#jinki

It had been two weeks since that night on the roof with Riyo, and even though nothing major had happened since, you could feel the difference in yourself. The way you moved, the way you reacted, even the way you thought during training, it had all sharpened.

Still, the quiet had started to feel wrong. Too still. Like something was waiting to break it.

Your phone buzzed sharply against your desk, cutting through the silence of your room. You reached for it immediately, already feeling that familiar sense of urgency before you even unlocked the screen. The message from the Cleaners’ group chat sat at the top, simple and blunt.

Emergency mission, everyone available get here as quick as possible.

Your chest tightened as you read it again. No ddetail and explanation. Just urgency.

That was never a good sign.

You quickly opened your messages and typed to Riyo, your fingers moving fast without hesitation.

Can you pick me up?

The response came almost instantly.

Already Omw. Hurry.

You were already moving before the message fully registered, pulling on something easier to move in, tying your hair back quickly, not bothering to double-check anything. Your gear wasn’t here, but that didn’t matter right now. You couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about it.

You stepped out of your room, mind already racing ahead to the mission, to the possibilities, to what could’ve gone wrong,

And walked straight into someone.

You stumbled back slightly, catching yourself before you lost your balance completely. “Sorry-” you started, but the word died in your throat the second you looked up.

Your father stood in front of you, completely still, his presence filling the hallway without him needing to say a word. His eyes moved over you once, quick and precise, taking in everything, the way you were dressed, the tension in your shoulders, the fact that you clearly weren’t just heading downstairs for a glass of water.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.

“On a walk,” you replied immediately, the answer coming out too fast to sound natural.

Bruce didn’t react right away. He just looked at you, quiet and unreadable, like he was waiting for the truth to come out on its own.

“This late at night?” he asked after a moment.

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “Couldn’t sleep.”

The silence that followed felt heavier this time. His gaze didn’t leave you, and you could feel it picking apart every detail, every inconsistency.

“If you couldn’t sleep,” he said slowly, “you wouldn’t be in a hurry.”

Your jaw tightened at that. “I didn’t realize I needed permission to go outside,” you said, a sharper edge creeping into your voice.

“You don’t,” Bruce replied evenly. “But I expect honesty.”

That hit harder than you wanted it to.

You shifted slightly, trying to move past him, but the second you did, he stepped in front of you again, blocking your path with barely any effort. The movement was subtle and controlled, but completely intentional.

“I said I’m just going out,” you snapped, trying again to get past him, but this time his hand caught your wrist before you could slip by. The grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm enough to stop you completely.

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Once. Then again.

You didn’t need to check to know who it was.

“I don’t have time for this,” you said, pulling your hand free and stepping back, frustration starting to show now.

“Then make time,” Bruce said.

Something in you snapped.

You moved without thinking, darting to the side in an attempt to get around him, but he reacted instantly, stepping into your path again. His movements were precise, , he wasn’t trying to hurt you, just stop you.

You changed direction quickly, trying to throw him off, but he adjusted just as fast, catching your arm and redirecting you before you could get past him. You twisted out of it, barely keeping your balance as you stepped back.

Your phone buzzed again.

Louder.

More urgent.

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice tightening. “Move.”

“Then tell me why you’re leaving like this,” he replied.

“I can’t!” you snapped, the words coming out sharper than you meant them tto The hallway fell into silence again, thick and suffocating.

Another buzz.

You clenched your jaw, your heart pounding harder with every second you were stuck here.

“I have to go,” you said, quieter now, but more urgent.

Bruce stepped forward.

And this time, you didn’t hesitate.

You slipped to the side before he could fully react, ducking under his arm when he reached for you and pivoting sharply to break past him. He caught your sleeve as you passed, pulling you back just enough to throw off your momentum, but you didn’t stop. You twisted out of his grasp, pulling free and moving again before he could fully regain control of the situation.

You didn’t look back.

You ran.

Down the hallway, down the stairs, your footsteps echoing through the quiet manor as your pulse pounded in your ears. You pushed through the front doors and out into the night, the cold air hitting your skin immediately as you scanned the street.

The truck was already there.

Engine running.

Passenger door open.

“Finally!” Riyo Reaper called out from the driver’s seat, leaning over with a grin that didn’t quite match the urgency in her eyes. “What took you so long?”

You didn’t answer. You just ran up and climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut harder than necessary.

“Drive,” you said immediately.

