Pink stood in the center of CoralVault, surrounded by glass walls that reflected the daylight streaming in from the harbor outside. The air was cool and crisp, and she could catch the faint scent of saltwater from the sea wall just beyond the pristine plaza. Marble-paved walkways stretched out around her, filled with bustling people who moved leisurely between enormous digital billboards flashing ads and news updates. It was all too perfect—too clean and artificial.
She felt a few sets of eyes on her and realized, with a grin, that she'd probably been talking to herself out loud, a habit from her mental exchanges with Prism. Civilians whispered behind their hands as they walked by, casting curious, lingering glances. Rangers weren't an everyday sight, especially one like her, whose edgy demeanor made her stand out.
Prism's voice buzzed in her ear, a familiar hum that both grounded and thrilled her. "Quite the audience you've gathered there, Pink. They look at you like you're from another planet," Prism teased, its tone low and conspiratorial.
Pink smirked, stretching her arms above her head, letting the leather of her black suit shift over her shoulders. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly blend in here," she muttered, her voice low. "This place? It's a damn fishbowl. All glass walls, shiny floors, clean lines. Nothing real. Just a pristine cage."
"I hear that," Prism replied, its voice thick with shared contempt. "Let's ditch this perfection and make some noise. You've got better places to be."
Pink's fingers tapped rhythmically against her morpher, and a wicked grin spread across her face. She couldn't wait to leave CoralVault behind, to escape the polished, sterile bubble and dive into something real—something chaotic.
Pink turned on her heel, her boots making sharp, decisive clicks against the marble floor as she prepared to leave CoralVault behind. The crowd around her began to disperse, the whispers and curious stares trailing off, though a few onlookers lingered, still fascinated by the sight of a Ranger in their midst. Pink paid them no mind, her grin widening as anticipation bubbled inside her.
"Ready to ditch this place?" Prism's voice buzzed in her ear, a mix of excitement and mischief. "You know you love using the morpher to skip the lines."
Pink's fingers hovered over the morpher on her wrist, the privilege of instant teleportation making her feel untouchable. "Damn right I do," she murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction. "Everyone else needs a pad, but not me." She took a final glance at the polished perfection of CoralVault—the pristine city built on the bones of Sydney—and relished the thought of leaving it behind.
With a quick command and a flash of light, the world around her dissolved. The gleaming glass walls and bustling plaza melted away, replaced by the sterile, polished halls of the Command Center. The temperature dropped slightly, the air tinged with the familiar scent of ozone and polished steel. Pink rolled her shoulders, already feeling more alive, more ready to dive into the chaos.
"Welcome back to the fun zone," Prism cooed, and Pink's grin only widened.
Pink materialized on the Ranger-only teleport pad on Level 8, her boots landing with a solid thud on the reinforced metal grating. The air hummed with a soft, electric pulse from the Eltarian technology, and the metallic walls gleamed under the dim lighting, each surface glinting with a sterile readiness. It was an aura of stark efficiency, the epitome of a military installation designed for purpose and precision.
Prism's voice lit up her mind, filled with playful energy. "Welcome to the steel fortress, darling. Freshly rebuilt after Ceres—hidden turrets, blast doors, and all. It's like they're begging someone to test out those defenses."
Pink's lips curved into a wicked grin as she adjusted her gloves, the familiar hum of her morpher a subtle reminder of the chaos she was about to unleash. "Sounds like they're aching for a little action," she drawled, her body practically vibrating with anticipation.
Prism continued, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "And let's not forget the Eltarian core tech. Even the simulator rooms got a facelift. Reinforced energy shields, in case your 'enthusiasm' gets out of hand." There was a knowing smirk embedded in her mental tone, teasing at Pink's reputation for going overboard.
Pink's laughter bubbled up, echoing through the empty hall. "A girl's gotta have her fun, right? Besides, what's the point of having shiny alien tech if we don't push it to the max?" She sauntered forward, her boots striking a confident rhythm as she moved toward the simulator levels.
Prism's tone softened, carrying a rare hint of reverence through their connection. "Level 9's a real gem," she murmured. "Alpha's integration point, the beating heart of the Command Center. All the computer core power, the cooling systems… It's the closest thing I have to a father, you know."
