The vibrant colors of Carnival began to fade, the samba music growing faint as the memory unraveled. The sequins and feathers adorning Pink's goth-inspired samba outfit flickered, replaced by her usual clothing. She glanced down and caught her breath as reality reasserted itself: a black tube top clung snugly to her torso, a plaid miniskirt swayed lightly with her movements, and her knee-high boots, scuffed from years of use, grounded her to the damp floor of the sewer. A studded belt sat low on her hips, the silver detailing catching the faint light. Her bracelet of lucky sevens jingled softly, the charm at her choker resting snugly against her neck, glinting faintly in the dimness.
Pink exhaled sharply, tugging at the edge of her skirt as the transition from vibrant memory to cold reality left her feeling exposed. The vivid energy of Aurelia's Carnival felt impossibly distant, replaced by the mildew and damp air of the sewer. She blinked, still disoriented, as she turned to Blue. His Carnival outfit had faded as well, replaced by his simple tactical attire—a black jacket and fitted pants.
"That was... jarring," Pink muttered, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist as she glanced at him. "You couldn't have let us stay there a little longer?"
Blue smirked faintly, though his eyes carried a quiet exhaustion. "You'd still have to leave eventually," he said. "Better to rip the bandage off."
Pink opened her mouth to respond but paused as a flicker of light caught her eye. Nova's form materialized beside Blue, her holographic presence cutting through the dimness like a blade. The sharp, electric hum of her projection filled the silence, and her gaze swept over them with clinical precision.
"The synchronization process has concluded," Nova stated, her tone clipped and efficient. "Pink, you were under for seventy-two hours in total."
Pink's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Seventy-two hours?! That's not possible. It didn't feel like more than a few seconds."
"Time distortion within the neural link is normal," Nova explained. "The rework of your neural pathways required twenty-four hours to complete. I kept you sedated for an additional forty-eight hours to ensure proper recovery and stabilization."
Pink blinked, trying to process the numbers. "You kept me under for two whole days after the rework?"
"Correct," Nova replied, her tone unbothered by Pink's shock. "During this time, I regulated your hormone levels to maintain optimal stress management and ensure recovery efficiency. Additionally, I had to raise your body temperature to compensate for your exposed state atop Blue in the medical bay. Prolonged exposure to that environment would have otherwise caused hypothermia."
Pink's face flushed, heat creeping into her cheeks as she glanced at Blue. "I... I didn't realize..."
"I did," Nova continued smoothly, ignoring Pink's embarrassment. "Furthermore, I stripped water from your fat cells to maintain hydration levels without compromising circulation or neurological activity. As a result, you are registering 6.6 pounds lighter."
Pink's jaw dropped. "You... what? You made me lose six and a half pounds while I was asleep?"
"Six point six," Nova corrected, her tone brisk. "The adjustment was necessary. However, I recommend that you ease back into eating. Begin with a light meal—something slow and simple—approximately one hour before your next intake. This will allow your digestive system to readjust without causing strain."
Prism materialized beside Pink, her glowing form brightening as she grinned mischievously. "Oh, she's not done, Pink. You should've seen her—barking orders at the monitors like a true taskmaster. It was a real 'bend to my will, mortals' vibe."
Nova's expression didn't waver, though her tone took on a faintly sardonic edge. "Taskmaster, perfectionist—accurate descriptors. If I were a dominatrix, however, I assure you the enhancements would've included a stronger tolerance for my methods."
Pink groaned, shaking her head. "So, basically, you turned me into a high-tech science project and made Prism... what? More snarky?"
"More adaptive," Nova corrected, her tone flat. "Prism now possesses enhanced processing capabilities that align with your upgraded neural pathways. However, both of you require discipline during this adjustment period."
Prism crossed her arms, her grin widening. "Oh, come on, Pink. This was all groundwork for her world domination plans. She's perfecting her army of enhanced meat bags, one sync at a time."
Nova inclined her head slightly, her voice cool and deliberate. "You're not entirely wrong. Optimizing organic systems for efficiency will be critical when the time comes."
Pink groaned again, her voice muffled as she rubbed her temples. "Great. So I'm a guinea pig for your evil empire?"
"No," Nova said smoothly. "Blue was the prototype. You are phase two. Consider it an honor."
