Content Warnings:

  SpoilerBody horror; male violence against women and sex workers.

  [colpse]3. Lights Go Out14 December, 2035There were no edges in Room Six. The dim purple haze smothered everything, blurring the walls, swallowing the corners, and making it impossible to tell where the room began or ended. It should have felt spacious - it wasn’t small - but Lucy had never felt more boxed in.

  The smell was worse. A thick, stale mix of smoke and sweat and cheap perfume, clinging to the stained couch that she and Kylie sat on.

  Lucy perched on the edge, ready to bolt. She kept her hands in her p, fingers working anxiously at one of her nails. Every few seconds, her gaze flicked to Brooke - standing ahead of her, arms crossed, every muscle in her face pulled tight. She wasn’t trying to mask her disdain.

  Behind her, the brute lingered - a silent sb of meat and threat. His fists rested against his stomach, clenched and idle, like he was waiting for an excuse.

  Lucy’s mind raced. There was no real proof. Everything Brooke had was circumstantial. That meant she could still get out of this.

  She gnced sideways. Kylie was shaking. Slight, barely perceptible tremors. Fear spiked in Lucy’s gut. She could handle herself - Brooke, the brute, the entire situation - but Kylie couldn’t be here. She had no part in this, no understanding of what was happening, and Lucy had dragged her into it anyway. That was the thought that made Lucy’s pulse hammer the hardest.

  Priority one: Get Kylie out alive. Everything else could burn.

  "Let’s just make this very simple," Brooke said, her voice slicing through the silence, thin and sharp as ice. "Where is it?"

  Lucy inhaled slowly. Pick a strategy. Commit to it.

  She met Brooke’s stare and let irritation settle into her features, sharpening her words into something brisk and clipped. Not afraid. Just annoyed.

  "Where’s what?" she said, voice ft. Snappy, not upset. You’re not scared. You’re mildly inconvenienced.

  Brooke’s jaw twitched. Beside her, the brute shifted his weight, gncing at her before flicking his gaze back to Lucy. A quick, silent exchange.

  That triggered something in Lucy. They’re holding back information. Why be so secretive over a crate of alcohol?

  Lucy wanted to prod until they gave something away, but before she could, Kylie was on her feet. "Listen, bitch."

  Lucy’s stomach lurched.

  Kylie squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up, ripping through the tension with effortless, unfiltered confidence. "I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you wanna come up here, you gotta pay. If you have an issue with my friend, tell the guards. We don’t do viginte bullshit here."

  Lucy barely heard the words. Her mind was already spiralling, calcuting, begging Kylie to sit down and not draw a target on herself. But even in the panic, Lucy felt it - a spark of something ridiculous and mispced. God, she was hot.

  The way she leapt to defend Lucy without hesitation, without fully understanding the situation, without a second thought... Yeah, she was hot.

  Brooke’s skin went red, her lips parting - but she didn’t move. She only sank, defting under Kylie’s rage. Lucy barely had time to process that before the brute stepped forward.

  Brooke barely reacted - she didn’t try to stop him. Lucy’s body tensed, but it happened too fast. A blur of movement. A whip-crack of sound.

  Kylie’s head snapped to the side, her body stumbling backwards, crashing into the couch. The booming sp echoed through the tiny room, loud and sickening.

  Lucy’s breath stopped.

  Kylie caught herself, one hand flying to her face, her body trembling from the force of the hit - but she didn’t cower. She didn’t shrink. She looked furious.

  The brute exhaled, slow and controlled, like he had just calmed himself down. "Stay out of this, whore." His voice was eerily smooth.

  Lucy shot to her feet so fast that both Brooke and the brute flinched, hands flying to their weapons.

  Guns. Small ones, but still - guns.

  Her knife was already in her grip, hidden at her side. It would do nothing against two guns. A part of her didn’t care. She could take at least one of them down before the other fired - maybe even get lucky, maybe kill them both - but Kylie was here. She couldn’t gamble with Kylie’s life.