The feeling washed over Pink, an unexpected wave of warmth and admiration that wasn't entirely her own. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on her morpher, feeling the reverence ripple through their bond. Prism's affection for Alpha wasn't something she often let slip, but when she did, it was deeply genuine.
Pink's grin softened, though her eyes still held a mischievous sparkle. "He'd be proud of you," she said, her voice dropping just a fraction. "You know that, right? Even when we're causing chaos."
Prism's energy brightened, and the warmth in their link shifted to something more playful, more familiar. "Only if it's the right kind of chaos," she quipped, her humor bubbling back to the surface. "But let's keep moving. We wouldn't want to disappoint Alpha, would we?"
Pink stepped onto the stairwell landing for Level 7, where imposing metal doors loomed ahead, labeled "High-Security Detainment" in stern block letters. The reinforced barriers seemed to hum with a heavy, almost oppressive energy, as though they were barely containing the secrets and darkness locked within. The air thickened around her, clinging to her skin and carrying an eerie, sterile chill that made the hairs on her neck stand on end.
The walls, sleek with the sheen of Eltarian alloys, held a harsh, sterile gleam under the fluorescent lights, their cold surfaces seeming to swallow up any warmth. The entire level radiated a sense of forbidding stillness, broken only by the distant, muted echo of security doors opening and closing. It was the kind of place where even whispers felt like shouts.
Prism's voice whispered into Pink's mind, oozing with mock dread and playful sarcasm. "High-Security Detainment. Home to interrogation cells, stasis chambers, and enough bad vibes to make a ghost blush. Can't you just picture Yellow haunting these halls, cataloging prisoners like she's curating an aquarium of the damned?"
Pink smirked, her lips curving into a devilish grin as she ran a gloved hand along the cold metal railing. "Oh, she'd be in her element," she mused, picturing it vividly. "All calm and collected, her skin shifting to that unsettling dark blue she gets when she's focused. She'd glide through here, silent as a shadow, her eyes narrowing as she scanned each cell like she was judging prey at a seafood market."
Prism's laughter buzzed warmly through their mental link, full of dark amusement. "And she'd whisper something spooky, like, 'Keep your friends close and your anemones closer,' just to watch them squirm."
Pink's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she leaned into the joke. "Or, if she felt poetic, she'd say, 'Don't flounder now; it'll only make things worse,' with that eerie smile of hers. You know, the one that sends chills down your spine."
Prism's energy practically sparkled with delight. "Imagine her confronting someone about to get their ass kicked. She'd tilt her head, skin rippling with that weird bioluminescent shimmer, and say, 'You've got a real eel of a problem,' right before striking."
Pink snorted, clutching her side as she tried to suppress her laughter, but the sound echoed down the sterile corridor. "Or during interrogations, she'd mutter, 'I have a whale of a tale to tell you,' and just leave them hanging, confused and terrified."
Prism's voice grew fond and teasing, the humor bubbling up like a dark ocean current. "Yellow would make intimidation an art form. 'Just keep swimming,' she'd say, her voice all soothing and sinister. 'Or you'll end up as fish food.'"
Prism's laughter made their bond hum, the energy between them buzzing with shared amusement. "Or giving motivational speeches like, 'You're the shark of your destiny. Swim strong or sink.'"
Pink doubled over, her laughter echoing louder this time, the sound breaking the cold silence of Level 7. Her grin softened slightly, but her eyes still glinted with mischief. "Why is she so good at being terrifying? She's like a haunting mermaid, only without the singing and more of the silent, 'I'll drown you in your own fear' vibe."
Prism's voice was smug, carrying a conspiratorial edge. "It's definitely the skin thing. When she goes full octopus mode, with her color shifting and skin rippling like something out of a horror film... it's pure nightmare fuel."
Pink wiped a tear from her eye, her chuckles finally dying down. "Thank god she's on our side. Alright, enough fish tales. Let's keep moving before I laugh myself into a stasis chamber."
Pink continued down the stairwell, her boots echoing off the sleek metal steps as they descended to Level 6. The moment she stepped off the landing, the air changed. A heavy, mechanical scent filled her nostrils—coolant, oil, and the metallic tang of machinery. The floor beneath her feet vibrated with a steady rhythm, the pulse of massive engines and machinery hard at work. The Zord Maintenance and Deployment Bay was a sprawling, cavernous space, filled with towering mechanical limbs, scaffolding, and platforms that made it feel like a giant's workshop.
