Chapter Text
It was the kind of night that begged for trouble. The stars above Copper-9 were unusually bright, scattered like spilled glass over a sky that didn’t care about the things crawling beneath it. The winds carried whispers through broken towers, skimming over heaps of scrap and twisted metal that once belonged to a city and now only served as bones for vultures to perch on.
Inside the bunker, most people were asleep. Which made it the perfect time for Thad to slip out.
He was good at sneaking. Years of ditching curfew and sneaking out of the dorms for dumb high school stunts had honed the skill. But tonight wasn’t about a prank or a dare. Tonight was about something far more dangerous.
And fun.
And stupid.
The triple crown.
“Thad,” Lizzy hissed, crouched beside him near the shadow of the bunker’s service door. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”
“Nope,” Thad whispered back, flashing her a grin. “But when has that ever stopped me?”
Lizzy rolled her eyes. Doll, pressed up against her girlfriend’s side, stifled a snicker. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Thad. Otherwise, I’d have to smack you.”
“Lucky’s my middle name,” he said, easing the door open with a creak that made all three of them freeze. When no alarms blared, he let out a breath. “See? Easy.”
Lizzy arched a brow. “So. What, exactly, are we doing?”
“Going to see V.” Thad said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Lizzy’s expression went flat. “The giant psycho lizard lady? Who could eat us in one bite?”
“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” Thad said with mock offense. Then, more sheepishly, “And yeah. Her.”
Lizzy tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “Still blows my mind that out of everyone, you’re the one who bagged the baddest bitch on the planet.”
Doll shot her a look. “Excuse me? I’m standing right here.”
“Babe, you know what I mean,” Lizzy said quickly, holding up her hands. “I’m just saying—it’s V. She’s like, apex predator hot. Terrifying hot. I’ve never seen a girl taller than six feet dip anyone, let alone some dorky basketball captain.”
Thad puffed his chest out proudly. “Thank you. Finally, someone gets it.”
Lizzy shoved his shoulder. “Don’t let it get to your head. Seriously, though—how did you even pull that off?”
Thad hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Okay, so… story time. First time I saw her, right? She didn’t kill me. Which was already like, ten points in her favor. So, me being me, I just… kinda… called her pretty.”
Lizzy stared. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Thad said cheerfully. “And instead of ripping my throat out, she just… blinked at me. Then grinned. Then it was like, boom, I was in.”
Lizzy threw her hands up. “You mean to tell me the dumbass jock move of ‘call scary girl pretty’ actually worked?”
“Worked like a charm,” Thad said, smug. “After that, I started sneaking out. Spent time with her. Talked. You know. Normal couple stuff. Well—” He made vague gestures. “Normal if you ignore the wings and claws and occasional murder-y vibe.”
Doll leaned forward, curious. “And then what? You confessed? She confessed?”
“We were hanging out one night, and she just… kinda looked at me with those big glowing eyes, and I thought—well, this is it, I’m dead. But then she kissed me. And the rest is history.”
Lizzy blinked. “That’s it? That’s the whole—”
She never finished the sentence. Because something white and massive dropped out of the sky with a snap of wings.
Thad barely had time to yelp before claws scooped him up, pinning him against something solid and warm. In one dizzying rush, he was yanked into the air, the ground shrinking below him until the bunker looked like a toy. The night air whipped his hair into his face. He clung instinctively to whatever had grabbed him—only to realize he was cradled, quite deliberately, in a princess carry.
“Oh,” he said breathlessly. “Hi, babe.”
V’s teeth glinted in the moonlight as she smirked down at him. “Mine.”
“Always,” Thad said automatically.
Below, Lizzy’s jaw hit the ground. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Doll grabbed her arm, eyes wide. “Okay but… tell me that’s not the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.”
Lizzy slapped her forehead. “I’m dating you! I’m the hottest thing you’ve ever seen!”
“Still,” Doll muttered.
V flew them high. Higher than Thad had ever been. The air grew thin and cold, the ruins far below blurred into shadows and broken steel. She landed finally on the jagged peak of a crumbled skyscraper, the city stretching out around them like a graveyard of giants.
She didn’t set him down.
