Director Han took a sharp intake of breath before reaching out to caress the screen almost lovingly.

“How did I not see this before?” He muttered to himself. “But of course that was your familiar, it must have broken you out all those years ago. And here we thought you had died…”

“Father?” Seo Hee looked confused. Shouldn’t they be more worried about stopping the intruders at this point? The director held up a hand, his face a picture of barely contained excitement. 

“Shush, look at how my Angel is all grown up now. Grown up...and come home at last.” A wistful smile as he shook his head. “And of course little Yerin would listen to you...she was always sweet on you even as a child. How touching to have you two reunited again as adults.” His voice grew cold after a second.

“Time to activate maximum lockdown protocols. Containment procedures at code red. We are not letting any of them get away this time.”

His eyes glittered dangerously. His children have been disobedient, and it was time to teach them their place. They would learn to regret stepping out of line. Time enough to teach them some manners, now that they were home, where they always belonged.

You’ll never escape who you are, and it’s high time someone reminded you of that.

“How do you even know your way around this place, it’s a ing maze.” SinB complained about five minutes into their entry. Which was about right.

“I lied my way into getting a tour before they busted me.” Yerin replied cheerfully, though her eyes were alert as she scanned the surroundings. “I’m just surprised they haven’t tried to stop us yet though.”

“Maybe what Yuju did earlier scared them less, heh.” SinB’s trigger finger was twitchy as hell, and there were a lot of shadows to jump at, thanks to the reduced power from Yerin’s earlier sabotage. The assassin was still rather proud of that. The facility was still functioning, as evidenced by the working air circulation systems and emergency lights, but they had definitely taken a hit. It wasn’t much, but small victories helped.

The banter between the two helped to alleviate the tense atmosphere a little, especially since there were still underlying tensions among them despite the brief rush of relief at reunion earlier. Yerin’s flip back to their side, dramatic as it was, was still undercut by how brutal she had been with disabling Sowon just minutes before that. Granted, she had not been in control of her actions, but it still made SinB uncomfortable to see it. And that’s not to mention the stab Yerin had left as a parting gift when she broke ranks the first time. 

It would always be a little difficult for them to trust the assassin again entirely, bar Yuju of course, who had never doubted what Yerin was up to. SinB was just trying her best to cope with her own worry for Sowon by cracking wise as always, while Yerin was just relieved the others had come in for her at all, despite her warnings to stay away.

Eunha and Yuju were surprisingly silent the whole time, or perhaps not surprisingly so. If the place already felt uncomfortable to partial sensitives like SinB and Yerin, the two mages on the team were even more discomfited, seeing the true form of the place in their astral sight. 

In a way, the astral plane reflected the true nature of a place and the activities that went on there. Some things left marks on the psychic memory of an area, and violence left the loudest echoes. Eunha looked slightly ill at the diseased walls that surrounded them like plague ridden boils, drifting unconsciously closer to Yuju for comfort. The shaman was also pale and tight-lipped, but reached out and took Eunha’s hand quietly anyway, offering comfort in her own way.

“This place is sick.” The fire mage finally said out loud, unable to hold it in anymore. Yerin’s gaze dropped briefly to where Yuju and Eunha’s hands were joined, but did not comment. Yuju’s other hand was still laced with hers anyway, and the shaman ran a thumb over her knuckles soothingly, the bonded pair sharing a glance before Yerin sighed.

“If it’s anything like what they did to us before, a lot of people have died here. I’m not surprised at all.”

“We’re taking this place down.” Yuju said quietly, eyes flashing in determination. She could feel a vague nausea rising within her at the familiar ghosts crawling up on her like a bad memory. They weren’t even at the epicenter of whatever it was, but her veins ached with a phantom pain with the return of her previously locked away memories. A shudder ran through her body, and the girls on both sides of her turned to check on her instinctively. Yuju grimaced, forcing a shaky grin at their worried looks.

