Chapter Text
The living room buzzed with the low light from the TV, which was doing that thing where the screen just looped trailers and ambient background noise because she hadn’t picked anything yet. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the recessed lighting in the ghostly little lines across the marble floors. The room looked like one of those houses you scroll past on luxury estate sites when you’re sad. Everything pristine. Uncluttered. Clinical.
Everything except for her.
Draped over the couch like she’d been dropped from a second story window. Socks half on. Hoodie sleeves stretched over her hands. Hair still kinda damp from the totally unnecessary second shower. Jillian Salvius’s taste in interior design was all matte black and glass—very “if NASA made a day spa”—and Ava Silva was the smudge no one planned for.
The couch cushion beneath her was too firm, designed more for architectural magazine spreads than actual human comfort. She shifted, trying to make a dent in the perfect geometric lines. A small rebellion. Jillian’s decorating choices were always about function meeting aesthetic—sleek chrome coffee tables that looked like they belonged in a space station, abstract art that probably cost more than her son’s college education, and lighting that adjusted automatically based on the time of day. The villa was a testament to calculated precision.
Ava wiggled her toes in her mismatched socks—one black, one with tine avocados that Beatrice had given her as a joke last Christmas. The memory sent a flutter through her stomach that she immediately tried to squash.
Downstairs something mechanical whirred to life. The sound vibrated through the floor and up into her bones. Jillian was working on… something. Probably solving the future. Maybe rewriting it. The basement lab was off-limits unless explicitly invited—a rule Ava had broken exactly seven times, each instance meticulously documented in Jillian’s security logs with timestamp and screenshots of Ava’s “totally innocent” face.
The basement door stood at the far end of the hall, a sleek, reinforced panel with a biometric scanner that required Jillian’s palm, retina, and occasionally a voice command if she was feeling particularly paranoid that day. Every time Ava passed it, she half-expected it to hiss open with dry ice and fog lights. Michael always rolled his eyes when she made sci-fi references about it, but he wasn’t exactly wrong about their mother’s flair for the dramatic.
Her phone buzzed again against her thigh.
Ava’s heart did a stupid little jump before she even checked the screen.
[4:36 PM] Beatrice: 5 minutes away. Traffic was better than expected.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. Should she say " cool " or " awesome " or " can't wait "? No, " can't wait " was too eager. " Cool " was too dismissive. God, when had texting become so complicated?
[4:37 PM] Ava: 👍
She tossed her phone aside with a sigh and sprinted to the bathroom, checking her reflection for the millionth time. Same face. Same hair. Same everything as five minutes ago, except now with added anxiety sweat. Great .
The distant hum of machinery from the basement grew louder, a constant reminder that Jillian’s world operated on a different level than her own. Down there was precision, innovation, breakthroughs. Up here was just Ava, trying not to have a meltdown over a movie night.
Her eyes flicked toward the time as she re-entered the living room, then back to the TV screen, not really seeing it.
Any minute now.
Just as she decided to restart her quest for the perfect movie, the doorbell rang.
Ava’s heart did another of those weird little flinch-lurch things, like it was trying to escape her ribcage and fall out onto the floor. She froze, remote clutched in her suddenly sweaty palm while a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she could stop it. She pressed her lips together, trying to smother the reaction, but it lingered anyway, warm and stubborn. She stood too fast, the blood rushing from her head and making her vision swim for a second. She stretched, arms over her head, spine cracking in three satisfying pops. Her hoodie rode up, exposing a strip of skin to the cool air. She yanked it back down, suddenly self-conscious.
Her hands fluttered uselessly for a moment—should she fix her hair? Smooth the couch cushions? Pretend she hadn’t been waiting here for the past hour?
Halfway to the door, the distant mechanical hum from the basement changed pitch. Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy, measured. Unmistakable.
Shit. Jillian.
Ava’s stomach dropped. She might’ve—possibly, maybe, definitely—forgotten to mention Beatrice was coming over.
Oops.
The reinforced door hissed open behind her just as she reached for the front one. The sound of hydraulics releasing, a soft pneumatic whoosh that always made Ava think of airlocks in space movies. She fumbled with the handle, suddenly all thumbs, hyper-aware of Jillian’s presence at her back.
Ava swung the door open and—
“Hello, Ava,” Beatrice greeted, voice soft and measured, as always.