Instead, she held him closer, her claws digging ever so slightly into his side. Her wings wrapped half around him, shielding him from the wind. Her breathing was harsh. Controlled. But the tremor in her voice when she finally spoke betrayed her.
“I’m pissed.”
Thad swallowed, trying to read her mood. “About… being banned?”
“Yes.” Her voice was sharp, guttural. “Do you have any idea what it feels like? To try. To put in the effort. To play nice. To stay calm. To keep the monster leashed. And then still be treated like trash. Like a walking time bomb.”
He opened his mouth—but she cut him off, eyes flashing.
“Do you know how disheartening that is? To fight every instinct telling you to kill, to tear, to do what they made us to do—and instead, I tried to be better. For you. For him. And it doesn’t matter. To them, I’ll always be a beast. A freak. A thing to lock outside.”
Her voice cracked.
For the first time since he’d known her, V sounded… small.
Thad reached up, brushing his hand against her jaw. “V. I’m sorry, that must be so hard for you…”
But she shook her head violently, snarling through clenched teeth. “I don’t care about me. I never have. They can hate me. Fear me. Doesn’t matter. I don’t need them. But N—”
Her voice faltered.
Thad’s chest tightened.
“N has tried,” she said, her claws curling against his side. “Harder than anyone. He’s kind. He listens. He plays at being harmless when we both know he’s not. He’s put in the work. And they still spit on him. Still treat him like he’s… a monster.”
Her eyes gleamed wet. Rage burned bright behind them. “I failed him before, Thad. I left him. I hated him. I hurt him. And now I’m failing him again.”
Thad shook his head, gripping her shoulders. “No. You’re not failing him.”
“I am.” Her voice cracked, bitter. “He deserved better than me as a squadmate. He deserved better than this whole rotten colony. And now he thinks he’s worthless. I can see it in him. Every time he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes. I—”
She broke off, sucking in a ragged breath. Her talons trembled where they clutched him. She looked like she was about to split apart.
Thad didn’t think.
He just leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Listen to me. You didn’t fail him. You’re here now. That’s what matters. You’re protecting him. Standing up for him. You care. That’s not failure.”
V blinked. Her eyes softened. For a long moment, she just stared at him.
Then—like a cat nudging for affection—she lightly bumped her forehead against his again. Not hard. Not aggressive. Just… gentle.
Thad smiled. “You want me to scratch your head, don’t you?”
“Say it out loud and I’ll drop you,” she muttered.
But she didn’t pull away.
Down below, Lizzy and Doll craned their necks up at the two figures silhouetted against the stars.
“…Okay,” Doll said finally. “That’s kind of adorable.”
Lizzy groaned. “I still don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to,” Doll teased. “He does.”
“Unbelievable,” Lizzy muttered. “The dumbest jock on the planet, and he pulls the queen of murder dragons. Meanwhile, I had to fight tooth and nail just to get you.”
“Worth it?” Doll asked, smirking.
Lizzy’s expression softened. “…Yeah. Worth it.”
V stayed there with Thad a long time. The city groaned beneath them. The wind howled. And for once, she let herself feel something other than rage.
She had her mate in her arms.
And for the first time in years, maybe… maybe she wasn’t entirely alone.
The ruins always breathed differently at dawn.
The broken glass windows of the old mall rattled against their frames when the cold wind passed through, like a dying organ pipe trying to play one last mournful tune. Doll pulled her jacket tighter, her pale fingers curling against the fabric like claws, while Lizzy bounced along beside her with the exact energy of a raccoon that had gotten into someone’s liquor cabinet.
“You’re way too cheerful for sneaking out past curfew,” Doll muttered, not bothering to hide the edge in her voice. “You realize if the DF catches us out here, they’re not going to pat us on the back for our sense of adventure.”
Lizzy grinned wide, like she was daring Doll to scold her harder. “Please. You say that like I haven’t been sneaking out since before you knew what eyeliner was. Besides—” she twirled, arms flaring out dramatically, “—you didn’t bring me along for my stealth. You brought me for my charm.”
“You came because I couldn’t stop you,” Doll shot back flatly, though the faint pink rising across her cheeks betrayed the fact that Lizzy’s grin wasn’t entirely wasted.
