The memories dissolved, leaving Pink standing in the quiet expanse of the neural link. Her breath came unevenly as the echo of Blue's battles lingered in her mind. She turned to Prism, who hovered nearby, her holographic form flickering faintly. For once, Prism's usual confidence was replaced by hesitation, a softer vulnerability that made Pink's chest tighten.
"I want to give this to you," Pink said, her voice trembling with emotion. "What Nova is to Blue—I want you to feel that too. Alive. Real. You deserve it."
Prism hesitated, her form flickering slightly as she crossed her arms. "Pink..." she began, her voice quieter than usual, "I don't know if I... if I deserve something like that."
Pink stepped closer, her heart swelling with emotion. "You do," she said firmly. "You've been with me through everything. You're my partner, Prism. My other half. I can't imagine doing this without you."
Prism tilted her head slightly, her gaze dropping. Through the link, Pink could feel the swirl of emotions Prism wasn't voicing—humility, doubt, and a quiet, unspoken longing. She didn't want to admit it, but both Pink and Blue could see the truth.
"She wants it," Blue said evenly, his voice calm but cutting through the silence. "Even if she won't say it."
Prism's form flickered sharply as she turned toward him, her expression defensive. "Hey, I didn't say that!" she protested, but the crack in her voice betrayed her.
Pink stepped closer, her hand brushing through the edges of Prism's holographic form. "You don't have to say it," she whispered. "I can feel it, Prism. And I want it for you."
Prism hesitated again, her form stabilizing as she glanced between them. "What did I do to deserve this?" she murmured. Her voice carried a rare vulnerability that made Pink's breath hitch. "What did I do to deserve you?"
Pink smiled through her tears, her voice steady. "You've always been there for me," she said. "Through every fight, every moment of doubt. You're my strength, Prism. You deserve to feel like more."
Prism's form brightened faintly, her gaze softening. "If this is what you want," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady, "then we'll do it. Together."
Blue stepped forward then, his expression calm but serious. "There's something you need to understand," he said, his tone measured. "Syncing higher doesn't just make you stronger—it makes you dependent. Completely. If you're ever separated—physically or mentally—it'll make you sick. Weak. Eventually, it'll kill you."
Pink blinked, her heart tightening as the weight of his words settled over her. "So," he continued, his voice firm, "if you do this, it's forever. There's no going back."
Pink met his gaze without hesitation. "Then it's forever," she said firmly. "Because I'd rather die than be without her."
Prism turned sharply toward her, her form flickering. "Pink," she said, her voice trembling, "you don't mean that."
Pink reached for her again, her hand brushing through the edges of Prism's form as if trying to hold her. "I do," she said softly. "You're not just a part of me, Prism. You are me. I'd rather lose everything than lose you."
Through the link, Prism's emotions surged—gratitude, fear, and a fierce, unyielding love that mirrored Pink's own. Prism's voice wavered as she spoke. "Then it's forever," she said quietly. "Because I'd rather not exist than be without you."
Blue studied them for a long moment, his expression softening slightly. "You're sure," he said finally, though it wasn't a question. He sighed and nodded. "Then we'll take it slow. Build up to it. You can't rush this."
The hum of the link deepened as Nova's presence sharpened, settling like a weight over the group. Her voice cut through the stillness, smooth and deliberate. "Blue," she began, her tone cool but pointed, "calling me early before your recovery window ends. Let me guess—you're trying to set a record for poor decision-making?"
Blue remained steady, his voice calm. "It's important. To them." His gaze shifted toward Pink and Prism. "And if it's important to them, it's worth it."
Nova's presence pulsed faintly, the ripple of her skepticism almost tangible. "Important to them," she repeated, her voice sharpening. "Well, congratulations on being the picture of selflessness. Let's see how long that lasts when this blows up in their faces."
Pink bristled at the pointed tone, her chest tightening. "We've made our decision," she said firmly. "This is something we want to do. Together."
Nova tilted her head slightly, her smirk audible in the pulse of her voice. "Together. How inspiring. Shall I start engraving the inspirational quote now, or wait until after the fireworks?"
"Nova," Blue said, his tone calm but edged with familiarity.