Yep—there it was. That smile. The one that started at the corners of her mouth and worked its way up to her eyes in careful increments. Controlled. Deliberate. Like she was rationing out joy in only small doses. It was the smile Beatrice wore like armor that somehow still felt personal. Warm. Devastating.
Ava’s fingers tightened on the doorknob, knuckles going white. Her body swayed slightly forward, drawn by some invisible gravity that seemed to exist only in Beatrice’s orbit. Heat crawled up her neck, blooming across her cheeks.
God, she was so obvious. She needed a shovel for all this subtlety.
“Hey,” she managed, stepping aside. The word came out breathier than intended. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Hey. Come in.”
Beatrice slipped off her shows, each movement efficient and graceful. She hung her coat on the rack by the door like she’d done it a dozen times before. Like this was normal. Like this was her house too.
And Ava? She stood there, trying not to stare, not to melt into the tiles beneath her feet.
There was something about the way Beatrice moved, like she belonged in every space without asking permission. Like the air bent a little to make room for her. She made the sleek, sterile villa feel less like a test lab and more like somewhere a person could breathe.
Ava's gaze lingered for a second too long, caught on how Beatrice's dark hair fell across her shoulder when she tilted her head, how the recessed lighting caught in her eyes. She blinked hard, dragging a hand over the back of her neck like she could rub the blush out of her skin.
"Beatrice? I didn't think we’d be seeing you tonight." Jillian's voice was pleasant, but when Ava glanced over, she caught the subtle arch of an eyebrow—directed at her.
Ava stiffened, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up her spine. That look. That knowing, calculating look that made her feel like Jillian had already run simulations of this exact scenario and was just waiting to see if reality matched her predictions.
"Sorry, I forgot to mention I wanted to have a movie night," Ava said, the words tumbling out too fast. She winced at her own transparency. "Hope that's okay?" She already knew Jillian wouldn't care about the company—just the lack of warning.
"Of course," Jillian said easily, though Ava didn't miss the flicker of curiosity in her eyes as she glanced between them. That scientist's gaze, cataloging data points.
Ava quickly stepped in before Jillian could say anything else—God knew what kind of comment she was about to make. "Anyway! We were just about to pick a movie." Her voice pitched higher than normal. She gestured toward the living room, the couch, the remote, the TV—anywhere but at Beatrice or Jillian. "I was thinking something classic, or maybe something terrible so we can make fun of it? I mean, I guess we could do action, or horror, but then we'd need more popcorn—oh, we should probably get snacks, right? Bea, what do you feel like?"
The nickname slipped out without permission. She'd been trying not to use it, worried it was too familiar, too revealing.
Beatrice's lips quirked slightly, the right corner lifting a fraction higher than the left—her real smile, not the measured one she showed everyone else. For a brief second, Ava felt caught in place, lungs forgetting how to work. Her pulse kicked up, warmth spreading through her chest like spilled honey.
She barely stopped herself from staring, her mind scrambling for something—anything—to keep the moment going, but the sharp chime of the doorbell cut her off.
She blinked, irritation flickering in her chest before she sighed and shook it off. "Uh, hold that thought."
As Ava turned to answer the door, Jillian cut in. "Actually, this works out perfectly." Her gaze flicked between Ava and Beatrice, something unreadable in her expression before she turned fully to Beatrice. "I could use your input on something downstairs. It won't take long."
Beatrice hesitated for half a second before nodding, offering Ava a small, almost apologetic smile. Ava told herself she imagined it. No way Beatrice was actually sorry to go. She was just being polite. That's what this was. Definitely. Still, Ava's stomach twisted slightly, and she hated how much she wanted to believe otherwise.
Jillian didn't wait for an answer before turning on her heel, already making her way toward the basement.
Beatrice hesitated again only briefly before following, her fingertips brushing Ava's arm as she passed—so light it could have been accidental—but the contact sent electricity racing up Ava's spine, left her skin tingling even after Beatrice moved away.
Ava's shoulders slumped, her excitement deflating like a punctured balloon. She forced herself to exhale slowly, schooling her expression into something neutral. No big deal . Not like she cared. Not like she had been looking forward to this all day or anything. She stuffed her hands into her hoodie pocket, rocking back on her heels.
They left Ava to answer the door, alone with the ghost of Beatrice's touch still burning on her arm. She pulled it open, expecting maybe a delivery—only to find Mary, Camila, and Lilith standing on the other side instead.