The mall loomed ahead of them, a corpse of consumerism left to rot. Plastic mannequins lay toppled like casualties across tiled floors, their once-shiny heads shattered into fragments. Stores that once promised eternal glamour now sagged like missing teeth, shelves stripped bare and logos faded to the color of old bones.
Lizzy let out a low whistle. “Still creeps me out every time. You ever think about how weird this is? Like, people used to come here to shop. They’d just… hang out. Spend money. Then leave. No fighting, no screaming, no monster attacks. Just—what? Pretzels and perfume samples?”
Doll didn’t answer. She was staring too hard at the fashion store ahead of them—the one Echo had claimed for himself, his self-proclaimed “dragon hoard.” Tattered banners for half-off jeans swayed faintly in the wind, and a single light flickered inside.
Lizzy noticed her stiffening. “You sure he’s not gonna, like, swoop down from the rafters and claw our faces off? I like my face. It’s very dateable. I know he’s on our side, but when was the last time he ate?”
Before Doll could retort, a crash echoed through the store, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone cursing while knocking over a pile of metal hangers.
Lizzy blinked. “…Okay, that’s either Echo, or the ghost of a disgruntled mall worker.”
“It’s Echo,” Doll said, and without waiting, she pushed the door open.
Inside, the air smelled like dust, mothballs, and faintly… spray paint? Lizzy squinted and realized half the mannequins had been repainted with crude wyvern graffiti, their blank faces replaced with toothy cartoon snarls or crooked hearts.
And right in the middle of it all—Echo.
He was perched on top of a shelf, oversized hoodie sagging around his wiry frame, wings tucked tight but twitching with restless energy. A necklace made of random junk—buttons, screws, bottle caps—clinked faintly as he leaned down. His eyes lit up the moment he spotted them.
“Finally! Took you long enough. What’d you do, stop for gas?”
Lizzy smirked. “Maybe I did. What are you gonna do about it? Fight me? Bite me?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Echo shot back, but his grin softened. He hopped down with a glide that looked far more graceful than it had any right to. “Alright, spill. You wouldn’t drag your girlfriend along if this wasn’t big. So—what’s the deal, Dollface?”
Doll hesitated. It wasn’t often she let herself open up—her armor wasn’t scales like V’s, but sarcasm sharp enough to cut glass. But here, under the cracked skylight and surrounded by ruined mannequins, she finally said it.
“I’m looking for my parents.”
The words hit the floor like lead. Even Lizzy, who rarely shut up, fell silent.
Echo tilted his head. “Oh.”
“They left,” Doll continued, voice harder now. If she let it soften, she knew she’d break. “When I was little. Said they’d be back after… something. I don’t even know what. They never came back. And nobody ever told me why.”
Lizzy reached for her hand. Doll didn’t pull away.
“I thought maybe…” Doll’s gaze dropped. “…if I started looking, I’d find some kind of answer. Even if they’re not—” she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Echo didn’t tease. For once, the gremlin act dropped, and his expression sobered. “…You want my help.”
“Yes,” Doll said simply.
Echo gave a short, sharp nod, as though that settled it. Then he snapped his wings open so suddenly Lizzy yelped.
“Alright! First rule of search parties—get high.”
Lizzy blinked. “…I beg your pardon?”
“In the air, dumbass,” Echo snorted, already reaching for them. “What, you think we’re just gonna wander around on foot, combing through garbage like raccoons? No offense.”
“None taken,” Lizzy said sweetly. “Though if I were a raccoon, I’d be a hot raccoon.”
Echo rolled his eyes so hard his whole head moved. “You two coming or what?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. With a flap that stirred dust from every corner of the store, he scooped them both up—Doll tucked carefully against his chest, Lizzy dangling upside down in the other arm like an unruly cat.
Lizzy immediately screamed—not in terror, but joy. “WE’RE FLYING, HOLY SHIT! DOLL, WE’RE FLYING!”
“I noticed,” Doll hissed, clutching Echo’s hoodie tight. “Don’t drop us, Echo, I swear to God—”
“Relax, I got you,” Echo said, smugness back in full force. “You think I’d let my favorite gay disaster splat on the pavement? Nah. I got a reputation to uphold.”