Riyo didn’t ask questions. She just stepped on the gas, the truck pulling away from the curb with a sharp screech of tires as it sped off into the street.

You leaned back in your seat, your breathing still uneven, your hands clenched loosely in your lap as the manor disappeared behind you. The tension from the hallway hadn’t left your body yet, it still sat heavy in your chest, mixing with the urgency of the mission and the weight of what you’d just done.

Riyo glanced at you briefly, her usual grin fading just slightly as she took in your expression.

“…You okay?” she asked.

You stared straight ahead, jaw tight, the city lights blurring past the window.

“Just drive.”

She didn’t push it.

The truck picked up speed, cutting through the night as the distance between you and the manor grew larger and larger.

But even as it disappeared from view,

The feeling didn’t.

You and Riyo Reaper didn’t speak much on the way.

The city blurred past in streaks of dim light and shadow, the engine humming loudly beneath you as the truck cut through the streets. The urgency from earlier hadn’t faded, it had only settled deeper, heavier, pressing against your chest with every passing second. Riyo kept her eyes on the road, her usual playful energy toned down into something more focused, more serious. Whatever was waiting for you… it wasn’t going to be simple.

By the time you reached HQ, the place was already in motion.

You both stepped out quickly, heading straight inside without wasting time. The main hall felt different tonight, tenser, quieter in a way that didn’t feel calm. More like everyone was already bracing for impact.

Leaning against one of the walls was Semiu, arms crossed, clearly waiting. The moment she saw you, she straightened slightly.

“You’re late. Finally,” she said, though there wasn’t much bite in it. “There was an attack on a nearby town. Same group. Same symbol. Zanka, Enjin, and the others are already there.”

Your stomach dropped slightly at that.

So it was them.

You nodded once, no hesitation, and Semiu quickly handed over the location. You barely glanced at it before committing it to memory.

“Get moving,” she added. “We don’t know how bad it is yet.”

That was all you needed.

Within moments, you, Riyo, and another supporter were back in the truck, the engine roaring to life as you sped off again, this time toward something far worse.

You knew something was wrong before you even fully arrived.

The sky ahead was wrong.

Too bright.

Too orange.

As the truck crested the final stretch of road, the full scene came immediately, and your chest tightened immediately.

Fire.

Buildings burned, flames licking up into the night sky, thick smoke curling and spreading overhead. The streets were chaos, people running, shouting, trying to get away as debris scattered across the ground. The air felt heavy, filled with heat and the sharp scent of destruction.

Riyo slammed the brakes just enough to stop near the edge of the scene.

“Go!” she snapped.

You didn’t hesitate. The door was open before the truck fully stopped, your boots hitting the ground as you ran forward, scanning everything at once.

Civilians fleeing. Collapsed structures.

And in the middle of it,

Them.

Your eyes locked onto a familiar figure first.

Kage.

Standing amidst the chaos like he belonged there, his long black hair catching faint light from the flames, dark purple clothing barely shifting as if the destruction around him didn’t concern him at all. The leash in his hand dragged slightly along the ground, and near him, those jaguar-like Trash Beasts prowled low, their forms tense and ready.

And he wasn’t alone.

A second figure stood not far from him, dressed entirely in black, with striking white hair that stood out sharply against the firelight. There was that same symbol marked clearly on his nose, the same one you had seen before.

In his hands, A deck of cards.

They flicked between his fingers effortlessly, almost lazily, before snapping outward with sudden speed.

Across from them, Enjin and the others were already engaged, the fight fully underway. The sound of impact echoed through the burning streets, metal, debris, movement colliding in sharp bursts.

One of the cards shot forward like a blade, forcing someone to dodge at the last second as it embedded itself deep into a wall.

The white-haired man smiled faintly.

Then everything moved at once.

You stepped forward, your focus locking in,

And Kage noticed you.

His gaze shifted almost lazily in your direction, but there was recognition there. Interest.

“Well,” he said, voice calm despite the chaos around him. “You made it.”

You didn’t respond.

You moved.

Fast.

Closing the distance between you before he could fully react, your hand already reaching for your jinki as you stepped into his space. The leash snapped upward instantly, meeting your movement head-on, forcing you to pivot to avoid being caught.

You twisted away, stepping back just enough to create space, your eyes locked on him.

“You picked the wrong place,” you said.

Kage tilted his head slightly, almost amused.

“Did I?” he replied.