"Uh... hi?" The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Mary raised a brow, pushing past her without waiting for an invitation. "What took you so long?" Her leather jacket brushed against Ava's arm as she moved into the foyer.
Ava frowned, the door still half-open in her hand. She'd literally answered it the second after the bell rang. "I didn't—"
Camila bounced in next, her smile bright enough to power a small city. "Hey, Ava!" She wiggled her fingers in a wave, her bracelets jingling softly with the movement.
Lilith entered last, giving Ava a slow once-over that felt like being scanned by airport security. "You look annoyed."
"I'm fine," Ava scoffed, shutting the door with maybe a bit more force than necessary. The soft thud echoed through the entryway. Great . Now instead of awkwardly watching a movie with Beatrice, she had three more people to deal with. Three people who were already making themselves at home without so much as a "can we come in?"
Camila made an immediate beeline for the kitchen, her floral-patterned sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished floor. Ava followed, watching as Camila navigated the space like she'd been there so many times before—which she had, but still. The kitchen gleamed under the recessed lighting, all sleek surfaces and hidden appliances. During the day, the floor-to-ceiling windows made the space feel open and airy, but at night, the warm terracotta tiles and dark wood accents gave it a cozy vibe that contrasted with the otherwise sterile aesthetic. The only sign that actual humans used this room was a forgotten coffee mug sitting on the counter, half-full with whatever experimental blend Jillian had been drinking that morning.
"Since we're apparently hanging out here now, might as well grab something to drink," Camila called over her shoulder, already opening the refrigerator door. The soft whoosh of cold air hit Ava's face as she approached.
Mary smirked, following them into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. She crossed her arms, the silver rings on her fingers catching the light. "Yeah, Ava, you're a terrible host. Seriously, you didn't even offer us drinks?"
"Fine." Ava huffed, moving to the cabinet and grabbing glasses. The cool, smooth surface felt grounding against her fingertips. "Water? Soda? Something stronger?" She set the glasses on the counter with a series of small clinks.
"Soda," Mary said easily, still wearing that irritating smirk.
"Water's fine," Lilith added, her tone clipped as she took a seat at the island.
Ava grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, the aluminum cold against her palm, and poured it for Mary. The fizz hissed as it hit the glass. She filled another with water from the dispenser for Lilith, tiny droplets splashing onto her hand. "You're welcome," she muttered, sliding the drinks across the counter.
Camila was still digging through the fridge like she was searching for buried treasure, the light from inside casting her face in a soft glow. "Ooh, is this homemade kombucha? Can I try it?"
"It's Jillian's weird fermented science experiment. Drink at your own risk," Ava warned, leaning against the counter.
"So," Mary started, taking a sip of her soda. The ice cubes clinked against the glass. "Movie night, huh?"
Ava frowned, a prickle of suspicion running up her spine. "How do you—" She shook her head, her hair brushing against her shoulders. "Yeah. Was supposed to be. Why are you guys here?"
Camila plopped down at the table with her chosen drink, crossing her legs underneath her. "Bea and Lilith had a study session, remember? But Bea cancelled. So, we figured she was here."
The explanation hung in the air for a moment. Ava narrowed her eyes, mentally replaying what Camila had just said. Something didn't add up. "Wait—if it was a study session for Bea and Lilith, why are you two here?" She pointed between Mary and Camila, her finger moving back and forth. "And why would you just assume she was at my house?"
Lilith snorted, leaning back in her chair. The wood creaked slightly under the shift in weight. "For the record, we assumed Beatrice was here because, let's be real, where else would she be? And as for these two, well—Camila wanted an excuse to get out of work, and Mary's just nosy."
"Excuse you," Mary placed a hand over her chest, her expression mockingly offended. "I am a concerned friend. This is me expressing concern." Her lips quirked up. "Also, I figured whatever Jillian was up to would be more entertaining than listening to Lilith drill Beatrice on equations for two hours."
Ava's suspicion only grew. Mary's answer came too quick, too rehearsed. And Camila was grinning like she'd just won a prize at a carnival game. The whole situation felt off, like walking into a room where all the furniture had been moved two inches to the left. Not obviously wrong, but definitely not right.
"Okay..." Ava drew out the word, crossing her arms over her chest. The soft fabric of her hoodie bunched under her fingers. "But that still doesn't explain why you're all here instead of just texting her?"
