A woman with barely any facial features stood before Sasha. The sunlight flared so harshly it blurred her outline, and the noisy background made it seem like her mouth moved without sound. Then everything went black.
Sasha's eyes snapped open to the shrill ring of an alarm.
She stumbled into the living room, hair messy, eyes half-shut. "Ah—oh right. Not my house." With a yawn, she scratched her arm and squinted at Berry. "What are you doing up so early?"
Berry turned, unimpressed. "I think the real question is—why are you up so late? Anyway, your ID came in this morning."
"Really?"
"I don't remember stuttering. Here."
Sasha snatched the card and examined it. "Okay. Come on, Berry—I need you to take me to the bank today. Please?"
"The bank?"
"My dad's been to the Big City before, remember? Now that I have this card, I can finally withdraw some money."
Berry narrowed his eyes. "Wait—how do you even know you need an ID for that?"
"Look, kid—just because I haven't been places doesn't mean I'm stupid, okay?"
"...Fair enough. I'll take you."
"Thank you," she said with a sweet smile.
Later that day, the two entered the bank. Sasha immediately felt a strange sensation. Ivi Town had always been cold, surrounded by fog and water—but this cold was different. It was refreshing. She could smell it—crisp, clean. She could taste it—sweet.
Without warning, she grabbed Berry's arm and pulled him close. "Uncle Pablo's got two of those rectangle things back at home!"
"...Who's Uncle Pablo?"
"The fine women call him Big Daddy. He's fat, always flashing cash. But I call him Uncle Pablo—'cause his rectangle box says 'Pablo.'"
Berry raised a brow. "I thought you couldn't read."
"Excuse me—I can. It just takes a really long time."
"Sorry."
"Apologies aside, the main point is—if you put your mouth close enough to those window boxes on the permanently locked fridge—"
"That's called an A.C."
"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever. The air tastes better than water." She framed her head with her hands in a mind-blown gesture. "Now come on—let's try it!"
Berry yanked his arm back, visibly uncomfortable. "Can we just get this over with?"
"Oh, right. You wait here—I'll get it."
"Do you even know how?"
"Yes."
Hours later, Sasha returned to find Berry asleep in the waiting area. "Hey, Berry—I'm done." She poked his face until he stirred.
"I'm awake, I'm awake. Just—stop doing that."
Outside, Sasha begged to ride the bike while Berry sat as passenger. He gave in after she swore she used to ride one back home.
At first, the ride was smooth. Then Sasha sped up.
"Slow down!" Berry cried, gripping tight.
"What's the matter—you scared of the wind?"
"No—we're gonna crash!"
"I believe I have the situation under control."
"No, I mean it—the brakes on my bike don't work properly!"
"You know, you could've led with that."
"What do you think I meant by 'SLOW DOWN'?!"
"Well, I can't—the brakes don't work."
"Then stop pedaling!"
"Oh yeah."
She stopped pedaling, and the bike shot across the street before toppling over.
"Did I forget to mention—you're supposed to use your feet so we don't collapse?" Berry muttered sarcastically.
"Look on the bright side—we're at our destination."
"This is a hardware store."
"You sure you don't need nails?"
"No."
She picked the bike up, and they walked the rest of the way.
Night fell.
In another part of the city, three hero agents—Silent, Christan, and Astra—approached a crime scene.
For a city where every crime was punishable by death, there were still those who took risks. Sometimes, if luck held, they got away with it.
Tonight, someone had broken into a government lab—one of the most secure in the nation. By day, it was guarded by brute force. By night, by the smartest locks ever made. Yet somehow, someone had slipped inside.
A squad of ten was dispatched. Only three entered to confront the intruder.
Silent: pale-eyed marksman, his vision stretched three kilometers. His shots never missed—unless you could outrun a bullet.
Christan: memory-lock. She could recall and project any detail she chose into others' minds. What she saw—you saw.
Astra: wave manipulator. From his hands and mouth, he projected light and sound waves, bending frequency and range as he wished.
Inside, every computer had been shut down—smart locks deactivated. No cameras. No guidance.
They split up.
Astra found the intruder first.
The figure clutched a silver briefcase. A black jumpsuit cloaked its body, the bottoms loose, the boots laced high. Its mask bore X-shaped eyes and a stitched, grotesque smile that stretched too wide across its cheeks. No nose. No features.
Just that smile.