  The thought cut through the heat of her rage like ice.

  Nobody moved.

  Lucy forced herself to sit, her muscles burning with restraint, her hands curling into fists as she dropped back onto the couch. Submission. She hated it.

  "For fuck’s sake, you prick, leave her alone," Brooke snapped, voice tight, sharp with frustration. "That’s not what we’re here for."

  The brute’s jaw twitched. He turned to her slowly, like a wolf deciding if the smaller animal in front of him was worth the effort. Lucy knew the type: he didn’t like being told what to do - especially by a woman younger and weaker than him. For a second, Lucy thought he’d hit Brooke, too.

  But, after a tense pause, he took a step back. Brooke’s relief was almost imperceptible, but Lucy saw it. She was afraid of him, too.

  "I’ll ask again," Lucy said, voice level. "Where’s what?"

  She could feel Kylie looking at her. Who is this Lucy?

  Brooke held her stare, watching for a crack in her composure. "A crate of alcohol was taken from Club Blue tonight," she said, slow and deliberate. "At the exact minute you appeared at the door, pulling me away from it."

  Kylie shifted beside her, the puzzle clicking into pce. That’s why Lucy had to leave. But she stayed silent, waiting to see how Lucy would py this. Meanwhile, Lucy’s mind was moving too fast. Something was wrong.

  She wanted to sm her head against the wall and force it to work faster. Because there was something missing - something important.

  Lucy exhaled slowly and leaned back, fixing Brooke with a carefully crafted look of sympathy. "I’m sorry to hear that," she said, just a little too patronising. She hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. She softened the next words, adding a yer of faux sincerity. "I didn’t mean to distract you. I was looking for work. That’s why I came here to see Kylie."

  Eyes turned to Kylie. She nodded without hesitation, her voice smooth and confident as she murmured, "Yeah."

  Lucy could feel Brooke watching her again - analysing. Something was bothering her too. Lucy had more or less figured out what: she was the reason Brooke had been distracted. If it had been anyone else at that door, Brooke wouldn’t have given them a second gnce. But it was Lucy. Someone she had history with. It was impossible for Brooke to consider it a coincidence - but Lucy knew the truth: it was.

  Then, the answer to her own riddle clicked into pce. Someone was missing. She had seen two employees enter Club Blue. Could she have really missed Brooke? Just walked past her, unseen? No. No way. And even if Brooke was one of them, that should have made three people total - the driver of the van should have been there too.

  It didn’t add up. She didn’t know what it meant yet, but she was sure of one thing now - this wasn’t just about a crate of alcohol.

  Before she could turn the thought over again, a grunt shattered her focus.

  "This isn’t working."

  The brute moved fast. He pulled out his gun, stepped forward, and grabbed Kylie. She barely had time to scream before his thick arms wrenched her into a crushing grip, her feet scraping against the floor as she kicked wildly, struggling to break free. The gun pressed to her temple.

  Lucy shot up, knife in hand. Rage ripped through her. She pointed the bde at the brute, then at Brooke, then back again, her whole body shaking.

  The brute only smirked.

  "What the fuck! Put me down!" Kylie screeched, thrashing. But she wasn’t strong enough.

  His arms cmped tighter, not caring if he hurt her.

  Lucy could barely breathe.

  The colours of the room seemed to shift, the edges warping with every inhale, the walls closing in. Kylie was the only person in her life she hadn’t hurt. And now, she was about to watch her die. And it would be her fault.

  The brute locked eyes with her. Cold. Amused.

  "Down," he said, like he was scolding a puppy.

  Lucy’s grip on the knife tightened. Just one move. That was all it would take. She could lunge, tear the smugness off his face, rip his throat open-

  But Kylie would die first.

  Her hands were shaking. Her pulse smmed against her ribs.