"Because showing up unannounced is more effective than waiting for her to ignore a text," Lilith replied, her tone matter-of-fact.
Camila's grin widened. "Plus, this way we get to bother you too. Win-win."
"Besides," Mary added, her dark eyes fixed on Ava's face like she was looking for something specific, "we figured you'd know where she was." She exchanged a quick glance with Camila, who was practically vibrating with barely contained laughter.
The kitchen suddenly felt warmer. Ava rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the short hairs there. "She's—uh, downstairs. With Jillian."
Mary rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. "Right. Well, since we're here, might as well wait for Bea to resurface. Unless you plan on rescuing her?"
"I mean, if she's down there with Jillian, we could be waiting a while," Camila said, stretching her arms above her head. "Might as well get comfortable."
Ava's fingers drummed against the counter, creating a soft, rhythmic tapping. "So, what, you guys are just going to sit here until she comes back?"
Lilith shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling under her crisp button-up. "Unless you have a better idea."
Ava glanced toward the basement door, imagining what Beatrice and Jillian might be doing down there. Probably something with numbers and charts that would make her brain hurt. "She got recruited for whatever experiment Jillian's working on. It was supposed to be quick." She hesitated, realizing how that sounded. "Not that I was, like, waiting or anything. Just saying." She looked back at the basement door again, the sleek panel seeming to mock her. "Which, obviously, it's not."
Camila tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you just let them nerd out without you? I'm shocked." Her smirk widened slightly. "Or were you too busy pouting up here, wishing she'd stayed with you instead?"
Heat crept up Ava's neck. She took a sudden interest in her own glass of water, watching the way the light refracted through it. "I wasn't pouting. I just didn't feel like getting in the way of their science talk."
"Mmhmm," Camila hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Sure, that's all it was."
Mary snorted, the sound sharp and knowing. "Right. And I hate tequila."
Lilith, who had been silently watching the exchange like a tennis match, finally rolled her eyes. The gesture was so dramatic Ava could practically hear it. "This is painful." She exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the kitchen. "Just admit it already."
"Admit what?" Ava glared, her fingers tightening around her glass. "That you all have officially lost your minds?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the marble floor cool through her socks. "Because that's the only thing happening here. You guys are being weird. Weirder than usual." She looked between them, searching. "Is someone gonna clue me in, or are we just gonna sit here being vague?"
Lilith exhaled again, shaking her head. Her earrings caught the light, sending tiny reflections dancing across the counter. "You really don't get it, do you?" She exchanged glances with Mary and Camila, a silent conversation happening over Ava's head.
"Nothin’," Mary said, her voice dripping with amusement as she took another sip.
Camila pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. "Don't worry about it, Aves."
Even Lilith looked like she was holding back a comment, her eyebrows raised in a way that made Ava feel like she was missing something obvious.
The suspicion in Ava's gut solidified into certainty. They knew something. Something about her. Something about Beatrice. Something about...
Oh.
Oh no.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. Her cheeks burned hot, and she suddenly became very interested in the condensation forming on the outside of her waterglass. Little droplets sliding down, pooling at the bottom. Fascinating stuff, really. Much more interesting than the three sets of eyes currently drilling holes into her skull.
Camila leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “So, what were you two gonna watch anyway? Something romantic?” Her voice lilted upward on the last word, dripping with suggestion.
“No,” Ava shot back, the word flying out of her mouth before her brain could catch up. “Just—something. I hadn’t picked yet.” Her fingers tightened around the glass, the cool surface slick against her palm.
Mary’s smirk widened, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Right. Because you definitely weren’t overthinking it.” She took another sip of her soda, the ice cubes clinking against the glass in what sounded suspiciously like judgement.
Ava spotted an open bag of chips on the counter—Jillian’s weird kale ones that tasted like punishment—and grabbed one, flinging it at Mary. It hit her square in the chest before falling pathetically to the floor. “I hate you.”
The chip lay there, a sad little green casualty in her war against Mary’s knowing smirk. Great. Now she’d have to clean that up later.
Lilith sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. She pressed her fingers against her temple, like their conversation was physically painful to endure. Her gaze flicked from Mary’s smug face to Camila’s barely contained giggling, then landed on Ava with an expression that screamed ‘I am surrounded by children’. “Can we just go get Beatrice so we can end this ridiculous conversation?”