The night air whipped around them, sharp and cold, but alive. From above, the ruins stretched out like the bones of some ancient beast, endless and silent under the fractured moonlight.
Lizzy’s laughter echoed, bright against the stillness. “Okay, okay, this is actually awesome. Totally worth the curfew breach. Ten out of ten, would sneak out again.”
Doll, despite her nerves, couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe this search wasn’t going to end in nothing.
And Echo, wings cutting through the night, grinned to himself. Disaster lesbians in tow, a mystery to unravel, and a new arc about to kick off? Yeah. This was going to be fun.
The Spire of Corpses was quiet this morning. Too quiet, if you asked Tessa.
The landing pod sat awkwardly perched against one of the jutting ledges, its exterior marked up from too many reckless reentries. Inside, it had been converted into something that was halfway between a war room and a teenager’s messy bedroom. Piles of discarded snack wrappers were stacked like defeated foes on one corner of the control console. In the other, a folded blanket marked where Tessa had decided the floor was “good enough” for sleeping.
But most of her energy was poured into the sprawling mess of blueprints plastered across the walls, floor, and ceiling. Pages of schematics, Ron’s old copy of the bunker layout, and notes scribbled in Sharpie covered every available surface. Certain sections had been circled so many times the pen had torn straight through the paper.
Tessa crouched in the middle of the chaos, tail curled around her ankles, tapping a claw against the seventh circled route. “No good,” she muttered. “Guarded. Heavily. Again.”
Her voice dripped with frustration. She flicked the paper away, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the corner with the rest of her failures.
“Seven openings. Seven failures. At this point, I’d almost rather tunnel in.”
Of course, V had her own suggestion.
“Or,” V had said earlier that day, lounging upside down across a ledge like some reptilian gargoyle, “we could just storm the front gates. Bite a few heads off. Problem solved.”
Tessa had pinched the bridge of her nose so hard she nearly gouged her own scales. “No, V. That’s exactly the kind of thing that will get the Defense Force to really start hunting you. We can’t make this worse.”
And yet, as she sat there, claw tapping against the useless blueprint, she found herself tempted. Maybe it would be easier to tear the whole place down and scoop up what was hers.
Not what, she corrected herself. Who.
Because no matter how much the bunker humans tried to act like they were protecting their fragile society from “dangerous wyvern influences,” they had no right to cut her off from the people she cared about. No right to take away her evenings of flying with Ron. No right to strip N of the little scraps of happiness he’d managed to claw back for himself.
She growled under her breath. “I’ll find a way. I will.”
A knock at the pod hatch snapped her from her thoughts.
Her head shot up, fangs flaring instinctively, ready to snap at whoever thought it was a good idea to disturb her scheming.
The hatch creaked, and she shoved it open with more force than necessary. Her glare softened—slightly—when she saw who it was.
Thad stood awkwardly on the ledge, shoulders hunched like a kid caught sneaking home after curfew. His neck and collarbone were painted with fresh, dark marks that practically screamed what he’d been doing before this. Behind him, V hovered with an entirely self-satisfied smirk, wings folded smugly as though she’d personally invented making out.
“Oh, for—” Tessa dragged a claw down her face. “Do you ever think about subtlety?”
“Subtlety?” V said, baring her teeth in something that could charitably be called a grin. “Never heard of her.”
Thad flushed, muttering something under his breath that Tessa didn’t bother to catch. What did catch her attention was the odd scrap of metal in his hand.
He held it like it mattered. And, considering how wary he was being, it probably did.
“This?” he said when he noticed her staring. “Oh, uh—it’s just something I’ve been using. Sunlight, you know. It’s… bad. For her.” He jerked a thumb at V.
V rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.
Tessa blinked, taken aback for a rare moment. Here was Thad—dumb jock, walking punchline, someone she had dismissed more times than she could count—actually making himself useful. Caring enough to drag around a makeshift shield just to keep V safe from stray sunbeams.
She was almost impressed. Almost.
“Well,” Tessa said, leaning against the hatch. “What do you want? I assume this isn’t a social call.”
Thad scratched the back of his neck, looking awkward again. “Actually, I came to check on Uzi. Her dad’s been… worried. Real worried. Nobody’s seen her in the bunker since, you know, the whole… banning thing.”