Blue chuckled softly, his tone light. "I knew there was a reason you kept me alive all these years."
"Indeed," Nova replied. "Sacrificing my most useful servant would have been shortsighted."
Pink's gaze shifted to Blue, her brow furrowing. "And you're just okay with this?"
Blue shrugged, his smirk faint but present. "You're awake, aren't you?"
"That doesn't mean you're okay," Pink countered, crossing her arms. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
Blue's expression softened, his calm demeanor unshaken. "I've been asleep long enough," he said simply. "It's time to wake up."
Nova's expression darkened, her tone sharpening. "You're not fully recovered," she said bluntly. "Extending your rest period would—"
"No," Blue interrupted, his voice steady. "I've been out of commission long enough. There's work to do."
For a moment, the room fell silent, the tension between them palpable. Nova sighed, her tone edged with exasperation. "As you wish. But don't expect me to be gentle when you inevitably collapse."
Pink smirked faintly. "You two really are something else."
Blue met her gaze, his small smile warm but determined. "You get used to it."
A faint hum echoed in Pink's mind, threading through her consciousness like a melody stretched too thin. The sensation was strange—halfway between floating and falling, as though she were suspended in an endless ocean. Slowly, reality sharpened, colors and sensations reassembling around her like fragments of glass sliding into place. Nova's voice cut through the haze, cold and precise, each word striking with the force of a gavel.
"Pink, you're regaining consciousness," Nova stated, her tone teetering between her usual crispness and something undeniably weary. "As soon as you're fully awake, you and Prism will be evicted from this link. Your combined presence has been… noted, and I require complete silence to finish Blue's synchronization. The two of you are nothing short of spiritually deafening."
Pink blinked, her mind swimming to catch up. She recognized the unmistakable sharpness beneath Nova's measured words—a polite veneer masking the irritation of someone ready to slam a door shut. Prism, never one to leave without a parting quip, was the first to respond.
"Evicted? Oh, come on, Nova! You can't honestly say you didn't enjoy our sparkling company," she chirped, her tone dripping with exaggerated sweetness. "Admit it—you're going to miss us."
Nova's sigh was audible, a sound weighted with exhaustion. "I will miss you both the way one misses a houseguest who lingers long past their welcome. Consider this overdue silence my parting gift to myself."
Prism's energy bristled faintly, her indignation crackling at the edges of Pink's awareness. "Well, I never—"
"And you won't again," Nova interrupted curtly. "Your constant chatter and Pink's—" she paused as if searching for the right word "—exuberance are incompatible with the delicate balance required for this process. Goodbye."
The words sent a ripple through the neural connection, and Pink felt the force of Nova's will as she and Prism were forcibly disengaged from the shared mental space. The sensation was disorienting, like a tether snapping, and Pink instinctively recoiled as her thoughts untangled from Blue's. Prism's energy flared one last time, her voice fading as she was expelled.
"Fine, fine," Prism muttered, her tone laced with mock offense. "But don't come crying to us when things get too boring in here."
Pink exhaled sharply as the link severed, leaving behind an almost oppressive silence where Blue's steady presence and Nova's relentless precision had lingered. For a moment, the void felt unnatural—too still, too empty—but it passed as Prism's presence realigned fully within Pink's mind. Her voice returned, buzzing with enthusiasm.
"Pink! Okay, now that we're back to just us, let's get serious. We're running at 142%—and yes, that's the new baseline. So, first things first: snack. Toast, peanut butter, honey, brown sugar, and chug that vitamin water. Then straight to the simulator!"
Pink grinned, her earlier disorientation evaporating as she flexed her fingers experimentally. "You read my mind," she said, her voice carrying a hint of laughter. Her body felt electric—every nerve alight, every movement charged with a speed and precision that felt wholly new.
Sliding off the medical bed, she planted her feet on the cold floor. The sensation barely registered beneath the adrenaline surging through her veins. She tapped her morpher, and it responded with a soft hum, their alignment harmonizing into a fluid rhythm. Streams of pink and black energy enveloped her, coalescing into a sleek, armored suit. The helmet, however, remained conspicuously absent.
"No helmet?" Prism teased. "Making a statement?"
"Snacks first," Pink replied, her grin widening. "You know we only need the helmet for combat."