Prism's voice crackled in her ear, dripping with playful excitement. "Ah, Level 6: Zord Heaven. Where all the giant, stompy, metal beasts get pampered and polished. It's practically a playground for Blue and his endless love of making machines do all the hard work for him."
Pink let out a low chuckle, her grin widening as she imagined it. "Oh, yeah. Blue would find getting his hands dirty boring as hell. But programming these babies to run perfectly, automating every repair and upgrade? Now that would get his blood pumping. You know he'd be up all night, tweaking algorithms and patching code, his eyes gleaming behind those glasses..."
Prism's energy pulsed warmly through their link, tinged with an undeniable attraction. "Mmm, the things he could do with a few lines of code. Remember those real-time patches he made for me? Fast, efficient, and—oh—so satisfying. It's like he knew exactly what I needed."
Pink felt a flush of heat rise in her cheeks, a wicked thrill coursing through her. "Stop it, you're making me hot. But, yeah, there's something... enticing about him, sitting there, fingers flying over the keyboard, making everything bend to his will. Like, damn, who knew a nerd could be so... commanding?"
Prism practically purred, the teasing note in her voice sending shivers down Pink's spine. "He's got that big... programmer energy, and you know I'm all about those upgrades. The precision, the way he writes clean, efficient code—makes a girl feel spoiled."
Pink snorted, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside her. "Oh god, stop. If he ever heard us talking like this, he'd probably crash a Zord out of embarrassment."
Prism's laughter danced through their connection, full of gleeful mischief. "Or maybe he'd just program a new simulation—one where we're the ones getting worked over."
Pink shivered again, her grin turning devilish. "Now that's a sim I'd love to run. Alright, enough fantasizing. Let's move before this place gets too steamy, and not because of the coolant."
With a wicked bounce in her step, Pink strode forward, the vibrations of the machinery thrumming through her body, making her feel alive and ready for whatever chaos awaited.
Pink made her way down to Level 5, the doors sliding open with a faint hiss. The air was thick with intensity, buzzing with the hum of tactical projections and data streams that coursed through the room. The Tactical Operations and Strategy Room sprawled out before her, a labyrinth of holo-screens and translucent blueprints suspended mid-air. Cities and battle zones blinked and shifted, terrain maps animated with strategic overlays, every projection shimmering with eerie, synthetic light. The walls, etched with intricate Eltarian runes, pulsed softly with each data update, like the heartbeat of a war machine.
Prism's voice lit up, her energy practically sparking with excitement. "Level 5: the nerve center of all command and control. Red would be in her element here, ruling over every little detail like a strategic goddess."
Pink's eyes danced over the glowing maps, picturing Red standing tall at the center of it all, exuding authority. "Oh, yeah," Pink drawled, her voice dripping with playful mischief. "I can see it now: Red, commanding the entire planet. Armies, generals, even traffic cops just falling in line because she said so. It'd be like the whole world playing a deadly version of 'Simon Says.'"
Prism buzzed with glee, catching onto the wild scenario. "Imagine some self-important general scrambling to assemble a cupcake army because Red demanded snacks. And if anyone dared hesitate..." Prism's voice dropped, her tone full of mock dread. "She'd shoot them that glare. You know the one. The kind that makes grown men question their entire existence."
Pink let out a laugh, the sound bouncing off the sterile, tech-infused walls. "Yeah, she'd have them whipped into shape faster than you can say 'strategic disaster.' One guy hesitates, and she's barking, 'Did I stutter?' with that voice that makes you want to dig your own grave just to save her the trouble."
Prism's energy rippled with admiration. "She's got that vibe, doesn't she? The kind that makes people fall over themselves to obey. It's magnetic and terrifying... and kind of hot, if I'm being honest."
Pink snickered, the thought making her grin. "You're such a sucker for authority. But yeah, it is kinda hot. Still, all this... planning and strategizing?" She waved dismissively at the meticulous holograms. "Boring as hell. No action, no adrenaline rush."
Prism's voice grew teasing, but the warmth in her tone was unmistakable. "Not everything has to be chaos and explosions, Pink. Some of us appreciate a good plan before you tear it to shreds."