“Mm,” Tessa said, tapping her chin. “Haven’t seen much of her either. Or N.”
That wasn’t a lie. Since the Wyverns had been shoved out of the bunker, N had barely emerged from his little cave at the base of the spire. She told herself it was because he needed space, but deep down she was starting to worry too.
V snorted from behind Thad. “If you’re worried, just check the cave. Odds are those two are holed up in there, making moon eyes at each other.”
Tessa considered it. “…Fair point.”
Together, the unlikely group—one lovestruck jock, his dragonic girlfriend, and one increasingly irritated murder lizard—made their way through the winding shadows of the spire until they reached the little nook N had claimed as his own.
The cave was cozy, in the way only something carved out by obsessive claws could be. Plushies were stacked in teetering piles against the walls. Shiny bits of metal glimmered faintly in the low light, arranged in neat little hoards. A Rubik’s Cube sat atop a rock like a king on his throne, carefully preserved.
And in the middle of it all…
Uzi lay sprawled on her stomach, notebook open in front of her, pencil scratching lazily as she doodled new gun attachments. She looked… content. Relaxed. For once.
And then there was N.
The seven-foot, five-hundred-pound apex predator was curled up behind her, his massive frame draped protectively over her back half. His head was nestled squarely against her ass, cheek pillowed on her plush curves. His claws flexed in his sleep, kneading lightly against her like a cat working over its favorite blanket. His breath rumbled in a low, steady purr.
The sight was so absurd that Thad froze in the doorway. V’s eyes went wide. Then her grin split her face so fast it looked painful.
“Oh. My. God.”
Uzi jumped, nearly scribbling a line across her notebook. She whipped around, face blazing. “I—it’s not—it’s not what it looks like!”
V’s grin grew sharp enough to cut glass. “It looks like your boyfriend’s using your ass as a pillow.”
“It’s—shut up!” Uzi snapped, clutching at her notebook like it could shield her dignity. “He just—he fell asleep, okay? I didn’t want to wake him!”
N stirred faintly at the raised voices, claws flexing harder. His tail gave a lazy thump against the ground as he burrowed closer into his pillow. Uzi squeaked and slapped a hand over his snout, desperately trying to keep him asleep.
“Don’t you dare wake up now,” she hissed.
Thad, for his part, looked like he was caught between horror and awe. He coughed into his fist. “Uh… should we—maybe come back later?”
V practically doubled over laughing. “No, no, we’re staying. This is golden. I finally have blackmail material.”
“IT’S NOT BLACKMAIL MATERIAL!” Uzi shouted, mortified.
“Yes it is,” V said smugly. “You’re never living this down, Shortstack.”
Uzi groaned, burying her face in her hands. Meanwhile, N continued to sleep peacefully, oblivious to the chaos, making biscuits on her ass like the world’s deadliest housecat.
The silence that followed Uzi’s outburst could have been carved from stone.
In the doorway, Thad stared like he’d just witnessed an alien abduction. V leaned against the wall with all the smug satisfaction of a cat bringing home a dead bird as a gift. Tessa simply folded her arms, her expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and ‘I told you these kids needed supervision.’
Meanwhile, Uzi sat frozen on the makeshift bed, cheeks burning, wishing for a death beam to blast down from the heavens and put her out of her misery.
The worst part? N didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch. Didn’t stir. Didn’t so much as twitch an eyelid.
No—he just burrowed deeper against her ass like it was the softest pillow he’d ever owned, claws flexing in lazy rhythm. He made a low, content rumble in his throat—half purr, half sigh—that vibrated against her hips.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it—” Uzi hissed under her breath, desperately trying to shove her hand under his jaw to lift his head. But the guy weighed five hundred pounds, and his idea of “dead asleep” was basically “comatose until Ragnarok.”
Her efforts only made him let out another sleepy noise—this one high-pitched and distinctly puppy-like—as his claws scraped gently across her thighs.
V lost it.
“Oh my GOD,” she wheezed, sliding down the wall until she was practically rolling on the floor. “This is the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. Uzi, you absolute legend.”
