#deepspace:acc

it’d been as easy as breathing, to notice the several months everyone else had spent with one another long before his arrival; to feel like a jagged piece not meant for the puzzle that'd be unicorns. truthfully, past his affiliation, there are personal reasons for iseul’s distanced nature; an overbearing reluctance to involve oneself; almost—always being a ghost, lingering quietly, closely but never close enough.

it is the captain that often takes it upon himself to make iseul’s shadow visible amongst the lot, to his own dismay. iseul doesn’t believe delta’s captain to be some hero, even when he wears exhaustion like a second skin. but as the only person that iseul finds himself speaking to beyond a couple of words & the only person who holds faith in what he could be, there is some form of respect held there for the captain. but alas, the dent in his reverence would be caused by the way he's handled the youngest ⸻ reminiscent of a fragile object, that needs a so—called … performance improvement plan.

after the events of operation pandia, no—one is who they were. comparably, a crack formed somewhere in team delta. as if the fragments couldn’t be seen by anyone except iseul. perhaps it is because he’s been observing everyone & everything long enough to notice the tiniest shifts, or perhaps it is the vice—captain that gives it away. the thought of him leaves a bitter taste on iseul’s tongue, per se ⸻ with questions that go unsaid & answers that will never be given. slow—blooming abhorrence is kept dormant beneath rib—cage, as surviving a catastrophe alone is punishment enough.

everyone can see that teamwork is a hand—me—down attribute from his twin brother, which is a few sizes too big on hwa iseul. much unlike hwa jiwon, and his ease of making the spotlight shine on him no matter the time and place ⸻ iseul doesn't fit into team delta. rather, he sticks out like a sore thumb; his presence being similar to that of a dissonant, wrong note played on the piano.

Zhang Daiyu sees her evol as a double edged sword.

According to her elementary teacher, she was never going to surmount to anything worthy. Her parents' expectations were stuck on the bottom of the barrel, sharp-edged scraps left by her two older brothers whose ambitions were tall enough to cast a shadow on her own. The tag of 'last place' hung neatly on her shirt, right on top of her heart as if that's the most depth she was allowed to indulge in.

Daiyu knew the Zhang dynasty could never let a bastard child thrive. It would undermine the hierarchy they painstakingly laid for generations to follow. A testament to a frantic desperation that helped them escape the clutches of poverty and reinvent themselves as pioneers of transportation engineering. Quiet mutters gained force once their engines reached well known aviation and ship makers.

Everyone in her family attributed their newly found wealth to a mantra, passed down like a filthy heirloom with stubborn lip stains, that states 'those who have merit are the only ones worthy of hunger'. Hunger is a luxury reserved for those who can afford to live the Zhang reality, where nothing is impossible if you can pay the steep price. Everything else had to bear the weight of their command.

Daiyu could never pay it, her frail shoulders were only capable of carrying baby wings. But, a single flap cascaded into an unstoppable sequence. The winds of fate stitched themselves into the fabric of reality when she was 6.

It was a private after school lesson. Sunlight slanted across the mahogany desk as her teacher tried to drill through her scattered thoughts about the dangers of a 50% mark. Restless fingers tapped against the thin off-white paper, a soundless prayer stuck on the roof of her mouth. Before Daiyu could utter a defeated compliance, her gaze settled on something new. Under the growing rambunctious rant, she watched the bright red 50% blink itself into a 100%. A shift in pressure cracked through the atmosphere as a surge of satisfaction licked the constantly open wound of her pride. Watching the color drain off her teacher, it dawned to her.

Nobody ever questioned their senses.

Her power, as she will later learn to call evol, can change everything about her circumstances. It can feed her hunger after years of fighting for survival. Open the door to a new reality where not being a Zhang doesn't matter as much.

Small actions started to pile up before rolling into a snow bale. Daiyu's principle with her power was fairly simple: Never go too far. After years of being an spectator, she began to analyze beyond what surfaced. It wasn't long until she cheated those from her opulent surroundings. Her powers only served to strengthen a fear narrative the people in her life already buried in themselves. Sudden floods of gossip about unfounded betrayals and broken relationships occupied the space of the young elite. Name and prestige were thrown and forgotten.

It never mattered to her, especially when her bullies gained new faces at her presence. After all, absence will crave for something in its wake. Preferably, something that will benefit her.

The pretense collided on itself when Daiyu got too involved with one of her younger nieces. One of the few who managed to knock at her heart, begging entry with a sweetness she wasn't able to fully reject.

It was supposed to be a simple operation— whistleblowing. The evening hummed with a tune that Daiyu should have interpreted as a warning instead of a greeting. One wrong turn and her home security was rushing to her room. Even when she had snuffed out the evidence, the mention of her evol tightened the cuffs on her wrists. Because who could believe in someone with a history of manipulating the truth with their mind alone? Someone whose trustworthiness lives with a borrowed breath?