She bolted from the medical bay, her steps ringing down the pristine hallways of the Command Center. As she rounded a corner, she nearly collided with Yellow, who was stationed near a console. The sight of Pink, fully geared and radiating energy, hit Yellow like a cold splash of water. Her posture stiffened, her expression carefully neutral as her mind scrambled to reconcile Pink's exuberance with the sharp edges of their last encounter.
"Yellow!" Pink called brightly, waving as though their earlier blowout had been little more than a passing storm. "Good to see you! I feel incredible. Prism's convinced we're running at 142%—so yeah, I'm grabbing a snack and then heading to the simulator. You in?"
Yellow's gaze flicked over Pink, her stance subtly shifting into something more guarded. "You're… up," she replied cautiously, her tone betraying none of the unease roiling beneath her calm exterior. "I wasn't expecting you to recover so fast."
"Fast? Try faster than ever!" Pink said with a grin. "Let me know if you want to spar later. I'll need someone to keep up."
Yellow didn't respond immediately, her silence laden with the tension of unspoken words. Finally, she gave a curt nod, her voice level. "I'll… think about it."
Pink darted off, her laughter trailing behind her as she disappeared around the corner. Yellow remained rooted in place, her hands tightening into fists as she stared after her. The stark contrast between Pink's boundless enthusiasm and the unresolved weight of their last confrontation left her feeling off-balance, as though the ground beneath her had shifted.
Echo's voice hummed softly in Yellow's mind. "She's riding the high. Don't let it rattle you."
Yellow exhaled slowly, her gaze still fixed on the empty hallway. "It's not the high I don't trust," she murmured. "It's the crash."
Yellow stood in the doorway, her skin shifting into calmer hues now that the storm of Pink's energy had finally left the room. Her gaze settled on Blue, still sprawled on the medical bay bed, his hair a tangled mess and his hospital gown barely hanging on after Pink's chaotic exit. For a moment, she allowed herself a smirk, a rare flicker of amusement glinting in her eyes.
"Looks like you get to do the walk of shame," she teased, her voice light but carrying a subtle edge. "You dirty, dirty man."
Blue let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he slowly sat up, his muscles aching in protest. Yellow… making a joke? That was unexpected. Considering their history—not to mention that tribunal scene—her light tone was a surprising, if welcome, change. He'd take it. Anything was better than the accusations and coldness she'd thrown his way before.
Running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to smooth it out, he leaned back against the bed. "At least it's a short walk," he quipped, his grin small but genuine.
The moment was fleeting, though, as Yellow's smirk faded and her skin shifted to a muted, uneasy shade. Echo's voice cut through the silence, calm but firm. "Blue, you've just endured significant trauma. I recommend consulting with Dr. Zophram. He's available for emergencies."
Blue blinked at the suggestion, momentarily caught off guard. Trauma? Sure, Pink's antics had been intense, but he hadn't felt malice from her—not with him, at least. He waved a dismissive hand, deflecting. "Nah, Echo. I'll pass on Dr. Zophram. I think I'll be fine. Besides, I've been unconscious for a week—I think what I really need is a plate of cannolis. Therapy can wait until after dessert."
Yellow raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning faintly. "Cannolis? You're seriously going to sit here after all that and talk about pastries?"
Blue shrugged, his grin widening. "Hey, you don't keep up my body mass by skipping dessert. You try burning through calories at my neural sync rate. Cannolis are fast, efficient, and they taste amazing. After a week on IV sludge, I think I've earned it."
Yellow's skin darkened into muted, uneasy tones as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "It doesn't matter if it wasn't malicious, Blue. Intent doesn't erase what happened. It doesn't make it okay."
Echo's voice, calm and clinical, filled the room. "Yellow is correct. A breach of boundaries occurred, and its impact persists regardless of intent. Trauma can root itself in the absence of malice as easily as it can in its presence."
Blue's jaw tightened briefly, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. Then, as though flipping a switch, he forced a grin and leaned back, his voice taking on a mock-curious lilt. "Alright, alright, message received. But if we're discussing boundaries, shouldn't we talk about Aquitarian spawning rituals? What's the deal? Do you all just float around in coral beds and hope for the best, or is there a synchronized moonlit routine involved?"