“SHUT UP!” Uzi shrieked, her voice cracking. She threw a notebook at V’s head, which V caught effortlessly—still laughing so hard her chest rattled.
Thad cleared his throat like he was addressing a funeral. “So, uh. You’re… letting him just…?” He gestured vaguely at N, then at Uzi’s ass. “Do that?”
“I DIDN’T LET HIM!” Uzi barked, face redder than the emergency lights. “He just—he just—fell asleep! I wasn’t gonna wake him up, alright?!”
Tessa finally spoke, her voice dry. “You mean to tell me that he crawled onto you like that, started kneading, and you just let it happen?”
Uzi whipped her head toward her. “HE’S COMFORTABLE, OKAY?! I DIDN’T WANT TO RUIN IT!”
“You didn’t want to ruin it,” V gasped between wheezes, slapping her knee. “Uzi Doorman, ladies and gentlemen—the only girl in the apocalypse letting a dragon make biscuits on her ass because she doesn’t want to ‘ruin his nap.’”
Uzi screamed into her hands. “I HATE ALL OF YOU.”
N stirred faintly again at the rising volume. His snout twitched, nostrils flaring as if he’d caught a new scent. One claw flexed harder against Uzi’s leg, pinpricks of pressure warning just how sharp those talons were.
Uzi froze instantly, body rigid. “Don’t. You. Dare. Wake. Up,” she whispered, teeth clenched.
Of course, fate had no mercy.
Slowly, with all the ominous inevitability of a horror movie monster, N blinked one eye open. His pupil dilated sluggishly, focusing first on the stone floor… then on the cluster of figures standing in the doorway.
Then he tilted his head upward slightly, cheek still pillowed firmly against Uzi’s backside.
The eye widened.
“Uh,” N croaked, his voice groggy and slurred from sleep. “Good morning?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then V exploded into laughter so loud it echoed through the entire spire.
“Oh, this is perfect!” she howled, pounding her fist against the wall. “N, buddy, you’ve really outdone yourself. Forget murder machine—you’re the world’s deadliest simp!”
“I’M NOT—” N tried to push himself upright in a panic, but the motion only made it worse. Because instead of lifting cleanly away, his tail snagged in the back of Uzi’s hoodie, and he dragged her halfway with him.
She screeched, flailing her arms, her notebook scattering across the floor. “GET OFF ME, YOU GIANT LIZARD!”
“I’M TRYING!” N yelped, utterly mortified, fumbling with his claws to untangle himself.
Thad covered his mouth, shoulders shaking violently as he fought back laughter. “Oh my god, this is—this is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You too?!” Uzi shrieked.
“I didn’t even know this was possible,” Thad said weakly. “Like—like in all my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have pictured this.”
Tessa, somehow still composed, crouched beside the chaos and gently reached forward. With one practiced tug, she freed Uzi’s hoodie from N’s tail.
“There,” she said smoothly. “Problem solved.”
Except the “problem” was far from solved, because N—finally upright, wings hunched awkwardly—looked ready to implode. His tail lashed nervously against the ground, claws twitching at his sides. His gaze kept flicking anywhere but at Uzi, his ears folded tight against his skull.
“I—I didn’t mean to—” he stammered. “I was just—your—your back looked comfy, and I—”
“COMFY?!” Uzi screeched, her face so red it could’ve lit the cave without power.
“I mean—NOT like that! I mean—you’re warm, and I was tired, and—” He slapped his own snout with a claw, groaning. “Oh my god, kill me now.”
V was doubled over again, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Do you hear yourself, N? You sound like a dog trying to explain why it humped the couch.”
“I WASN’T—” N’s voice cracked, his ears flaring in pure embarrassment.
“PILLOWING ON HER BUTT LIKE IT’S A DELUXE TEMPUR-PEDIC—”
“STOP TALKING!” Uzi roared, grabbing the nearest plushie (a bedraggled-looking shark) and hurling it at V’s face.
V caught it one-handed and immediately tucked it under her arm. “Thanks, I’ll cherish this forever as the symbol of your shame.”
Uzi lunged for her, only to be snagged mid-air by N, who instinctively scooped her against his chest like a wayward kitten. “Don’t fight her,” he begged. “She’ll just… she’ll just make it worse.”