  She saw the fear in Kylie’s eyes. And she submitted. Slowly, reluctantly, she lowered the knife.

  "What the fuck are you doing?" Brooke snapped, stepping in front of the brute, cutting off his line of sight to Lucy. Her movement was sharp, full of authority - but it didn’t matter. Whatever control she had was gone. "I said nobody needs to get hurt."

  The brute barely gnced at her. "I don’t answer to you," he said.

  Brooke scoffed, but he wasn’t finished.

  "I answer to Alice."

  Lucy’s stomach dropped. The name left her mouth before she could stop it. "Alice?"

  Alice Creed.

  The self-procimed Queen of Albank. Leader of Albank Castle.

  Lucy had never met her, but she knew the stories. A ruthless control freak, drunk on her own power, pying God in a castle filled with people desperate enough to believe in her. She wasn’t just a leader - she had convinced an entire faction that she was divine. And somehow, that delusion had stuck, because Albank Castle had food, medicine, and the strongest walls in the city.

  Her people were cult-like and pompous. They didn’t get involved in club politics. So what the fuck did Alice Creed want with a crate of alcohol?

  Obviously, this had never been about alcohol.

  The client - the one who had hired Lucy’s crew - she had pyed them all, setting up something bigger than she had let on. Something that involved Alice Creed.

  Lucy shook her head, anger slicing through the fear. "You said this was over a crate of alcohol. Why the fuck would Alice Creed want that?"

  The brute’s patience snapped. "Shut your mouth!" he barked. His voice was thunderous.

  Kylie flinched in his grip. Lucy nearly moved, barely stopping herself.

  "We’re asking the questions," he continued, voice low and deliberate now, full of cold certainty. "We know that you have the answers, and we know that your friend doesn’t. So, I’d suggest doing what you’re told."

  Brooke let out a dramatic shake of her head - an almost theatrical dispy of irritation. "You’re so fucking stupid."

  Lucy blinked. She wasn’t talking to her. Brooke turned to the brute, eyes bzing with contempt.

  "She’s telling the truth," Brooke said. "I know when she’s lying. We grew up together."

  Lucy felt a cold kind of shock. Not at Brooke defending her. But at the fact that this had spiralled so far out of control that Brooke had become the moderating force.

  The brute scoffed, unimpressed. "This is why you don’t send a woman to do a man’s job," he muttered.

  Brooke’s expression darkened.

  The brute rolled his shoulders, as if shaking off a bad taste. "You’re acting with your emotions," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "Either she knows something or she doesn’t. Far as I care, one dead slut is a small price to pay to find that out."

  Kylie was still fighting, but Lucy could feel her slowing down. Her energy, once wild and relentless, was fading into desperate, jerking motions - her body burning through its st reserves. She wasn’t going to break free.

  Lucy’s pulse pounded, the air in the room growing heavier, thicker. Brooke looked unsure. Lucy seized onto that. Brooke wasn’t going to save Kylie. Which meant Lucy had to.

  She forced a breath, kept her voice urgent, pleading. "Somebody hired me," she said. "I was on Parsgate when some man came up to me, offered me chips just to knock on that door and tell whoever answered that I was looking for a job. I... didn’t know it would be you, Brooke... and I didn’t know what he was up to! I swear."

  Brooke’s eyes drilled into her. If her cim of being the world’s best Lucy lie detector was true, then she’d know. She’d know this was bullshit.

  The brute, though - he nodded. His grip on Kylie didn’t loosen, but a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. "And what did this man look like?"

  Lucy’s brain moved too fast. Brandon had been part of the job - there was a real chance he’d been seen at some point. If she gave a description that almost matched, it would work.

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second - just long enough to look like she was struggling to remember - then described Brandon in vague but mostly accurate terms.

  A calcuted risk. One that had better not bite her ter.

  The brute nodded again. Brooke gnced at him, clearly watching for a reaction - and she got one. That matched something he’d seen.