Ava rolled her eyes, but her heart kicked up a notch at the suggestion. She could stay put. Act unbothered. Pretend she wasn’t dying to see Beatrice again, even though they’d only been apart for—she glanced at the clock on the microwave—forty-three minutes. Not that she was counting.
But the way Camila wiggled her eyebrows at her, and the way Mary’s smirk had evolved into a full-blown grin of triumph, told her she wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all herself.
“You know what? Fine.” She pushed herself away from the counter, the movement more aggressive than necessary. Her socked feet slid slightly on the polished floor, nearly undermining her dramatic stance. “If you’re all so desperate to interrupt whatever science experiment they’re doing down there, be my guest.”
She huffed, shaking her head before turning on her heel and heading toward the basement. She didn’t look back to see if they were following—the soft padding of feet behind her was answer enough. Each step toward the basement door felt like an admission she wasn’t ready to make.
The sleek, reinforced door loomed ahead, its biometric scanner blinking patiently. Ava pressed her palm against the cool panel, feeling the subtle vibration as it read her prints. The door accepted her print without protest. Ava paused. Had Jillian forgotten to revoke her access, or… had she meant for her to come? A soft beep, and then the door slid open with that sci-fi hiss she'd always secretly loved—not that she'd ever admit it to Jillian.
Cool air rushed up to meet them, carrying the sterile scent of metal and that faint electric smell that always hung around Jillian's lab. The temperature dropped with each step down the stairs, raising goosebumps along Ava's arms beneath her hoodie. The low, persistent hum of machinery vibrated through the walls and up through the soles of her feet, a mechanical heartbeat pulsing through the entire space.
Voices drifted up from below, growing clearer as they descended. Status lights flickered across multiple monitors, casting shifting patterns of blue and green against the metallic surfaces. The lab was exactly what you'd expect from Jillian—sleek, high-end design interrupted by tangled wires and half-assembled devices. Order and chaos living side by side, much like Jillian herself.
And then, cutting through it all, Beatrice's voice—low and steady, each word wrapped in that careful precision of hers, like she never said anything without measuring it first. It was the voice of someone trained to be in control, someone who thought before speaking—except, maybe, in moments like this, when she was lost in something that actually excited her.
"The neural pathways would need to account for muscle memory versus conscious decision-making," Beatrice was saying as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Otherwise, the simulation would lag behind real combat responses."
At the center of the lab, Jillian stood before a massive display, nodding along as Beatrice spoke. And Beatrice—Beatrice was smiling, her eyes bright with interest in a way that made something twist in Ava's chest. She looked... happy. Engaged. Completely absorbed in whatever nerdy conversation they were having.
Which was fine. Great, even. Ava wanted Beatrice to be happy. She just would have preferred if that happiness was happening upstairs, on the couch, with her.
Ava let out an exasperated sigh, tilting her head back as if searching the ceiling for patience. "See?" she muttered to no one in particular. "Hopeless."
"Oh, come on, you act like they're building a death ray or something," Mary said, coming up beside her. She stuffed her hands into her pockets, surveying the lab with mild disinterest.
"I mean, look at all this!" Camila countered, her voice rising with excitement as she pushed past Ava toward the nearest workstation. Her eyes were practically sparkling as she took in the equipment. "This is amazing. Is this about that VR project you mentioned? The hyper-immersion one? The one where the system maps real sensory input instead of just simulating it?"
Jillian looked up from her console at last, her expression shifting from mild annoyance at the interruption to something more approving as she registered Camila's question. She always had a soft spot for enthusiasm—especially when it came from someone who actually understood what she was working on.
"Exactly," Jillian said, straightening up. "The goal isn't just visual and auditory realism—it's full neural integration. The system captures physical responses, translates them into the simulation, and feeds back real-time stimulus to the user. Ideally, it should feel indistinguishable from reality."
Camila leaned in closer, letting out an impressed whistle as she examined the console. Her fingers hovered just above the edge, not quite touching but clearly itching to. "That explains the brainwave charts. But how do you stop the body from reacting physically? Wouldn't someone's actual muscles tense if their brain thinks they're dodging an attack?"
"Oh great, we've lost her too," Lilith deadpanned from just behind Ava.
Jillian's lips curved into a knowing smirk, like she'd anticipated this exact turn in the conversation. "Which is why I asked Beatrice for input." Her tone was casual, but there was calculation behind it—like she already knew the answer before Beatrice even gave it. "Physical training, combat instincts—her feedback helps determine how well the system accounts for real-world reactions. If the delay between thought and action is even slightly off, it breaks the immersion.