The leash lashed out again, faster this time, cutting through the air toward you. You ducked under it, stepping in again, trying to close the distance, but one of the jaguar-like beasts lunged from the side, forcing you to redirect your movement completely.

You barely avoided it.

You jumped back, breathing sharper now.

Your hand brushed the music box.

A soft chime.

Time shifted, just slightly.

The beast’s movement slowed just enough for you to sidestep cleanly, your footwork sharper, more controlled. You slipped past it, turning your focus back to Kage immediately.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

His eyes narrowed just slightly.

“So you’ve improved,” he said.

You didn’t answer.

You moved again, faster now, using that same focused control, slowing just him this time, narrowing the effect. His movement dragged for a fraction of a second, just enough for you to get past the initial swing of his leash.

You got close.

Closer than before.

But not close enough.

The leash snapped back suddenly, faster than expected, forcing you to pull away before it wrapped around your arm. You stumbled back slightly, resetting your stance, your breathing uneven now.

The two of you circled each other for a moment, the chaos of the larger fight continuing around you.

Then,

A new presence.

It hit before you even saw him. A sudden shift in the air, like something cutting cleanly through the tension.

Movement that was fast.

A blur.

Someone landed between the fights, precise and controlled, barely making a sound as they touched the ground. Your eyes snapped toward him.

The man from the news.

The one from the image.

Dark red clothing. Mask.

And on him,

That same symbol.

Kage didn’t look surprised. The white-haired man didn’t either. “Finally,” one of them muttered.

The newcomer straightened slightly, adjusting something on his arm, a silver armband that caught the firelight faintly.

Someone nearby exhaled sharply.

“…Hermes.”

The name settled heavily in the air.

And just like that,

The situation got worse.

The fire hadn’t died down. If anything, it had spread further, crawling up the sides of broken buildings and spilling across the streets in uneven waves of orange and gold. Smoke hung thick in the air, stinging your eyes and catching in your throat every time you breathed. The sounds of the fight carried through everything, metal clashing, debris collapsing, the sharp crack of impact when jinki collided. Somewhere to your left, Riyo Reaper was still moving fast, her scissors flashing as she pressed the white-haired man back, while Enjin and the others held their ground against the chaos.

But your focus had already narrowed. Completely.

On him.

Hermes stood a few steps ahead of you, untouched by the disorder surrounding him.

The firelight reflected faintly against the silver armband wrapped tightly around his forearm, the metal catching every flicker of flame like it was alive. His posture was relaxed, almost too relaxed, as if this entire scene, the burning buildings, the fleeing civilians, the ongoing fight, was nothing more than background noise. Even with the mask covering most of his face, you could feel his attention locked onto you, sharp and unwavering.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you felt tense, like it was waiting to snap.

Then he spoke.

“You finally showed up,” he said, his voice calm, steady, and far too familiar.

That was what made something twist in your chest. Not just his presence, but the recognition. You’d heard that voice before. Not here. Not in a fight. Somewhere quieter.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as the realization settled in.

“…You’re the one who texted me,” you said, your tone more certain now.

Hermes tilted his head just slightly, not denying it. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that out.”

Your grip tightened instinctively, your fingers brushing against your music box. The memory of those messages came back clearly now, the unknown number, the offer, the vague suggestion that you should “think about it.” You had thought about it. You just hadn’t answered.

“I didn’t respond for a reason,” you said.

“I noticed,” he replied, almost lightly, as if it didn’t bother him. His gaze shifted briefly, not to your face, but to your hand. More specifically, to the music box. “Have you named it yet?”

The question caught you off guard for a fraction of a second.

You hadn’t planned to say it out loud here. Not like this. Not in the middle of a fight.

But something about the moment, about him asking so casually, like he already expected an answer, made you steady yourself.

“…Celeste,” you said.

The name left your mouth quieter than you expected, but it didn’t feel uncertain. It settled into the air between you, solid and real.

Hermes repeated it slowly, like he was testing the weight of it. “Celeste.”

There was no mockery in his tone. No sarcasm. Just quiet acknowledgment.

“It suits it,” he added. “And it suits you.”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you watched him more carefully now, more aware of the way he stood, the way his arm shifted slightly. That armband wasn’t just decoration. It hadn’t been when you saw it in the article, and it definitely wasn’t now.

“I’ve been watching your fights,” Hermes continued, almost conversationally. “You’re improving. Faster than most. You’re starting to understand how your jinki actually works instead of just using it.”

Your expression hardened slightly. “You’ve been watching me?”