  A small win. But not enough.

  "What else did he tell you?" the brute pressed.

  "Nothing!" Lucy shook her head, putting everything into her desperation. Sell it. "Please... that’s all I know. I’m being honest."

  Silence.

  Then-

  "Nah, see-" His voice was frustrated, arrogant. "-that still doesn’t add up."

  Lucy’s stomach coiled.

  Brooke had told him about their history.

  He already knew that she was the only person who could have distracted Brooke long enough for the job to succeed.

  "You’re telling me that this mystery guy of yours-" He motioned toward Lucy with a slight tilt of his gun. "-had the luckiest break of his life?"

  Lucy wanted to groan. He was right. It was too good to be a coincidence. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. But how could it not be?

  Brandon had no idea about her history with Brooke. She was certain of that. But the odds of this happening - of Brooke being the one at that door - were impossibly small.

  Did the client know?

  The thought hit her brain like a bullet. Lucy’s fingers twitched. She forced them still. Don’t react.

  It was ridiculous. How could she have known? Even Lucy hadn’t known that Brooke would react this strongly to seeing her again. So how could anyone else have?

  "Consider the alternative," Lucy said, steadying her breath, forcing her voice to sound as calm and rational as possible. One final py.

  "You’re suggesting that I just happened to be someone looking for a crate of alcohol - who just so happened to know that on this specific night, Brooke would be working alone at the club. And that I somehow knew she’d be upset enough to get distracted by me, but not upset enough to kill me. Doesn’t that sound even more insane?"

  She let the words settle.

  It was the best pitch she had. A trap disguised as logic. She’d even been careful to include the part about Brooke working alone - even though she now knew that Brooke wasn’t one of the Club Blue employees she had seen earlier. Brooke had broken into the club herself. She was trying to steal the crate. Lucy pretended she hadn’t figured that out.

  If she still thought Brooke had been an employee, it made her seem even more clueless. Even more innocent.

  Silence. Then-

  "Fuck!" the brute yelled.

  His whole body tensed, then sagged. His arms flopped down, releasing Kylie like she was nothing more than dead weight.

  She scuttled across the floor, scrambling toward Lucy so fast she nearly tripped over herself. She crashed into Lucy’s side, clutching onto her like she would never let go.

  Lucy barely had time to react before she felt the warmth of Kylie’s skin against hers. Relief smmed into her, so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made her dizzy.

  They were both alive.

  The brute exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders, shaking off his wasted effort like a dog shaking off water. "She doesn’t know shit. We’re wasting our time," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

  Brooke hadn’t moved. She didn’t say anything, but the look of disdain on her face was clear. Not for Lucy. Not for Kylie. For him.

  The brute didn’t notice, or didn’t care. He stormed out without another word, his footsteps heavy, the tension in the room finally breaking as the door swung shut behind him.

  Kylie still hadn’t let go of Lucy. Lucy didn’t mind.

  Brooke lingered. She stared at Lucy, her expression unreadable, as if she had something left to say but no words to shape it.

  Finally, she exhaled, the tension in her posture unravelling just slightly. "See you around, Luce," she said, voice soft, almost sad.

  And then she was gone. The door clicked shut. Silence.

  Lucy swallowed, staring at the spot where Brooke had stood.

  As the door clicked shut behind Brooke, oxygen returned to the room. The smog faded. They were alive.

  Lucy turned to Kylie, who was still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. Her hands pressed over her heart, fingers curled tight, as if trying to hold herself together.

  You should have told the truth. The thought came unbidden, sharp as a knife. You should’ve told them everything. You put her life in danger to save your own. Her body seized with the weight of it - a fresh wave of guilt crushing down.

  She buried her face into the couch and screamed. The padding absorbed it, muffling the raw, shaking sound. It was release - a violent purge of everything she had swallowed down over the past fifteen minutes. By the time she lifted her head, the world had settled again.