Beatrice glanced up at them then, taking a moment to assess the situation. Her eyes flickered from Ava to the others, her expression unreadable at first—mild curiosity, maybe even the slightest hint of disapproval—before her smile shifted into something more amused. "I take it this isn't a coincidence?" Her gaze lingered on Ava for half a second before moving to Camila, who was already eyeing the schematics with undisguised excitement.
Lilith crossed her arms, raising a brow as she shot Beatrice a pointed look. "Didn't realize you were skipping out on our study session. Guess we weren't stimulating enough for you?"
Beatrice blinked, looking momentarily guilty. "I—I was—" She glanced at Ava, then back to Lilith. "Ava asked me to watch a movie with her, and then Jillian asked for my help, and I lost track of time."
"Mmhmm," Mary hummed, smirking. "And you conveniently forgot to mention any of that."
"It's not like that," Beatrice insisted, but Ava was already stepping in.
"Yeah, well, someone's gotta rescue you from nerd jail," she said, gesturing toward Camila, who was now fully immersed in whatever Jillian was explaining. "But if Camila's already defected, we might be doomed."
Beatrice huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. "I wouldn't call it jail. It's fascinating work."
Jillian, still focused on her console, smirked slightly without looking up. "I see no one here against their will." She gestured toward the displays. "In fact, I'd say some of you are exactly where you want to be."
Lilith scoffed, arms still crossed as she leaned against a nearby counter. "I've sparred against plenty of fighters who were unpredictable as hell," she said, tilting her head toward the screen. "Someone who relies on instinct instead of technique can be harder to read. If your system is just mapping trained responses, what happens when someone does something completely irrational?"
Mary nudged Ava's shoulder, leaning in close enough that her breath tickled Ava's ear. "Face it, you're outnumbered." She lowered her voice just enough that only Ava could hear. "And let's be real, you wouldn't want her attention anywhere else anyway." She shot a glance toward Beatrice, then back at Ava, smirking wider. "Not that you're complaining. I mean, if you wanted alone time with her, you could've just said so."
Ava rolled her eyes but didn't argue. What was the point? Mary wasn't wrong—not that Ava would ever admit that out loud. Instead, she dragged herself over to the nearest table and slumped against it, fingers tapping idly against the cool metal surface. She recrossed her arms, trying to look as bored as possible while her gaze kept drifting to Beatrice. The way her expression softened with interest, the slight crease between her eyebrows when she concentrated, how she nodded so attentively at whatever scientific gibberish Jillian was saying. The way her fingers traced along schematics with such delicate precision, like she was memorizing every line.
God, she’s so cute.
Not the point. The point was that they were supposed to be watching movies upstairs, not geeking out over tech that would probably become sentient and murder them all in their sleep. Ava sighed, scuffing the tip of her shoe against the smooth concrete floor. The faint scrape barely registered over the quiet hum of machinery.
It wasn't just impatience prickling under her skin—it was something else, something that felt suspiciously like jealousy, which was ridiculous. Jealous of what? Science? Jillian? The stupid computer that was getting more of Beatrice's attention than she was?
Why did it even bother her this much?
Beatrice looked happy down here, engaged in something that clearly interested her. It was a rare sight—Ava didn't see it often outside of sparring sessions or those quiet moments when Beatrice let herself get lost in a good book. There was a looseness to her posture now, a brightness in her eyes that made Ava's stomach twist in knots.
She should've been glad Beatrice was enjoying herself. And she was. Mostly.
"The response delay is minimal," Beatrice noted, tapping at one of the schematics. Her voice had that focused quality it got when she was solving a puzzle. "But what about reaction instinct? If someone isn't trained for high-pressure scenarios, their responses might be slower than reality."
That was good, right? That Beatrice was happy?
Ava told herself it was.
Mary, still leaning against the counter, scrolled idly through her phone, her thumb moving lazily over the screen. Every so often, her lips would quirk up into a smirk—either at something on her phone or at the conversation happening around her. Impossible to tell which.
"If y'all get yourselves trapped in the Matrix, I'm not saving you," Mary said, glancing up briefly before returning to her screen, completely unbothered by the increasingly intense conversation around her.