“She’s already made it worse!” Uzi snapped, squirming in his arms.
“Yeah, but she’s my squadmate,” N mumbled, sounding defeated. “It’s literally her job.”
“Oh, I am thriving,” V purred, baring every sharp tooth in a grin. “This is the best day of my life.”
Tessa finally sighed, rubbing her temples. “Alright, enough. If you’re done making this child cry from secondhand embarrassment, maybe we could actually talk about something useful?”
Uzi shoved herself free of N’s arms and scrambled back to her desk, crossing her arms in a furious huff. N wilted beside her, clearly torn between apologizing again and throwing himself off the nearest ledge.
V leaned back against the wall, still smirking. “Fine. But I’m never letting this go. Ever.”
Thad cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back toward sanity. “So, uh. We were actually here to check on you guys. Uzi, your dad’s been worried. And, y’know, everyone’s still tense about the… whole ‘banishment’ thing.”
The mention of Khan made Uzi’s glare soften—slightly. “…He’s worried?”
“Yeah,” Thad said. “Big-time. Keeps pacing the halls. Figured I’d sneak out, see if you’re alive, maybe drag you back to visit.”
Uzi snorted. “Yeah, like I’m setting foot in that bunker again.”
“You might have to,” Tessa said quietly, glancing at the blueprint rolled up under her arm. Her eyes flicked to N, who still looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “Sooner or later, something’s going to force the issue. And when it does, we need to be ready.”
For a moment, the weight of reality pressed down on the little cave. The laughter, the teasing, the embarrassment—it all felt distant compared to the bigger storm brewing on the horizon.
But then N, ever the awkward optimist, reached down and gently nudged Uzi’s hand with his claw.
“…Still sorry about the, um.” He coughed, unable to say the words. “The thing.”
Uzi groaned, dragging her hoodie over her head to hide her face. “…Don’t. Just—don’t.”
V smirked again. “Don’t worry. I’ll remember for her.”
The bunker had never been quiet. Even at its most still, the air carried the faint hum of recycled oxygen and the tick-tock of machinery too stubborn to ever truly die. But tonight, in the control hub where Sarah sat perched before her monitors, the bunker seemed to be holding its breath.
Every screen flickered with the dim outlines of soldiers preparing for deployment—helmets buckled, rifles checked, flares rattling in their belts. Their gear was a mismatched patchwork of scavenged tech: old colony rifles refurbished with jury-rigged parts, plating repurposed from debris, flashlights taped together with stubborn hope. A small army of duct tape and paranoia.
Sarah leaned forward, her fingers steepled under her chin. She’d argued for this mission. Fought for it, really. The Wyverns had been the obvious scapegoats, but Sarah knew better. She didn’t believe in monsters… at least, not obvious ones with wings and claws. Monsters, she’d learned, were subtler. They looked like accidents on security logs. They whispered in the dark spaces of camera blind spots. They laughed when no one else was around.
And if the Defense Force couldn’t find proof that something else was lurking in the corridors—something not Wyvern-shaped—then the bans, the curfews, the paranoia would all come crashing back on her shoulders.
“Move in,” she said into the mic, her voice crisp, clipped, professional.
On the screen, the squad obeyed, their boots clanging against steel grates as they moved toward the sealed wing of the bunker. The corridor beyond them sloped downward, narrowing toward the evacuation chamber.
That’s when the door slammed open behind her.
“What the fuck is this?” Khan’s voice was a blunt instrument, swinging across the room.
Sarah didn’t flinch. She kept her gaze on the monitors, though she could see his reflection in the glass—broad-shouldered, jaw set hard enough to break teeth.
“An investigation,” she replied coolly. “One your people were more than ready to conduct.”
Khan stomped closer, his boots thudding like war drums. “You don’t authorize missions. I do. You don’t order my people around like they’re your little projects. And you sure as hell don’t send them into the dark without my clearance.”
Behind him, Ron slipped in like a shadow. He looked tired, as always—rumpled clothes, weary eyes—but there was a quiet sharpness there too, like a blade that had spent years in its sheath.
“Sarah,” Ron started, but she cut him off with a raised hand.
“Remove him,” she snapped to the nearest officer, pointing at Ron without even glancing at him.