“I don’t make offers blindly,” he said. “That would be careless.”

That word offer brought the conversation back to exactly what you didn’t want it to be.

“I’m not interested,” you said, your voice flat and firm.

Hermes didn’t react immediately. Instead, he lifted his arm slightly, the silver band catching the light again. For a moment, it looked ordinary. Then, subtly, it shifted, thin lines of light tracing along its surface, almost like veins.

“When I reached out to you,” he said, “it wasn’t just curiosity. It was opportunity. For you.”

The lines along the armband brightened faintly.

“You slow time,” he continued. “That’s powerful. But it’s inefficient. You rely on perception, on timing, on maintaining control under pressure.”

The light pulsed once.

“My jinki doesn’t slow time,” he said. “It bypasses it.”

Before you could fully process that, he moved his arm.

And suddenly, he wasn’t where he had been.

It was like he disappeared, a skip through time.

One moment he stood in front of you. The next, he was already at your side.

Your body reacted instantly, your hand snapping the music box open as the melody rang out into the burning street. The sound cut through the chaos, and the world shifted, slowing, bending, focusing.

This time, you didn’t spread it wide. You concentrated it.

On him.

Hermes’ movement slowed, but only slightly.

You saw it clearly now. His jinki didn’t just make him faster. It let him jump between moments, skipping the space in between like pages in a book. Your ability tried to stretch time, but his cut through it entirely.

You stepped back just in time to avoid his strike, his arm passing through where you had been a fraction of a second earlier.

“You see it now,” he said calmly, already repositioning. “The difference.”

You didn’t answer. You moved.

You pushed your focus harder, narrowing the effect further, forcing his movements to drag just enough for you to react. This time, when he shifted again, you caught the motion, not fully, but enough to predict where he would land. You pivoted, dodging his next attack more cleanly, your movements sharper now.

But Hermes didn’t slow down.

If anything, he adapted.

Each time you adjusted, he adjusted faster. Each time you anticipated him, he skipped further ahead, closing distance in ways that didn’t make sense if you tried to follow them normally.

“You’re still relying on reaction,” he said. “That’s your problem.”

He moved again.

This time, you weren’t fast enough.

His strike connected with your side, not a full-force hit, but enough to knock the breath from your lungs and send you stumbling back. The impact broke your rhythm, your focus slipping just enough for the melody to waver.

The world snapped back to normal speed for a fraction of a second.

And that was all he needed.

Hermes closed the distance instantly, his movement sharper now, more direct. Another strike landed, forcing you back again, your footing unsteady as your vision blurred slightly from the impact.

You forced the music box open wider, the melody ringing out again as you tried to regain control, to pull the world back into that slowed, focused state.

But it wasn’t as clean this time.

Your breathing was uneven. Your concentration fractured.

The effect flickered.

“You’re pushing too hard,” Hermes said, his voice steady even as he continued to press forward. “You don’t know your limits yet.”

You tried to step back again, but your legs felt heavier now, slower to respond. Another hit landed, not as strong as before, but enough to throw you further off balance.

The firelight blurred at the edges of your vision. The sounds of the fight around you faded, becoming distant, muffled.

You tried to focus. Tried to hold onto the rhythm of the music. But it slipped.

The melody stuttered.

Then slowed.

Then stopped.

Your grip loosened. The music box tilted slightly in your hand as your knees gave out beneath you.

The last thing you saw was Hermes standing in front of you, completely steady despite everything around him, the flames, the destruction, the ongoing fight.

“…You still chose them,” he said quietly.

And then,

Everything went dark.

The first thing you became aware of was how wrong everything felt.

The air was too still, too thick with dust, and every breath scraped faintly at your throat. Your head pulsed with a dull, persistent ache, and for a moment you didn’t move, didn’t open your eyes, just listened. The quiet pressed in from all sides, broken only by the distant groan of shifting metal somewhere in the building.

When you finally forced your eyes open, the world came into focus slowly. Cracked concrete stretched above you, fractured beams letting in thin slivers of pale light. It looked abandoned—long abandoned.

You tried to move, and pain immediately flared along your wrists.

It was rope.

Tightly wound, rough against your skin, binding your arms behind your back. Your shoulders protested as you shifted, testing the restraint, but there was no give.

“…You’re awake.”

Your gaze snapped toward the voice. Hermes stood a few steps away, partially obscured by shadow, though the glint of the silver armband on his arm caught your attention immediately. He didn’t look injured, not really. Composed, if anything. Watching you with that same unsettling calm focus.