Lilith, arms crossed, was watching the screens with that critical gaze she usually reserved for evaluating opponents before a match. She shifted her weight, stance adjusting automatically. "I've seen enough training simulations to know that predicting movement is never foolproof," she said. "What happens when someone stops thinking and just reacts? Or when they throw out technique entirely and rely on instinct?"
Beatrice paused, considering Lilith's point. The slight tilt of her head made a strand of hair fall across her cheek, and Ava's fingers twitched with the urge to brush it back. "That's a good point," Beatrice said. "Training builds automatic responses, but real combat is unpredictable. Stress reactions can override practiced techniques. Someone panicking won't move the same way as someone in control. How does the system account for that?"
Jillian nodded, unfazed by the challenge. She adjusted a few parameters on the console, double-checking the data like she'd already anticipated the question. Every movement was deliberate, precise—this wasn't guesswork, it was control. "Which is exactly why this system has adaptive modeling. It learns from user behavior, adjusts predictions in real-time. The more it's used, the better it understands how an individual reacts under different conditions."
Camila let out an impressed laugh. "So it basically gets smarter the more you fight? That's insane. Like next-level enemy AI in a Souls game, but with real-time learning." Her eyes widened. "You realize if this tech gets into the wrong hands, you've just made the world's most terrifying AI sparring partner, right?"
"Which is why it's still in testing," Jillian replied smoothly.
Ava barely held back an eye-roll. Fantastic. Now even Lilith was engaged. Just what she needed—another person fully invested in Jillian's nerd fest while she stood here, the sole representative of Team 'Let's Not Get Sucked Into a Sci-Fi Nightmare'. She shifted her weight again, exhaling sharply.
"So, what I'm hearing is... we could be upstairs watching something fun, but instead, we're here letting Jillian build Skynet?"
Jillian smirked. "If I were building Skynet, you'd know."
Slowly, Mary looked up, exchanging a glance with Lilith that clearly said this is going to end badly, isn't it? Lilith, ever the realist, just exhaled sharply, as if already bracing for the inevitable disaster.
"This is how people end up in horror stories," Lilith muttered, unimpressed, she then turned to look back at Jillian. "Would we though?"
A beat of silence.
Jillian only smirked wider.
She turned back to her console, fingers hovering over the keyboard for a second longer than necessary before typing in a series of commands. A faint beep echoed from one of the workstations as a progress bar flickered to life on the nearest screen, its glowing text filled with complex calculations and neural mapping data. Satisfied, she finally stepped away, casting a last glance at the monitor before heading toward the storage room.
"I need to grab a recalibration module from storage," she said, already moving toward a side door. "The system's predictive modeling is still running on the previous iteration, and I want to update it with the latest combat input before we run another test."
Ava groaned, slumping further like the sheer weight of the collective nerdiness in the room was physically crushing her. Her shoulders sagged against the metal table behind her, the cool surface seeping through her hoodie.
As Jillian disappeared through the storage door, the automated lighting in the lab adjusted subtly, dimming slightly in her absence. Ava let her gaze wander over the various screens, pretending to be interested for about three seconds before boredom fully set in. The steady rhythm of machines processing data, the quiet hum of cooling fans—it all blended together into white noise that made her want to scream just to break the monotony.
Her fingers drummed against the table, creating tiny metallic echoes. Everyone else was too focused on the data, completely engrossed. Beatrice, Lilith, and Camila kept discussing the system's responsiveness, Mary was still texting, and Jillian was gone.
Ava shifted her weight, side-eyeing the others. If they were all busy, no one would notice if she just—investigated a little. Just to see. Just to pass the time. Definitely not because she was feeling ignored. Not like she was about to do something reckless. Just... mild curiosity.
Her eyes landed on the sleek console Jillian had been working at. She swore she could see a slight pulsing of light coming from the control panel, steady, like it was daring her to touch it. One harmless button. Probably nothing important.
Probably. It wasn't like pressing a button had ever killed her before... right?
She glanced at Beatrice, who was still deep in conversation, and inched closer to the console. No one was paying attention. Just one little tap.
She pressed it.
The hum of the lab stuttered, like a breath hitching before a drop. A low vibration pulsed through the floor, crawling up Ava's legs, and suddenly, the screen flooded with scrolling data—too fast, too much, like something had been waiting.
Ava's stomach dropped. "Uh—" was all she managed before the floor beneath her feet seemed to vanish. A blinding white light swallowed everything.
Then, nothing.