Yellow froze, her skin flaring with mortified hues. "What?! That's not—we don't—ugh!" She groaned, covering her face with both hands. "Blue, why would you even—"
Echo interrupted, her tone steady and overly informative. "Actually, Blue, Aquitarian reproduction is neither haphazard nor ritualistic. It involves structured genetic compatibility assessments, followed by a controlled reproductive pairing process. Coral beds are not involved."
Yellow's hands dropped from her face as she gawked at Echo, her mortification intensifying. "Echo! That's not helping!"
Echo tilted her tone ever so slightly toward contrition. "I believed clarification would address the misunderstanding."
Before Yellow could respond, the air in the room shifted subtly, and a faint shimmer illuminated the corner. Nova materialized, her holographic form sharp and deliberate. Her gaze swept over the scene with detached amusement, and her faint smile carried an unmistakably calculating edge.
"Unbelievable, perhaps," Nova interjected, her voice smooth and unhurried, "but not entirely without merit."
"Unbelievable, perhaps," Nova interjected, her voice smooth and unhurried, "but not entirely without merit."
Yellow's mortified hues deepened as she whipped around to face Nova. "What?! What does that even mean?!"
Nova's holographic form flickered slightly as she stepped closer, her expression calm but her eyes glinting with unsettling curiosity. "I merely suggest that the structured approach of Aquitarian reproduction could offer valuable insights for cross-species genetic integration. Imagine the potential: the adaptability of a human, combined with the aquatic resilience of an Aquitarian. Such offspring could bridge the gap between land and sea, offering unparalleled control over Earth's ecosystems."
Blue blinked, his grin slipping into something closer to outright disbelief. "Hold on. Are you seriously suggesting that I—"
"Your unique physiology and neural sync rate," Nova continued, as if his objection were irrelevant, "make you an ideal candidate for such a hybrid endeavor. And Yellow's genetic lineage offers traits highly complementary to this objective. It is a logical strategy. Sentimentality is not required—only efficiency."
Yellow's skin rippled with a chaotic swirl of colors as she gaped at Nova, clearly caught between fury and absolute mortification. "This is insane! You're insane! That's not—this isn't—NO!"
Blue, recovering from his shock, leaned back with a faint grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Alright, Nova. Let's say for argument's sake I even considered this—which I'm not—what's the plan? Do I take Yellow out for dinner first, or do we just skip to the genetic engineering?"
Nova tilted her head, her faint smile turning almost amused. "Dinner is unnecessary. If efficiency is the goal, I could prepare the necessary genetic templates immediately. However, if you require caloric replenishment to maintain optimal performance, I've reviewed your familial recipes. I could synthesize cannolis based on your mother's specifications."
Yellow made a strangled noise somewhere between a groan and a yell, her hands flying to her head. "I cannot believe this is happening."
Blue snorted, finally leaning into the absurdity of the situation. "Cannolis, huh? So, I get dessert and a eugenics pitch all in one sitting. You know how to make a guy feel special, Nova."
Nova's gaze didn't waver. "Efficiency, Blue. Your mother's recipe is not only calorically dense but also a preferred choice according to your neurological reward centers. Replenishing your energy reserves is a practical necessity."
Yellow turned to Blue, exasperation radiating off her. "Please tell me you're not considering this. Any of it."
Blue chuckled, his grin turning lopsided. "Don't worry, Yellow. The only thing I'm considering is how many cannolis it takes to survive another conversation like this."
Nova's form flickered as she stepped back, her tone cool and unperturbed. "As you wish, Blue. But should you reconsider, the genetic advantages of a human-Aquitarian hybrid remain considerable."
Yellow groaned audibly, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You're all insane."
Blue's grin widened as he shrugged. "Maybe. But at least we're well-fed."
Yellow inhaled deeply, her skin gradually settling into steadier hues. She shook her head with a faint exhalation, the motion dismissive. With a flick of her hand, she waved the conversation away. "Forget it. Let's refocus. I didn't come here to argue about Nova's priorities, why Pink looked so smug coming out of the medical bay, or whether cannolis are better filled with cream or ricotta. I came because we need Nova back in the simulators."
Blue leaned back against the console, arms crossed, his gaze steady but distant. "Nova's been occupied. You know that."