You swallowed, forcing your voice to work. “Where…?”

“Somewhere quiet,” he answered easily, as if the details didn’t matter. He tilted his head slightly, studying your expression. “You collapsed before we could finish our conversation. I didn’t want to lose the opportunity.”

Your jaw tightened. The memory hit in fragments, your fight, his movements, the way your body had simply given out. You pushed yourself up slightly, ignoring the protest in your arms.

“I already gave you an answer,” you said, your voice steadier now.

Hermes stepped closer, boots scraping faintly against the concrete. “People say things in the heat of the moment,” he replied. “Pain, exhaustion, they cloud judgment. I’m giving you a chance to reconsider with a clearer head.”

While he spoke, your fingers shifted behind your back.

Slow. Careful.

You didn’t look down, didn’t let your posture change too much. But you felt it, the familiar shape still tucked where it had been hidden.

Your dagger. He hadn’t taken it.

“You’re really persistent,” you muttered, letting your head tilt slightly as if you were still too tired to care. “Is that your thing? Kidnapping people until they agree with you?”

Hermes didn’t react to the jab. If anything, his expression softened, just barely. “I recognize potential when I see it,” he said. “And yours is being wasted.”

The rope shifted slightly as you began to work the blade against it, sawing at the fibers in small, quiet movements.

“I’m not interested in whatever you think I am,” you replied.

“You manipulate time,” he said, more sharply now. “You’ve already stepped outside the natural order. Don’t pretend you’re any different from me.”

The fibers began to fray.

“I don’t use it the way you do,” you shot back. “That’s the difference.”

“There is no difference,” he insisted, his voice tightening just a fraction. “Not in the end.”

You didn’t answer right away. Your focus stayed split, half on him, half on the slow, steady progress of the rope loosening against your wrists.

Finally, you exhaled softly. “Then I guess we’re not going to agree.”

The last strands gave way.

The moment stretched, it felt thin, fragile.

Then you moved.

You twisted sharply, ripping your arms free and lunging forward in one swift motion, your dagger flashing toward him with all the force you could muster.

For a split second, you thought you had him.

Then he disappeared.

Not completely, just skipped. Like a frame had been cut out of reality.

Your blade sliced through empty air, and before you could recover, he reappeared at your side. His hand clamped down on your wrist, twisting hard enough to send pain shooting up your arm. Your grip faltered, and the dagger slipped from your fingers, clattering across the floor.

You tried to pull back, but he was already moving again, too fast, too precise. Every attempt you made to counter him felt like it came a fraction too late, as if he already knew what you were about to do.

“You’re still relying on instinct alone,” he said, his voice low, almost disappointed, as he forced you off balance.

You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. The world tilted for a moment, your body refusing to respond as quickly as you needed it to.

Hermes retrieved your dagger.

That was worse.

He turned it once in his hand, testing its weight, before looking down at you. “You’re not in a position to refuse anymore,” he said, calm but firm.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, your vision swimming slightly. “You talk too much,” you muttered, though your voice lacked its earlier strength.

He stepped closer, closing the distance with an ease that made your chest tighten. “And you keep making the same mistakes.”

You scrambled backward, your hand brushing against debris, broken concrete, rusted metal,

, and then something familiar.

Cold. Smooth. Your heart skipped.

Celeste.

The golden music box lay half-hidden beside you.

Hermes’ gaze flicked down, catching the movement, and in the same instant, he lunged forward, the dagger aimed straight for your chest.

There was no time to think. Your fingers closed around the music box.

The world didn’t slow.

It …broke?

Sound vanished completely, like someone had ripped it out of existence. Everything around you fractured into suspended fragments, dust hanging midair, Hermes frozen in motion, the blade hovering impossibly close to you.

Your breath caught as something unfamiliar surged through you.

This wasn’t slowing time.

It felt like grabbing hold of it.

Pulling at reality. Forcing it to bend.

Your grip tightened instinctively, panic and instinct colliding. “Go back-” you gasped, though the sound didn’t carry.

Reality snapped.

Everything reversed.

The dagger pulled away from your chest, retracing its path. Hermes’ body moved backward in unnatural, jerking motions, each step undone as if the world itself was rewinding. The dust settled back into place, the air folding in on itself.

Your body shifted with it, dragged back into a moment that had already passed. Then, all at once, everything slammed back into motion.