What a damning thing her evol is.

Daiyu connected the dots about how her backstab signified the death of a rebellion. Consequently, her death in their society.

Community service dubbed as "philanthropic volunteering" in her record led her to meet a fairly low grade Unicorns recruiter. At first, she thought the organization's entire vision and pursuit was ridiculous especially when her life was laid out to the whims of the unpredictable. Daiyu never once thought about the greater public's safety. All of her previous pursuits were done with her at the center of it all. Most of her methods leaned into barely justified cruelty as her nails dug into the psychology where the menagerie of fear and anxiety shriek. Where would she fit in this hero scheme?

Results, she would as the Unicorns recruiter reminded her how there was no place for those who hit rock bottom with no safety net to pull themselves up. The crux: Stray dogs were the most desperate to survive even if it means taking the load most would avoid. That's the one reality she can't bend, no matter how many illusions she conjures.

Daiyu thought about his crooked confident smile. She realized the fragility of her situation as she clutched onto her evol as the only way to keep surviving.

The evol that let her be who she wanted and condemned her with the same breath.

ah, team alpha. nabi barely knew where to begin. she had traded plenty of snark with their rival before, but honestly, she wished she were in team beta. they were, air quotes, less problematic.

take her dear captain. his relationship with a subordinate turned the whole team upside down. meetings grew tense, and no one knew where they stood anymore. what bothered nabi most was how he handled it. instead of taking responsibility, he tried to protect himself. promoting the lieutenant wasn’t about being fair but about saving face. he obviously cared more about his 'image' than his team.

then there was the so-called nepo baby. they insisted they weren’t close to charlie’s vice-captain despite the blood tie, but the rumours stuck anyway. nabi wasn’t innocent there. she had helped spread the gossip out of jealousy and frustration. so when that promotion was taken away, she felt a quiet, guilty sense of relief. it wasn’t right, she knew that, but part of her couldn’t help it.

and finally, the snitch-turned lieutenant. if she was honest, nabi would rather have her old teammate back and be the awkward third wheel to the couple than work with a snitch with anger issues. at least before, the drama stayed private.

nam seonyul no longer treats a team as something fragile.

not because he'd grown cynical, but because he's seen how easily care translates into hesitation. he's seen what happens when concern slows a decision by half a second, how sentiment makes someone double-check a call that should've been instinct.

it doesn't look like weakness, but it is. emotion has a way of slipping into places responsibility is supposed to sit, and in his world, that kind of weight creates a drag he can't afford.

what he learned was that admiration is how flaws, however detrimental they become, go unchallenged. respect shouldn't exempt anyone from scrutiny — not a senior, and most certainly not a captain. when a line is crossed, it needs to be named. people will disappoint you eventually: not always out of malice, and not always in ways that are obvious, but enough to remind you that institutions can't rely on individual virtue. what matters is that the structure holds, so things can keep moving.

he knows they don't see him the same way now. a new title shifts authority on paper, but perception lags behind structure. none of it matters to him: he was capable before the vacancy opened, and he would have remained capable without it. right place, right time, with the right skills to hold what he stepped into. the disclosure was only a catalyst, and a means of upholding what the hunter's code requires.

teams don't move because they're comfortable. they move because someone is willing to notice where standards are beginning to crack, and say it aloud before it becomes something much worse.

the gloves were tight the first time he’d tried them on. nearly too tight, as it pressed against his skin. anxiety clawed his overtaxed nervous system but there were only the faintest impressions on them; worn hands and a voice plagued by presbyphonia. an afterimage that would have been gone in days if not hours.

fourteen and sallow under the cold lights of a long-forgotten tailor shop, he made a fist tried not to wince as the black leather creaked in response. “they’ll be softer in a few weeks,” the clerk reminded him and he nodded. it would have to do then. “i’ll take them.”

around them the faintest traces of metaflux gleamed and he tried, for once, not to look.

over a decade later, the gloves that sat on his hands were not the same ones but black they were still. forever black.

“like your heart,” his sister still teased each time he bought another set in the same color.

“like my heart,” he’d answer in jest and admire the way the kaleidoscope of metaflux curled in waves around her, pulsing violet, pearl, navy, teal. a comfort against the riot of colors vying for his attention.

they do not creak, now, inlaid with sensors and the finest technology the ever group has to offer. warm and supple as he rests a hand on one of his squadron member’s shoulders in comfort, as he pulls a civilian from danger, as he grips his own watch to rasp, “the protofield’s stellactrum is violet. proceed with caution.”

black gloves that were removed for a routine investigation two weeks ago; shoved into a back pocket and useless when he pushed an operative out of the way of a turning vehicle neither of them could see until seconds after the action.