  The room regained its edges. Their hearts slowed, beating in rhythm again. Kylie shifted. She crawled across the couch, small and shaking, and rested her head in Lucy’s p. Lucy hadn’t even realised she was crying.

  For a second, she just sat there, staring down at the red curls tangled in her p. She felt Kylie’s breath against her thigh - the steady warmth of her pressing closer, breaking any lingering tension.

  Kylie’s voice was quiet, breathy, the slightest edge of something teasing beneath the exhaustion. "What the hell have you dragged me into?"

  She was looking up at Lucy now, her face still streaked with dried tears. There was a twinge of annoyance in her voice, but nothing more. Lucy exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus on Kylie’s touch, on the safety of now.

  "I don’t know," she said. It was the only answer she had. "I thought it was just a crate of alcohol... but I don’t know."

  Kylie turned her head slightly, gazing out at the dimly lit room.

  "I’m sorry," Lucy said - the weight of everything pressing into her chest again. "I really shouldn’t have come here."

  The reaction was instant. Kylie’s head snapped up, her wide, gssy eyes locking onto Lucy’s. The forgiveness was there before she even spoke - a silent, unshakable of course you should have.

  Then, softer: "Who was she?"

  "I think a bitch from East Way sums her up pretty well."

  Kylie hummed, fingertips drifting idly down Lucy’s leg - slow and soothing. "Does she know why you left?"

  Lucy exhaled, long and depleted. "I don’t know how much she knows."

  "She said that you’d grown up together."

  "She did."

  Lucy tilted her head back, staring at the water-stained ceiling, willing herself not to scream. For so long, she had locked the past away - buried it under new names, new pces, and people who didn’t ask too many questions. Brandon and his crew had been her escape - a clean break from Jack, from Brooke, from Kylie, from Rachel.

  Now, the ghosts had caught up, and she was drowning.

  "She was at the Manor with me," Lucy said, her voice dull and detached, as if saying it ftly enough would stop her mind from following the thread any further.

  "Interesting," Kylie said, absently twirling a strand of her own hair. She didn’t look at Lucy, didn’t see the way her eyes darkened. "I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned anybody from your time there. Well, other than..."

  "Rachel."

  Kylie hesitated. She had been trying to spare her, but Lucy wouldn’t let her name go unsaid. A hand trailed down Lucy’s neck - slow and reassuring - an apology without words.

  Lucy turned her head slightly, offering the smallest of smiles. "That was Brooke Matheson," she said, still staring at the ceiling, at the bck mould creeping across it like the past cwing its way back in. "She was horrible to us, but for a little while... we made amends. Now, she hates me again."

  "Amends, huh?" Kylie’s tone was light, teasing, but too knowing.

  Lucy snorted, shaking her head. "We kissed once. Once. It was stupid."

  Kylie giggled, kicking her legs up like a girl hearing the test juicy gossip. "I knew it! The sexual tension in the room was unreal."

  "Oh, shut up!"

  Lucy’s lips curled into a grin before she could stop them. She looked down at the inferno in her p, feeling Kylie’s warmth pressed against her soul. For the first time that night, she let herself wish she could stay.

  Kylie sighed, pressing closer, her lips brushing Lucy’s cvicle with a slow, heavy breath. "Stay, please," she whispered. "Fuck Rouge. I can miss a day. Just stay with me for one more night, Lucy. Please."

  Lucy swallowed, watching the girl who had never begged for anything. At a different time, those words would’ve kept her here forever. She wanted to stay. God, she wanted to. But she couldn’t. Her friends could be in danger.

  Kylie already knew the answer.

  "I’m sorry," Lucy whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to Kylie’s forehead.

  It felt too much like goodbye.

  Nothing they said to each other mattered after that. The words kept coming, but the vulnerability was gone. A reflexive return to old habits - brushing over wounds and pretending nothing had changed.