You were on the ground again, your hand already wrapped around Celeste, your body uninjured, untouched.

Hermes stood a few steps away, just before he had lunged.

This time, when his eyes met yours, something had changed.

He had noticed.

“…What did you just do?” he asked, his voice no longer calm, but sharp with something closer to disbelief.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Because now you knew exactly what he was about to do.

The shift in Hermes’ expression was small, but you caught it.

That brief flicker of uncertainty.

It was enough.

You didn’t wait for him to move first this time. The moment the world settled back into place, you pushed yourself up and lunged, closing the distance before he could slip between moments again. Your movements were sharper now, more deliberate, not because you could predict him, but because you remembered just enough of what had almost happened to avoid falling into the same rhythm.

Hermes reacted quickly, but not quickly enough to stay completely in control. He skipped backward, the air around him distorting for a fraction of a second, but you followed instead of hesitating. Your foot caught against the ground where you knew debris had been before, and you adjusted mid-step, using the momentum instead of losing it.

For the first time since the fight began, you forced him onto the defensive.

His brows drew together slightly as he deflected your strikes, his movements still unnatural but no longer effortless. “So that’s how it is,” he said, voice quieter now, more focused. “You don’t just slow time,you reset it.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t afford to waste breath on words.

Your gaze flicked briefly to the side, there.

Your dagger.

You broke away just enough to dive for it, fingers closing tightly around the familiar grip. The weight of it steadied you, grounded you in a way nothing else could.

When you turned back, you didn’t hesitate.

This time, your attacks came faster, cleaner. Hermes skipped once, twice, trying to throw off your timing, but you adjusted, forcing him into tighter movements, giving him less space to exploit. The earlier version of this fight, the one where you had been disarmed so easily, kept replaying faintly in the back of your mind, guiding your choices without fully revealing the outcome.

Your blade caught against his arm, not deep, but enough. Enough to break his composure.

He staggered back a step, eyes narrowing, something sharper replacing the calm calculation he’d held onto until now.

“You’re learning too fast,” he muttered.

You pressed forward, not letting him recover, your grip tightening as you drove him back again. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like you had the upper hand.

Like you might actually win this.

Then something shifted.

Not in Hermes though, behind you.

You didn’t hear it.

You felt it.

A sharp, crushing impact slammed into your side before you could turn, sending pain exploding through your ribs. The force knocked the air from your lungs and tore the dagger from your grip as your body hit the ground hard.

Everything went white for a second.

Your fingers twitched, trying to push yourself up,

But nothing responded.

Your limbs wouldn’t move.

Panic surged, sharp and immediate, as you tried again, harder this time, forcing your body to react.

Nothing.

A low, distorted ringing filled your ears as your vision struggled to refocus.

Boots came into view first.

More than one pair.

“…You didn’t tell us they’d be this troublesome,” a voice said from somewhere above you, unfamiliar and edged with irritation.

Hermes exhaled slowly, stepping back into view. “I was handling it.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

You tried to turn your head, but even that felt sluggish, like your body was no longer fully yours. The paralysis clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.

More figures moved around you, blurred shapes at the edges of your vision. One of them crouched, rifling through your jacket with quick, practiced movements.

Your dagger was picked up, You felt it, not physically, but in the way your chest tightened.

“Got this,” the same voice said, holding it up briefly before it disappeared from your line of sight.

Another hand moved near you, slower this time, deliberate.

Celeste.

Your grip had loosened at some point,when you’d been hit, maybe, and now it was being taken just as easily.

Your chest tightened sharply, panic spiking again, stronger this time.

“Careful with that,” Hermes said, his tone returning to something calmer, though there was an edge beneath it now.

You tried to reach for it, but fingers couldnt move.

The world tilted as someone grabbed your arm, hauling you roughly across the ground. The friction burned against your skin, but it felt distant compared to the growing, suffocating helplessness settling in your chest.

You couldn’t fight back.

Couldn’t even move.

“Transport’s ready,” another voice called.

“Good,” Hermes replied.

Your vision blurred as you were dragged further, the broken ceiling disappearing from view, replaced by darkness as they pulled you out of the building.

By the time you were fully aware again, the air had changed.

The place you were in was colder. Cleaner. Controlled. The ground beneath you wasn’t rough concrete anymore, it was smooth, almost sterile. The faint hum of machinery replaced the creaking silence from before.

Underground.

That realization settled heavily in your mind as your vision cleared.