“I’ll cope.” Eunha did not look convinced, and Yerin switched from hand-holding to a side hug, resting her head on the taller shaman’s shoulder.

“I know it feels like we’re back where we used to be, but you’re free now, puppy. We’re stronger than before. They can’t take us again.”

SinB muttered something like “they kind of did for you earlier though” under her breath, earning her a sharp kick from Eunha who was nearest to her. The gunslinger dodged out of habit, making a ‘what?’ gesture with both arms, but immediately pretended she did nothing when Yuju turned to look at her as well. Yerin laughed softly, if a little bitterly.

“I deserved that.”

“You were alone, and no one deserves that.” Yuju’s tone was sharp, and the side glare she shot SinB was enough to make the gunslinger draw an imaginary zipper across her lips. Satisfied, the shaman kissed Yerin’s hair gently, holding her close. 

“We’ll get through this together. No one’s leaving anyone behind this time. You’re right, we’re stronger now. They can’t stop us.” Yuju, as always, saw the sore spot in Yerin’s heart. The assassin still felt guilty about forgetting to come back for Yuju, but the shaman forgave her for it anyway. Both of them had their own suffering to bear in the years they had been apart, and it was enough that they were together now.

Yerin turned grateful eyes back up to Yuju, about to respond when she tensed suddenly.

“Gas!” She hissed out loud, eyes darting up to the vents even as she detached herself from Yuju instantly, body falling into a ready position on instinct. As if confirming her bad feeling, automated shutters started closing on both sides of the hallway, an attempt to lock them down clearly in action. 

At the same time, sweat suddenly beaded on Yuju’s forehead, as the drain on the shields she had surrounding them suddenly intensified, as if the containment wards had gone from simply nullifying active magic to actually trying to drain her. If not for the excess of energy she had absorbed earlier, she would have collapsed. Even so, she wove a thin film of energy around them, Eunha getting the message and pulling SinB closer to reduce the pressure on the shaman. It was a stopgap measure to slow the gas, but they couldn’t stay here forever.

“I knew this was too easy.” SinB groaned, already looking around for something to shoot, but there were no living targets. Eunha gritted her teeth, summoning her flames.

“Bust the cameras, SinB.” And that was all the warning she gave before scales crawled up her arms and face, her dragon form intensifying her natural fire exponentially as she lobbed a wickedly hot fireball at the heavy blast doors, leaving a melted scorch mark on the metal. Yerin shook her head.

“That thing’s specially reinforced it’ll take too long.”

“Well you come up with better ideas then!” Eunha retorted. Yerin scowled.

“Melt the vents first, at least we don’t have to worry about the damn knockout gas until we figure a way out of here.”

As Eunha turned to do just that, SinB hesitantly waved at the rest of them.

“Uh guys, sorry to interrupt but…” She held up her arm where the watch Umji had left her before was currently located. 

“I think Umji is sending us a message? She says give her a minute or two, she’ll open a way for us.”

“Atta girl.” Yerin laughed in relief. “They really underestimated her huh.”

“Or maybe not Umji.” SinB muttered, staring at the scrolling message. “You gotta see this.”

They crowded around SinB, and the smile disappeared from Yerin’s face as her lips trembled. Yuju wrapped an arm around her reassuringly, while Eunha and SinB still looked baffled.

The message, as it were:

DON’T GET COCKY YENNIE, YOU STILL GOT WORK TO DO

“... Hayoung?” Yerin whispered under her breath, almost afraid to hope. Her fists were clenched so tight, her knuckles had gone white. 

GET OUT AND KICK DUMBRIN I CAN’T DO THIS FOREVER

“I hate her.” Yerin sobbed, choking back the bulk of her tears even as Yuju rubbed at her back soothingly. SinB cocked her head to one side and then pointed excitedly.

“Hey new door let’s go!” 

They went. What else was there to do? But there was only one way forward, and they were always going to take it, no matter what. 

For rescue, for vengeance, for hope, they would fight.