  And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe if they ever crossed paths again, they’d fall back into pce, just like they had this time. But that didn’t make leaving any easier.

  They shared one st embrace - hollow and heavy - and then Lucy walked away. The emergency door smmed behind her, severing the st fragile thread.

  And then - she was alone.

  A gust of December air smmed into her, biting through her jacket. She barely felt it.

  The alley behind Parsgate’s walls was narrow. That morning’s rain had pooled into shallow, uneven puddles, their surfaces rippling in response to nothing. The walls on either side loomed over her, trapping her in their cold embrace.

  There wasn’t much light left in the world. Only a few of the streetmps still clung to life, their dim glow flickering in the distance - too far to reach, too weak to matter. Each year, fewer of them worked. A slow decay.

  She moved carefully, picking her way through the dark, the uneven ground threatening to catch her off bance. If there was a Flesh in the alley, she wouldn’t even see it until it was too te.

  She could still turn back. Kylie was right behind that door. Probably resting against it, waiting, praying that Lucy would change her mind. Lucy knew the feeling.

  She clenched her jaw. "You’re such a bitch," she muttered, barely more than a breath - the words meant for no one but herself.

  She could run back into Kylie’s arms. Feel her face light up. Let herself be happy. But if she turned for even a second - she would succumb.

  A fear of finality pushed her forward instead. The thought that this might have been their st night together. That thought was too scary to face, and so she didn’t face it - she kept moving.

  She kept moving, telling herself that this was about her friends. That she had to find them. Had to save them. The lie felt more convincing with every step.

  She collided with a stack of metal bins, the sharp ctter swallowed by the noise of Parsgate’s streets. The city was still alive. Just behind these walls, the drunken, boisterous crowds still roared - separated from her by nothing but a thin membrane of crumbling brick.

  Lucy exhaled sharply. She could see Kylie in her mind, returning to work, putting on the mask. Pretending everything was normal.

  With one final footstep, she left the maws of the alleyway and stepped into a real residential street. Two lights revealed the scattering of debris and broken-down cars, amongst the homes and a pointed church, with potted windows. With her knife in hand, she paced steadily down the obstacle-free pavement, looking in all directions so that she would spot anything that came racing towards her. She pictured something knocking down one of the houses’ doors and charging towards her, or jumping out from behind one of the cars.

  It would take her fifteen minutes to get to the meeting point, and she knew that she would be on the verge of death for all of them. A million eyeballs watched her from the shadows, but she had no idea which ones.

  Her steady pace started to quicken, following a simir logic to those caught in rain. Minimise your time of exposure and minimise the impact. Her walk became a jog, became a run, became a sprint - as she tore full pelt down the street, eyes still darting around in an attempt to anticipate any threat.

  She wasn’t looking down when the pair of hands shot out from beneath one of the parked cars. If she had seen it, she might’ve been able to react before its crooked fingers wrapped themselves around her ankle, causing her to sm against the pavement at full force, her head hitting the concrete with a fsh of stars. The pain was disorientating, and she stayed down as she felt blood trickle over her left eye. Her vision blurred and brain throbbed as she looked up from the ground to see a Flesh male climb out from beneath the car.

  Its body was wrong. The arms were reversed, and hung a few inches too low. Half of its face had peeled off, revealing dry grey muscle beneath. That skin hung over its neck, fraying at the ends and fpping in the wind - spping against its grapefruit-sized Adam’s apple. Most of the Flesh were deformed like this.

  The worst realisation after the Fsh was when the killed monsters got back up afterwards. You could incapacitate a Flesh with a knife, a gun, or anything else. But, no matter how much you cerated it - the creature would put itself back together, often in the wrong way.

  It looked down on her with the typical glossy white eyes and a mass of pulled pork where its genitalia had once been. The smell was a foul blend of rot and blood, and even as her world spun - she chastised herself for not noticing it sooner and allowing herself to be caught in this ambush.