Lights lined the ceiling above, harsh and artificial. The walls were intact, reinforced, nothing like the abandoned ruin you’d woken up in earlier.

A base.

You were strapped down this time.

No rope.

Metal restraints locked your wrists and ankles in place, leaving no room to twist free, no slack to work with. Your body still ached from the earlier fight, but the paralysis had faded, replaced by a dull, lingering weakness.

Footsteps echoed. You didn’t need to turn your head to know who it was.

Hermes stepped into view, no longer shadowed, his expression composed again, but colder than before.

“You made this more difficult than it needed to be,” he said.

You let out a quiet, dry laugh, wincing slightly at the strain. “You kidnapped me,” you muttered. “What part of that was supposed to be easy?”

His gaze didn’t soften.

“We’re going to try something simpler,” he continued, ignoring the comment. “You’re from Gotham.”

Your expression didn’t change, but something in your chest tightened. “I want information,” he said. “Structure. Leadership. The people at the top.”

You stared at him for a moment, then let your head fall back slightly against the surface behind you.

“…You dragged me all the way here for that?” you asked, your voice rough but laced with something faintly mocking. “You could’ve just Googled it.”

The impact came fast.

A sharp strike across your side that forced the breath out of you in a broken gasp.

Pain flared, bright and immediate.

“Don’t waste our time,” someone snapped from beside you.

You coughed, struggling to catch your breath, but a faint smile still tugged at your lips despite it. “That all you’ve got?” you managed.

Another hit.

Harder this time.

Your body jerked against the restraints, pain stacking over pain until it became difficult to separate one from the other.

“Names,” Hermes said, his voice cutting through the noise, calm but unyielding. “Access points. Security. You belong there, so tell me how it works.”

You swallowed, forcing your breathing to steady even as your vision blurred at the edges.

“…Not happening,” you said.

The response earned you another blow.

And another.

Time blurred after that, not in the way you controlled, but in the way pain and exhaustion stretched moments into something shapeless. Questions came, repeated in different ways, met with the same answers, or no answers at all. Every attempt at sarcasm, every deflection, only made it worse.

But you didn’t give them anything.

Not a single useful detail.

Eventually, even your stubbornness started to falter, not in will, but in strength. Your body could only take so much. Your voice weakened, your responses slowing until they barely came at all.

The last thing you were aware of was someone grabbing your chin, forcing your head up as Hermes studied your face, his expression unreadable.

“Stubborn,” he said quietly.

You tried to respond.

Nothing came out.

The world dimmed at the edges, the pain dulling into something distant as exhaustion finally overtook it. And then everything went dark. Again.

When you woke up, it wasn’t sudden.

Consciousness returned slowly, like dragging yourself up through thick water. Your body felt heavy, worse than before. Every inch of you ached, layered pain settling deep into your muscles and bones. Even breathing took effort, your ribs protesting with every shallow inhale.

For a while, you didn’t move.

You just listened, the low hum of machinery was still there, constant and controlled. Distant footsteps echoed faintly through the structure, followed by muffled voices you couldn’t quite make out. Nothing sounded urgent. Nothing sounded like they were expecting trouble.

Good.

Your eyes opened carefully, adjusting to the dim, artificial lighting overhead. The room was different from before, smaller, more contained. You weren’t strapped to a table this time, but you weren’t exactly free either.

A holding room.

Your wrists were bound again, this time with something tighter, thinner, cord, maybe, or reinforced binding. Your ankles too. Not as restrictive as the restraints before, but enough to keep you from moving freely.

They thought you were too weak to try anything.

They weren’t entirely wrong.

You swallowed, your throat dry, and forced yourself to shift. Pain flared immediately, sharp and unrelenting, but you pushed through it, your mind already working past the discomfort.

How long?

You didn’t know.

There were no windows, no sense of time passing down here. But your body told you enough, the exhaustion, the lingering hunger, the stiffness that had settled deep into your limbs.

Not hours.

Days.

The thought sat heavy in your chest, but you pushed it aside. You could process that later.

Right now, you needed to move.

Slowly, carefully, you rolled onto your side, biting back a sharp breath as your ribs protested. Your fingers flexed weakly against the bindings, testing them. Tight, but not impossible.

You shifted again, angling your wrists against the edge of the metal platform you’d been left on. The surface was rough in places, worn just enough to give you something to work with.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

You started sawing at the bindings, small, controlled movements, ignoring the way your hands trembled from the effort. Progress was slow, painfully slow, but the fibers began to give, little by little.