FILE REFERENCE: 2048-D02-EVAL-01 EVALUATOR: dr. wang yuqin DATE: 2048-01-29 SUBJECT: jin yuri, echo team (reassigned delta)

1. PRESENTING CONDITION

subject presents for mandatory psychiatric evaluation post-operation in accordance with HA psych. regulation, article 12.9. subject is the sole survivor of the 10-agent mission with 9 casualties, ‘operation pandia’.

2. BEHAVIOURAL OBSERVATION

subject arrived at 0900 sharp. posture rigid ( 90° to table ). affect blunted — voice monotone, minimal prosody, no contractions ( “do not” / “are not” vs. colloquial forms ). pupils display delayed and exaggerated dilation in response to light. respiration appears regular. hypervigilant scanning noted — gaze sweeps room perimeter upon entrance. startle response noted at 0926, 0942 ( door sounds ).

on recollection of operation pandia, the first and final affective breakthrough was observed. monotone fractures, blink rate elevates from baseline ~15/min to ~30/min with definitive spikes ( n=3 clusters >40/min ) correlating to temporal progression towards casualty events. microexpressions noted ( e.g. brow furrow and masseter tension suggestive of anger ) immediately preceding key statement:

“…it was their job to ensure they functioned.” [ elevated vocal stress on ‘their’ was noted to be present, suggestive of accountability displacement onto the deceased echo captain. ]

key statement was interrupted by an 8-second pause, during which the subject’s left hand twitches ( n=4 ) over armrest ( suspected procedural tic linked to subject’s evol ). post-pause, affect re-blunts — “…the wanderers breached the perimeter” in monotone with zero prosody. no further elaboration volunteered despite gentle prompting. no subsequent emotional leakage observed.

prompting was redirected to current team affiliation. subject instead volunteers present-tense references to individual echo members detailing their strengths / responsibilities with no acknowledgement of unit dissolution. no affective tension detected during discussion of the deceased unit. interruption to clarify re: delta reassignment elicits a 5-second pause ( right-hand micro-twitch observed ) followed by “delta is fine” ( unit-reference only, no individual delta members identified despite subsequent prompting ). no further elaboration on either team volunteered.

session terminated prematurely at subject’s request ( 1014, 16min early ).

3. CLINICAL IMPRESSION

subject presents acute stress response accompanied by features aligning with post-traumatic stress disorder aligning with dsm-5 criteria. high-functioning presentation masks criterion b intrusions ( blink rate elevation and clustering, speech interruptions, and continuous tics during pandia recall ), criterion c avoidance ( avoidance despite prompting, interrupts self at mention of wanderer breach ), criterion d negative cognition ( accountability displacement, affective blunting ), and criterion e reactivity ( hypervigilance to door sounds, exaggerated startle ). some level of dissociative symptoms ( derealisation ) present.

subject is operationally intact absent of pandia-specific triggers. prosodic flattening suggests high internalisation risk. delta integration appears arrested due to hyperidentification with deceased echo unit.

4. RECOMMENDATIONS

Ruoshui does not think of her evol as something separate from herself. It has always felt less like a gift and more like a truth about who she is. Some people fight, some people lead, some people destroy. She endures.

Pain is familiar to her now—so familiar that she sometimes notices its absence more than its presence. The sharpness of a wound, the dull ache that lingers afterward, the trembling that comes when her body begins to reach its limit… these sensations no longer frighten her. They reassure her, in a quiet way. As long as she can still feel pain, it means she is still able to carry it for someone else. It means she is still useful.

She knows others see her evol as noble. She has heard the word selfless more times than she can count. But she does not feel selfless. There is something selfish in it, too—because every time she takes someone’s pain into herself, she is confirming the belief she has carried since childhood: that her worth lies in how much she can endure.

There are moments, rarely, when she wonders what her life might have been like without this power. A quieter life. A body that did not ache, nerves that did not burn, nights that were not broken by lingering phantom pain. In those moments, she feels a flicker of something that might be longing.

But the thought never stays.

Because if she did not have this evol, she does not know who she would be.

there's no written warning, no stern talking to. just lieutenant (oops, ex!) han haena unceremoniously being booted to field agent in team bravo like she's a new recruit. she can't help but feel like she's being unfairly punished; the guy gets off with a slap on the wrist, but she gets one to the face?

at (nearly!) 30, haena should know better. throwing a tantrum won't get her anywhere, but it's not like there's much further to fall. she occasionally toys with the idea of looking for a silver lining, but she's always been more of a gold girl, anyway.

she's frankly never been the most pleasant coworker to be around, and post-transfer to bravo, she's somehow managed to become pricklier. it'd taken her a while to warm up in alpha, and skipping out on after-work drinks with bravo doesn't speed the process up, either.

it's less so a personal grudge against her current teammates, and more her pride than anything. it's exceedingly difficult for her to have gone from running point on a team in alpha, to taking directions from someone who's barely out of school.