Two guards moved in, but Khan was faster. His arm swung out, blocking their path. “No. He stays.” His glare cut into Sarah like a knife. “If you think I’m letting you sideline him because you’re scared he’ll disagree with you, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Sarah’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Both of you have personal connections to the Wyverns. You’re compromised. You can’t be trusted to make an unbiased call.”
Ron finally spoke up, his voice quiet but steady. “Unbiased doesn’t mean blind. And right now, that’s exactly what you’re asking your people to walk into. Blind darkness.”
Sarah ignored him, focusing instead on the monitors. The squad had reached the evacuation chamber. The door slid open with a reluctant groan, revealing a yawning blackness that swallowed the flashlight beams whole.
The maintenance crews hadn’t lied—it was nearly pitch black in there. Streaks of condensation clung to the walls, like the chamber itself had been sweating.
“Proceed,” Sarah ordered.
One soldier flicked on a flare and lobbed it into the dark. The red light fizzled across the floor, casting jagged shadows. Metal crates loomed like coffins. The flare’s glow died before it could reveal the far side of the room.
And then—
“Wait.” Ron’s voice cut through the room. His hand shot out, pointing at the central monitor. “There.”
The squad’s cameras shook as one soldier lowered his beam toward the ground.
At first, it looked like trash. Just a scrap of something pale against the dark floor. But then the fingers twitched. Curled. Straightened again.
A hand.
No body attached.
It was walking.
The digits splayed wide, gripping the floor, dragging the thing forward like a grotesque spider.
“What the…” one soldier muttered, his voice cracking through the comms.
Another beam of light caught the wrist.
That’s when they saw it.
Not bone. Not clean flesh. But a thick, wet cord trailing from the severed wrist—some kind of tendon stretched impossibly long into the shadows.
The hand jerked forward, quick as a rat, and latched onto a soldier’s boot.
The man screamed, stumbling back, trying to shake it off. The cord pulsed like a vein, dragging taut.
“Flare, flare, flare!” another shouted.
The second flare went up, bouncing light off the high ceiling, cutting the dark in jagged strokes.
For a heartbeat, they saw it.
Something enormous, hunched against the far wall. Its body was plated in chitinous segments that gleamed wet under the red flare-light. The cord stretched back into its mass like an umbilical cord feeding into a parent body.
The flare sputtered, and the shadows closed in again.
Gunfire erupted. Muzzle flashes lit the room in strobing bursts.
On the monitors, Sarah, Khan, and Ron watched as chaos devoured the squad.
One soldier was yanked into the dark, boots skidding across the floor as he fired wildly into nothing. His screams cut out like someone had flipped a switch.
Another was impaled mid-charge—a tendril punching clean through his skull. The camera feed jolted, showing a ceiling of pipes and metal before the soldier collapsed.
But the tendril didn’t retract. It kept pushing. Bursting out the back of the man’s head, the tip splitting open like a grotesque flower. The hooked ends curled outward and then snapped shut, latching onto the skull like a grappling hook. With a violent jerk, the body was dragged back into the dark, leaving a smear of blood that shone wetly under the dying flare.
One of the surviving soldiers dropped his rifle, fumbling for another flare with trembling hands. It hissed to life, casting just enough glow to catch the glistening surface of another tendril slithering across the wall like a massive worm.
He didn’t even have time to scream before it coiled around his waist and squeezed. The crunch of his ribs echoed through the comms. A spray of blood misted the air as his torso caved, and then he was yanked upward, disappearing into the rafters.
On the monitors, the feeds blinked out one by one, static eating the images.
The control hub was silent.
Sarah’s face was pale in the monitor glow, her composure cracking for the first time. Her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
Ron swallowed hard. “That wasn’t a Wyvern.”
Khan turned slowly toward her, his voice low and dangerous. “You sent them in there without authorization. You also suspected there was something else in this bunker, didn’t you?”
Sarah said nothing.
Ron leaned forward, his knuckles white against the console. “Whatever that thing is, it just slaughtered an entire squad like they were nothing. The Defense Force can’t handle it. And you know it.”
Khan’s eyes didn’t leave the dark monitors, but his words were final. “We need the Wyverns.”