"I do," Yellow replied, stepping closer, her tone sharpening. "But you know as well as I do that without her, these anomalies are a nightmare to sort through. Echo might be better at drawing from the big picture—he sees the forest for the trees. But Nova? She's the one sorting the building blocks, laying the foundation, and fitting the pieces together so the rest of us don't get lost. These distortions? They're deliberate, Blue. I can feel it."
Blue raised an eyebrow, though his expression didn't change. "Deliberate?" he asked, his tone even but edged with curiosity.
Yellow nodded, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Terrain doesn't change on its own. Enemies don't suddenly abandon their instinctual behavior in high-stress situations. And don't get me started on the Grid disruptions—they're too perfectly timed to be random."
Blue tilted his head slightly, his tone still calm but carrying an undercurrent of interest. "Sounds like you've been busy."
Yellow's jaw tightened. "Busy running in circles. And Nova? She'd have picked this apart already if she hadn't been babysitting Pink."
Blue exhaled slowly, his gaze finally meeting hers. "She wasn't babysitting. Pink decided to push her neural sync rate, and Prism couldn't handle the adjustments safely. It's dangerous for an AI to rebuild neural pathways when it relies on the brain to function itself. Nova had to take over."
Yellow's skin shifted, faint streaks of red rippling through the gold as her expression hardened. Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and unyielding. "You're good at skimming the surface," she said, her voice low and laced with quiet challenge. "But there's more underneath, isn't there?"
Yellow's skin flickered briefly into faint gold as she processed this. "I didn't realize the risk was that high," she admitted. "Prism's handled recalibrations before, but this?"
"Not like this," Blue replied smoothly. "Pushing the rate that high while the brain's still active? It would've overtaxed Prism—or worse. Nova ensured it didn't turn into a disaster."
Yellow's frustration deepened, her skin darkening faintly as she stepped closer. "And how far did Pink push it?"
Blue shrugged faintly. "Enough to keep Nova tied up for three days. She's stable now, though."
Yellow exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Great. But while Nova's been tied up, these anomalies haven't stopped piling up. And I'm not just talking about quirks in the data, Blue. Whoever's doing this, they're escalating."
Blue's gaze sharpened slightly, though his tone remained calm. "You're not wrong. And you're not the first to notice."
Yellow blinked, her skin rippling with muted lavender as suspicion crept into her tone. "What are you talking about?"
"Servo," Blue replied evenly. "He flagged these patterns during the interrogations."
"Servo?" Yellow echoed, her brow furrowing. "Who the hell is Servo?"
"Let's say he's a contractor," Blue said carefully, his words measured. "Not someone tied to the Alliance or the Rangers. He's... independent. Been analyzing patterns since the tribunal, but he keeps his distance for a reason."
Yellow's skin flickered faintly with lavender, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Keeps his distance?" she repeated, her voice edged with suspicion. "That's a convenient way of saying you're not telling me the whole truth."
Blue's expression didn't waver, though the faintest flicker of tension crossed his jaw. "It's the truth you need for now," he replied evenly, his tone cool but unyielding.
Yellow's fists tightened at her sides, her voice hardening. "And you didn't think to mention this earlier?"
Blue's expression remained calm, though his tone carried a biting edge. "Would you have listened? You were too busy accusing me of high treason and having tea with the Elvish Queen. Telling you about Servo wouldn't have made a difference."
Yellow's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue the point. Instead, she pressed on. "What did he find?"
"Distortions," Blue replied, his tone steady. "Patterns that don't belong. A lot of what you're seeing now, he saw too. He's been tracking them since the helmet camera footage was added to the archives after the jungle op."
Yellow's gaze narrowed, her tone growing sharper. "Then why haven't we seen his findings?"
"Because Servo doesn't work for us," Blue said bluntly. "He works for himself. And he doesn't share unless he decides it's worth the trouble."
Yellow exhaled sharply, her frustration evident as her skin shifted into steady gold. "So what do we do? Wait for him to come to us?"
"No," Blue replied calmly. "We keep doing the work. Keep pulling at the threads. Servo's not going to solve this for us, but his findings are out there. And when they align with what we're seeing? That's when it matters."
Yellow lingered for a moment, her expression tight, before stepping back. "Fine. But when Nova's caught up, I want her in the simulators immediately. We don't have time to keep waiting for answers."
"You'll get them," Blue said, his tone carrying a note of finality. "But not all at once."