Jimmy's vision slipped again.
Not violently. Not painfully.
It drifted.
Metal softened, losing its authority. Dense alloys thinned into pale outlines, as if the universe had decided privacy was optional now. Vex's armor—dark, angular, clearly designed to project danger—became translucent.
Jimmy stopped breathing.
Glowing tattoos traced her body beneath the suit in slow, elegant arcs. They weren't random markings; they followed her anatomy with deliberate intimacy. Light spilled over the curve of her breasts, flowing downward along her ribs and stomach like living circuitry, pooling faintly at her hips before branching down her legs. The glow pulsed gently, synced to her breath, her heartbeat—her emotions.
Warm gold edged into violet.
"Oh," Jimmy whispered before he could stop himself.
The vision wavered, threatening to deepen, and he forced his eyes shut like a man slamming a door in a hurricane.
"That sound," Vex said calmly, "was not subtle."
Jimmy dragged a hand down his face. "I just accidentally violated several laws of decency and physics at the same time."
Sparky floated helpfully between them. "For clarity: he consumed an alien sensory organ and now sees through metal. Your outfit appears to be composed primarily of metal. This is unfortunate for everyone."
Vex's tattoos flared brighter.
Instead of stepping away, she stepped closer.
"Open your eyes," she said.
Jimmy hesitated. Then obeyed.
The glow returned immediately, sharper now with proximity. Heat traced her shape, mapping strength and grace and a body built for survival and command. The tattoos over her chest burned brighter, responding to the moment, to him. She knew exactly what he could see—and she wasn't ashamed of it.
His gaze flicked up, mortified and fascinated.
"I swear," he said hoarsely, "I'm trying to be respectful."
"Are you?" Vex asked softly.
She tilted her head, studying him. The glow along her collarbone deepened, trailing downward, alive and reactive.
"You're blushing," she added.
"That's my face apologizing," Jimmy said. "It does that when I'm overwhelmed by—uh—excellent bone structure and powerful symbolism."
That earned a low laugh from her—pleased, dangerous.
"This is where you give your name," she said.
"Jimmy," he replied. "Jones."
A pause. Then: "Tragic."
She straightened slightly, composure settling back into place even as the tattoos continued to glow.
"I am Vex," she said. "Of House Kaelith. Former Princess of the Iridian Reach."
The word former dimmed the glow, just a fraction.
"My house was erased," Vex continued. "Sold and burned in the name of stability. I survived because exile is quieter than execution."
Jimmy's eyes stayed on her face now. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.
"I'm sorry."
She searched him for irony. Found none.
"You are altered," Vex said, gaze dropping briefly—deliberately—to his chest, his hands, the faint energy humming under his skin. "That eye changed you."
As if summoned, Jimmy's stomach growled—low, insistent.
Her eyes flicked to it. Interest sparked. The tattoos along her body flared warmer.
"That hunger," she murmured, stepping close enough that the heat between them was undeniable, "will make you powerful."
She leaned in just enough to steal his breath.
"And dangerous."
Alarms screamed from her ship.
Vex straightened instantly, tattoos flaring crimson as she drew her blade.
"Syndicate hunters," she said. "You can run."
She looked back at him—measuring, curious, very aware of what passed between them.
"Or you can come with me."
Jimmy swallowed, heart pounding, hunger roaring in more ways than one.
"Princess," he said, managing a grin, "I think I already crossed the point of no return."
Vex smiled—slow, confident, and promising trouble.
"Good," she said. "I don't take boring men with me."
The first shot missed Jimmy's head by less than an inch.
He felt the heat before he heard it—a violent kiss of plasma slicing past his ear and detonating against a mound of scrap behind him. Metal screamed. Shrapnel rained.
Jimmy yelped and dove on instinct, rolling hard across the ground and slamming shoulder-first into something sharp.
"OW—okay—running now sounds great," he shouted.
Vex didn't run.
She moved.
Her tattoos flared violent crimson as she surged forward, blade igniting with a scream of warped air. The first Syndicate hunter barely had time to register her before she was inside his guard, twisting, cutting, disarming him in a single fluid motion. His rifle clattered to the ground. He followed shortly after, unconscious—or worse.
Jimmy stared.
"Oh," he breathed. "She fights like she looks."
Sparky zipped past his face. "Compliment later. Survival now."
Another hunter vaulted down from the wreckage above, heavy armor locking into place as targeting optics whined. He raised his weapon—
—and Jimmy saw through it.
The eye burned behind his forehead, vision peeling back layers of alloy and circuitry. He could see the hunter's stance, the tension in his muscles, the exact moment before he fired.
"Vex!" Jimmy shouted. "Left—now!"
She trusted him instantly.
She ducked just as the shot fired, plasma ripping through the space her head had occupied. Jimmy scrambled up, heart hammering, hunger roaring, and did the only thing his body suggested.
He charged.
It felt insane. It felt right.
The hunter turned too slowly. Jimmy slammed into him shoulder-first, the impact rattling his bones—but the Aether-Clove strength held. They crashed together into a heap of scrap, Jimmy on top, breath knocked out of him by the sheer mass of armored body beneath him.
For half a second, Jimmy realized he had no plan past this point.
Then Vex was there.
She landed astride the hunter in one smooth motion, knees pinning his arms, blade hovering inches from his throat. Her tattoos blazed bright gold now—adrenaline, focus, something sharper. Jimmy was suddenly very aware of proximity: her thigh pressed against his hip, the heat of her body bleeding through armor and air alike.
The hunter stopped struggling.
Smart man.
Vex finished it quickly and rose, offering Jimmy a hand.
He took it—and she pulled him up hard, closer than necessary. For a breath, they were chest to chest, the glow of her tattoos washing over him. His vision flickered dangerously, threatening to betray him again.
"You did well," she said quietly.
Jimmy laughed, breathless. "I tackled a professional killer."
"Yes," she agreed. "Endearing. And stupid."
Another explosion rocked the Sump.
More hunters.
Vex swore in a language that sounded expensive. She grabbed Jimmy by the collar and shoved him toward her ship.
"Stay close," she ordered. "If you lose sight of me, you die."
"Noted!" Jimmy shouted, sprinting after her.
They fought back-to-back near the ramp—Vex a blur of precision and lethal grace, Jimmy a chaotic force of improvised violence and stolen perception. He called shots. She trusted them. At one point, a hunter rounded the corner too close, and Jimmy reacted without thinking—grabbing, throwing, feeling the strength surge through him as the body sailed screaming into the wreckage.
His stomach growled.
Vex heard it even over the gunfire.
Her gaze snapped to him—sharp, assessing, something heated beneath it.
"Control it," she said.
"I'm trying!" Jimmy snapped back.
They reached the ship together. Vex slammed the ramp controls, hauling Jimmy inside just as shots peppered the hull. The ramp sealed with a hiss.
Silence.
For a moment, they just stood there—breathing hard, adrenaline thick in the air, bodies too close in the narrow entryway. Her tattoos slowly dimmed from crimson to gold.
Jimmy laughed weakly. "So… first date went well?"
Vex's lips curved despite herself.
"You survived," she said. "That's promising."
The ship lifted off.
Jimmy leaned against the wall, heart still racing, hunger coiled tight and waiting.
Whatever he was becoming—
—it wasn't small anymore.