Pink smirked, the corners of her lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Yeah, but I live for the moments when things go off-script. The thrill of turning order into chaos, of throwing a wrench in the machine and watching it all come apart."
Prism chuckled, their bond thrumming with shared amusement. "I know, love. But you'd still give Red a heart attack. She'd be clutching her pearls—or whatever she wears in battle—trying to keep up with you."
Pink gave a playful sigh, running a gloved finger along the edge of one of the holo-tables. "Fine, fine. Let's move on before I'm tempted to program a city-wide flash mob just to see if anyone questions her authority."
With a bounce in her step, Pink continued toward the stairwell, the glow of Level 5 fading behind her. The charged atmosphere lingered in her senses, but her mind was already racing ahead, hungry for the next adventure.
Pink's boots clanged against the stairwell as she made her way down, her excitement mounting with each step. She had reached Level 4, but Prism wasn't about to let her rush into it. The AI's voice filled her mind, warm and teasing, like a mischievous older sister prolonging the anticipation of a long-awaited gift.
"Whoa, whoa, not so fast," Prism chided, her voice dripping with teasing amusement. "We can't just rush to the climax, Pink. Where's the fun in that? Patience, darling. It's like denying an orgasm—agonizing, but so much better when the moment finally hits."
Pink groaned, practically squirming with anticipation. "Oh, come on, Prism! You're killing me here. Level 4 is where the real release is at!"
Prism's laugh was a sultry purr, the kind that sent shivers down Pink's spine. "Exactly. You know delayed pleasure is always worth it. But first, we've got to build it up, layer by layer.
Just think of Level 3: the Medical and Recovery Ward. Where Black's always begging for that sweet, sweet aftercare. Guy takes such a pounding, he should get a frequent flyer card for how often he needs to be patched up."
Pink's grin widened, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "Oh, for sure. You know he loves it. All that reckless, macho posturing, just so he can get the royal treatment afterward. Laying there, soaking up every gentle touch, every whispered word about how strong he is. I bet he practically preens when they tell him how brave he is."
Prism buzzed with dark glee. "And let's be honest, he probably flexes when no one's looking, loving every second of that soft attention. All those soothing hands and the way they fuss over him... it's like his dirty little reward."
Pink let out a wicked laugh. "Yeah, he's the tough guy until he's all laid out, basking in the free cuddles and sponge baths. Pretending he's above it all, but you know he's just reveling in every ounce of that doting."
Prism's voice turned conspiratorial. "And the best part? He'd never admit it. Denies it like a sinner in church."
Pink wiped a tear from her eye, her laughter easing into a sly smirk. "If he ever found out we knew... he'd be mortified. Or maybe he'd secretly like it, the attention both ways."
Pink took a few more steps, her boots echoing through the stairwell, but her eyes were already locked on the simulator doors just down the hall. Her whole body leaned forward, eager to burst through them and embrace the chaos waiting on the other side. "Come on, Prism. We're so close. Just give me the rundown on the next two levels, so we can get to the real fun."
Prism chuckled, the sound full of knowing mischief. "Alright, fine. Level 2: Research and Development. You know, where all the tech heads get to play god with alien gadgets and—"
Pink waved her hand dismissively, her voice full of impatience. "Pass. We already know that's where Blue gets the entire team off at the same time." Her grin widened, the wicked edge to her humor unmistakable. "All his little science projects, those perfect plans... yeah, no thanks. Not in the mood to get turned on by blueprints today."
Prism's laughter bubbled up, matching Pink's playful energy. "Fair enough. But you have to admit, the way he handles tech? It's got its own... charm."
Pink rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smirk tugging at her lips. "Yeah, yeah. We'll save that turn-on for later. Now hurry up. Level 1?"
Prism's voice hummed with a teasing edge as she moved on. "Level 1: Not much you haven't seen yet, honestly. Visitor intake, security checkpoints, those boring military teleport pads... oh, and the conference room they held that big tribunal in earlier."
Pink wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, boring. But go on."
Prism's tone brightened, eager to add some flair. "But here's the cool part: the entire above-ground level is fully isolated during an emergency. They could pulverize the whole surface, and it wouldn't even wake a cat from her nap."
Pink's eyes lit up with intrigue. "No shit? So, they could nuke the top, and the rest of us would just keep snoozing? That's... actually kind of badass."