  The thing lingered over her, before opening its jaw, letting out a creaking voice. "Such a delicate little thing."

  She breathed heavily, looking around the crimson-toned street for something she could use to save herself. In her desperation, it dawned on her that she’d been lying to herself a long time - telling herself that she didn’t fear death. This wasn’t how she wanted it to end. She wasn’t ready.

  It took a step forward, hovering above her, as she desperately tried to crawl backwards but failed to find much traction - her head pounding in pain. "Don’t be shy," it groaned. "Talk to me, darling."

  "Go fuck yourself," she said, spitting out blood, trying to ignore how broken her voice was.

  It scoffed. "Charming."

  She took one st breath, closing her eyes as her mind ran through the events of her life, and the people who had brought her to this point. All of those she loved came racing - Melissa, Penny, Kylie, Dyn, Olivia, Brandon... Rachel. Her eyes darted wide at the final name - the name that she’d given power.

  Energy soared through her as she pushed herself to the side, flying under the car just as the Flesh’s nails smmed down over her initial position, hitting the stone instead, bending them out of pce. It roared in pain, though even then - its words sounded more like ughter than cursing.

  "You sneaky bitch!"

  She knew that all she had managed to do was extend her life by a single moment. There was no way out from her current position on the floor. She was back in the community centre’s closet.

  "I’m sorry," she whispered only to herself - wondering if Kylie would ever find out what had happened to her, and not knowing if she’d like her to. Either Kylie would think that Lucy had abandoned her, or she would think that her failure to convince Lucy had been the act that doomed her.

  "Huh?" the Flesh said - and for a moment, she thought it had heard her apologise. It wasn’t until its excmation was followed by a loud crash that she realised something else was happening.

  A guttural grunt of pain tore through the air, followed by sharp, broken whimpers that spluttered out into silence. She remained frozen under the car, the chaotic symphony of her thumping heart as loud as the bang itself.

  "You can come out now," a new voice rasped - high-pitched and grotesque.

  Her eyes widened in shock. Shit. It was another Flesh. Her apparent saviour was another fucking monster. But that didn’t make sense. The long-standing theory was that the Flesh were a singur entity - a hive-mind that shared one brain and many bodies. Yet, this one seemed to have fought with one of its own brethren - a breach of unity that should’ve been impossible.

  When Lucy didn’t move from her sanctum, the voice spoke again, colder now. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have dragged you out already. That is not why I am here."

  There was no argument to make against that, but she still had a hard time believing it. A Flesh that didn’t want to kill her? Without any other option, and fuelled partially by curiosity, she decided to py along with whatever masochistic game it was pying, and dragged herself out from under the car, losing focus as her heart continued to thunder.

  When the new Flesh came into view, she saw that it had once been a woman. It was shorter, and had long, dead hair. Its face bore a long diagonal slit - as if it had been sliced in half and then reattached shoddily. Unlike most Flesh, it was not nude - it donned tight bck clothing.

  "Get out of here," it droned.

  Lucy stood in awe, unable to move from her now-standing position facing the mysterious Flesh woman. She couldn’t leave without an answer.

  "Why did you help me?"

  "You need to leave. More are coming."

  That wasn’t the answer Lucy sought, but it was an effective one at convincing her to leave. She bowed her head.

  "Right. Well, thank you."

  It gave something resembling a nod back, and Lucy turned away - ready to hobble down the street and find her pace. However, just before she got out of sight, the Flesh woman yelled after her.

  "Lucy Hanley," it called out, causing her to halt.

  "You know my name?"

  It nodded, but didn’t eborate.

  "When you wear it, they can’t harm you."

  With those final words, it scuttled away - leaving Lucy dumbfounded in the street, staring at the slowly repairing body of the fallen Flesh male.

  When you wear it, they can’t harm you.

  Who were they? What was it?

  Most importantly, the young woman wondered - who was that, and why did they seem so familiar?

  LilAgarwal