Your breathing stayed shallow, measured. Every sound felt too loud in the quiet room, every movement too noticeable. You paused whenever footsteps passed outside, going still until they faded again.

Finally, after what felt like far too long, the tension around your wrists loosened.

One more pull-

The binding snapped. You didn’t waste a second. You worked quickly to free your ankles, your movements clumsy but urgent now that you had momentum.

Once you were free, you sat there for a moment, breathing hard, your vision swimming slightly as your body struggled to keep up.

Then you forced yourself up.

Your legs nearly gave out immediately.

You caught yourself against the wall, a sharp hiss escaping your teeth as pain shot through your side. Everything felt wrong, unsteady, like your body didn’t fully belong to you anymore.

“Move,” you muttered under your breath. “Just move.”

You pushed off the wall.

One step. Then another. The door wasn’t locked.

That surprised you, but only for a second. They hadn’t expected you to get this far.

Carefully, you eased it open, peering out into the corridor beyond.

Empty.

Cold, sterile lighting stretched down the hall, casting long shadows against reinforced walls. The same quiet hum filled the space, broken only by distant movement somewhere deeper in the base.

You slipped out.

Every step hurt. Your balance was off, your strength barely holding, but adrenaline carried you forward. You stuck close to the walls, moving slowly, listening for any sign you’d been noticed.

Twice, you had to duck into side rooms as footsteps approached, your heart pounding hard enough that you were sure it would give you away.

But it didn’t.

Luck, or something close to it, stayed on your side.

Eventually, you found what you were looking for.

An exit.

Not the main one, too exposed, but a secondary access point, half-concealed behind a maintenance corridor. The door was secured, but not heavily.

You didn’t have time to think.

You just acted.

It took more effort than it should have, your hands slipping slightly as you forced the mechanism open, your strength barely enough to get it done. But after a tense few seconds, the lock gave with a quiet click.

Fresh air hit you the moment the door opened.

Cold.

Sharp.

Real.

You stumbled out, the sudden change making your head spin. The sky above was dim, either early morning or late evening, you couldn’t tell. The world felt too open after being underground for so long.

You didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

You didn’t know how far you were from anything familiar, but you knew one thing clearly,

You had to get back.

The journey blurred together.

Time didn’t move normally for you anymore, not after everything. You weren’t using Celeste, Hell, you didn't even know where your jinki was, but the lingering disorientation, the exhaustion, made everything feel uneven. Steps stretched, distances warped in your perception.

You rested when you had to, brief, shallow pauses against walls or alleyways, but you never let yourself fully stop.

Eventually, the place shifted.

Familiar structures. Familiar routes.

And then,

The path you knew.

Cleaner HQ.

Relief hit harder than you expected.

You barely made it through the entrance.

The moment you crossed inside, the tension you’d been holding snapped. Your legs faltered, your balance giving out just enough to send you catching yourself against the nearest surface.

Voices reacted instantly.

“-Hey, wait-”

“Is that-?”

“Get someone-now!”

Footsteps rushed toward you, urgent and overlapping. Hands grabbed your arms,, not rough, but firm, steadying you before you could hit the ground again.

“Stay with me,” someone said, their voice sharp with concern. “Don’t try to move.”

“I’m fine,” you tried to say.

It came out weaker than you meant.

“You’re not fine,” another voice cut in, closer now. “What happened to you?”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

The adrenaline was fading, fast.

Now that you were here, somewhere safe, somewhere familiar, your body was finally giving in to everything it had been holding back.

“Medic!” someone called out, louder this time. “We need a medic, now!”

The word barely registered before more movement surrounded you. You were guided, half-walked, half-carried—through the halls, your feet dragging more than stepping.

The lights overhead blurred together.

Voices overlapped.

“Careful-”

“They’re barely conscious-”

“Werent they gone for 3 days?”

“Doesn’t matter, just move-”

You were lowered onto something—soft, but firm enough to keep you in place. Hands moved quickly around you, checking, assessing, working with practiced efficiency.

“Easy,” a calmer voice said near you, steady and grounding. “You’re safe. Just stay still.”

Safe.

The word echoed faintly in your mind.

For the first time in what felt like days, your body stopped fighting.

You didn’t pass out.

But you let your eyes close, just for a moment, as the noise around you softened and the tension finally began to ease- even if only a little.

ACT ONE - END

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