Prism giggled. "Yep, it's like the world's most extreme panic room. We're talking layers upon layers of alien-engineered safety."
Pink was practically vibrating with impatience, her boots clanging against the metal floor as she reached the doors of the simulator room. Her fingers traced the sleek outline of the door, her touch lingering on the program panel to the side. She leaned in, her voice low and sultry. "Come on, Prism, give me the good D... tell me about Level 4."
Prism burst into a laugh, her amusement echoing through their link. "Oh, so now you're begging for it? I love it when you're this desperate."
Pink's eyes narrowed, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. "Desperate? You wish. I'm just ready to be blown away." Her hand hovered over the panel, the anticipation making her pulse quicken. "Spill the details, babe. I'm dying over here."
Prism finally relented, her voice full of teasing satisfaction. "Alright, alright. Level 4: The Simulator Rooms. Your playground, your battleground... your temple of chaos. Energy shields, enhanced combat programs, and every bit of alien tech the Alliance could throw at it to make sure your brand of destruction stays contained."
Pink's grin widened, her fingers flexing eagerly. "Now that's more like it. Shields strong enough to hold back a hurricane, programs twisted enough to make a sadist blush... it's like my own personal wet dream."
Prism purred approvingly. "Only the best for you, darling."
Pink's gaze lingered on Blue's combat scenario logs, but something deeper caught her attention. Prism pulled up the stats, and the raw data painted a brutal picture. Blue's completion times were fast—almost unnaturally so—but the margins for error were razor-thin. His combat efficiency was off the charts, a near-perfect rate that spoke to countless kill shots, but there was a darker undertone.
Prism's voice softened, a rare touch of concern threading through her words. "Look at the injury reports. He's been dancing on the edge, Pink. Near-fatal injuries, emergency resuscitations... he's pushing himself too hard."
Pink's fingers twitched over the screen, her chest tightening. "Yeah, but..." Her voice faltered. The records showed how often Blue had to be dragged back from the brink, how close he'd come to not walking out of this room ever again. The adrenaline he must've craved, the desperate need for danger—it sent a shiver down her spine.
Prism continued, her voice vibrating with a mix of worry and awe. "Every run, he's taking more risks. It's like he's daring himself not to make it out."
Pink's breath hitched, her pulse thundering. A surge of something hot and overwhelming flooded her veins—part dread, part arousal. The idea of Blue, reckless and wild, tempting fate in these brutal simulations made her burn. But the thought of him being hurt, almost broken... that was harder to swallow.
"God, Blue," she whispered, the words thick with something she didn't want to name. "Why do you do this to yourself?"
Prism's energy shifted, more electric and enticing. "Maybe it's time you reminded him why he needs to survive, love. Show him that there's more to fight for than just the pain."
Pink's lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, the weight of Blue's trust in her morphing into determination. She wasn't just going to break him out—she was going to remind him how to live.
Pink scrolled to the top of Blue's combat logs, her eyes skimming over the unnamed simulations still tabulating data. The latest three were listed only by numbers, the system still processing the sheer volume of variables and outcomes. Whatever Blue had faced in those, it had to be pure, unfiltered chaos. Her body thrummed with a mix of anticipation and unease.
"He's been busy," Prism murmured, her voice a mix of admiration and worry. "Those scenarios must've been brutal to still be computing outcomes. You think he's trying to outdo himself, or...?"
Pink's lips pressed into a line, but she said nothing. The idea of Blue pushing himself past every limit, dancing that close to oblivion, made her heart clench. She scrolled down to the most recent named scenario: Carnage Carnival.
Her grin flickered back to life. "Oh, this one... clowns with explosive pies, Prism! I swear, Blue's humor is as twisted as ours."
Prism purred with delight. "The only way to enjoy a carnival. I bet he's set it up so the Ferris wheel goes up in flames, taking half the midway with it."
Pink laughed, feeling the rush of excitement. "And I'll bet the cotton candy machines spray out acid. Blue never half-asses anything."
She scrolled again, coming across Blood Storm Orchestra. "Now this," Pink said, her voice husky, "is music to my ears. Imagine... each enemy dropping to the beat, plasma explosions orchestrated into a bloody symphony."
Prism buzzed with approval. "Violins of viscera and timpani of terror, love. Blue's got a gift for turning combat into art."
Pink's cheeks flushed, the idea making her burn hotter. "He's a genius. A twisted, reckless genius."
She paused on Meat Grinder Masquerade, her breath catching. "Unmask the guests by... feeding them to the grinder?" She shivered, the depravity making her tingle. "And here I thought I was the sick one."
Prism giggled. "You're both beautifully deranged. Just imagine the elegance of it—ballroom gowns and blood splatter."
Pink's heart thumped as she moved to Sweet Death Waltz. "You can't fight unless you dance..." she whispered, her eyes shining. "A combat waltz with switchblade stilettos. God, Blue, you're making me fall all over again."
Prism's laughter bubbled through their link. "The dresses, the blades... you'd look stunning, love. But Blue? He'd need a tux, all dark and dangerous."
Pink's fingers hovered over the screen, the scenarios making her wetter with each one. She could almost feel the pulse of adrenaline he must have chased, the thrill of defying death. Her breath quickened, her body alive with longing and dark excitement.
"Blue," she murmured, "you beautiful, reckless bastard."
Pink's fingers danced over the holographic screen, her pulse racing as she scrolled through Blue's list of combat scenarios. When Blood Plague #17 – The Scottish Highlands popped up, she nearly moaned at the sight of it. "Oh, look at this one," she breathed, a wicked grin curling on her lips. "Scottish Highlands, mist so thick you'd think it was trying to suffocate you, and blood-soaked fields. Blue really knows how to get me worked up."
Prism's laugh was electric, playful and teasing. "Mmm, think he programmed that Blood Plague elf to whisper sweet nothings in a sexy, guttural Scottish accent? 'Come here, lass, let me ravage ye on this bloody field.'"
Pink shivered, her excitement only building. "God, yes. All that raw, brutal energy... bagpipes wailing like it's the world's most violent mating call. You know Blue set it up so the enemy attacks are relentless. He's always been about pushing every limit."
Prism's voice purred in her mind. "And you love it. The way he makes you work for it, sweat for it. Admit it, Pink. You're dripping with anticipation just thinking about charging through that mist, fighting to keep up with him."
Pink squeezed her thighs together, heat pooling in her belly. "You know me too well, babe. It's the danger, the thrill... the idea of Blue, covered in dirt and blood, fighting like an animal. God, it's enough to make a girl lose her mind."
Prism leaned into their connection, her tone dripping with suggestion. "Remember how he used to patch me up mid-battle, coding me in ways that made me feel alive? Imagine what kind of... upgrades he'd give us now. Bet he's been programming all sorts of dirty tricks."
Pink let out a low laugh, her voice husky. "I can't wait to get my hands on his dirty tricks. The way he sets up those brutal ambushes... it's like he's fucking me with chaos. And I'm here for every thrust."
Prism giggled, feeding off Pink's energy. "Oh, you're so bad, Pink. But I bet Blue would be worse if he knew how much he affects you. Maybe it's time we remind him... once we break him out of detention."
Pink's grin widened, her whole body alive with anticipation. "Oh, don't worry, babe. We'll give him a show he'll never forget."
Prism's voice crackled back, filled with teasing judgment. "You're thinking of the wrong mission, love. We're not here for the fun ones."
Pink groaned, tossing her head back dramatically. Her boots tapped an impatient rhythm against the gleaming floor, her plaid skirt swishing as she shifted her weight. "So you're saying I need to pick something so mind-numbingly dull that Granny will go back to playing Sudoku instead of keeping an eye on me?"
Prism's energy buzzed with feigned sympathy. "Exactly. Give her a reason to check out. You know, like distracting a fussy kid with an iPad so you can sneak off and take the candy. We want her so bored she won't even care what you're doing."
Pink huffed, her lips pulling into a reluctant smirk. "Ugh, fine. I guess a long, tedious endurance sim it is. Something that'll make her yawn and think, 'Oh, just another predictable training exercise,' while we sneak away and cause trouble."
She scrolled through the simulator options, her fingers drumming restlessly against the screen. Her body practically vibrated with pent-up energy, her muscles itching to dive into something wild and chaotic. But she forced herself to play along, her grin taking on a mischievous edge. "You owe me for this, Prism. Big time."