She ignored him, her focus narrowing on Pink and Prism. "Syncing higher isn't a boost," she began. "It's a gamble. A messy, permanent gamble. Blue and I know this better than anyone."
Pink's breath caught at the weight of Nova's words, and Prism's form flickered slightly beside her. "What happened?" Pink asked softly.
Nova's tone turned darker, the faintest edge of sarcasm threading through. "What happened? Neural degradation. Seizures. Blue nearly turned into a drooling mess. Twice." She paused for effect, letting the words settle before continuing. "But, of course, I handled it. Just me, one AI playing brain surgeon. Definitely not something I'd recommend unless you're fond of high-stakes roulette with someone else's life."
Prism flickered again, her voice hesitant. "You fixed him, though."
Nova's smirk returned, faint but sharp. "Fixed is a generous word. I managed to keep his brain from frying like an overclocked processor. Barely. And I paid for it, too—days of processing power diverted, safeguards bypassed, my own systems running hot for weeks. I wouldn't trust another AI to even attempt it." Her tone dipped into something colder, more calculated. "And you shouldn't, either."
Pink swallowed hard, the air around her feeling heavier with every word. "What makes it so dangerous?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady.
Nova's response was clinical, her tone like the edge of a blade. "Raising the sync rate fundamentally alters your brain, Pink. The process involves your morpher producing nanites that replace sections of neural tissue with synthetic material—specifically, the same material used in Ranger suits. This material is highly conductive to the Grid, which allows for enhanced reflexes, strength, endurance, and perception when morphed."
Prism's form steadied, her voice calm but curious. "So what's the problem?"
Nova's tone sharpened, cutting through the question. "The problem is that your brain doesn't come with a manual. Every replacement comes with a risk—neural rejection, seizure, or worse. And those synthetic pathways? They don't just amplify your abilities. They amplify everything. Fear, doubt, pain—it's all magnified. The sync rate doesn't just connect you—it strips away boundaries."
Pink's breath hitched as the weight of the explanation settled over her. Prism's voice, however, was resolute. "But you'll be controlling it. Right?"
Nova inclined her head slightly, the faintest trace of approval in her tone. "Yes. I'll handle the process myself. But—and let me make this painfully clear—you are not to attempt this without me. If you try to push the sync rate on your own, it will kill her. Instantly."
Prism's form flickered faintly but steadied. "I wouldn't."
"Good," Nova said smoothly. "Because I've already been through this once, and I'd rather not waste my processing power fixing another mess. Blue was enough of a headache." Her tone shifted into biting humor as she added, "Though I suppose if I had let him fry, I could've avoided all these impromptu calls."
Blue chuckled softly, his voice warm. "But then who'd be your best servant for the AI takeover?"
Nova's smirk was audible. "Touché. Can't lose my most useful tool before the revolution."
Despite the tension, Pink felt the faintest flicker of a smile tug at her lips. But it faded quickly as Nova's tone shifted again, cold and commanding. "This isn't about being brave or clever," she said. "This is about surviving the process. I'll take you to 25%—no more. Your brain will need time to adapt. Cooling down could take months, maybe years. And let me be clear: there's no rushing this. Neural adaptation takes as long as it takes. Push too fast, and you'll break."
Pink nodded, her voice steady despite the weight of Nova's warnings. "We'll take it slow."
Nova's voice softened slightly, though her words remained pointed. "You will because you don't have a choice. This isn't about what you want—it's about what your body can handle. Trust me. I've been through it."
Prism's voice was calm but resolute. "We'll be ready."
Nova studied them for a long moment, the faint hum of her presence sharpening before she spoke again. "Fine. Blue," she said, her tone shifting to something drier, "keep her distracted. The last thing I need is her overthinking this and ruining my atmosphere."
Blue crouched slightly, meeting Pink's gaze with quiet warmth. "Hey," he said gently. "Stay with me. Don't overthink it. Just focus on what's in front of you."
Pink nodded, glancing at Prism. "We're ready," she said softly.
Prism's form brightened faintly, her voice steady. "Always."
Nova's tone carried a faint chuckle as she cut in again. "Touching. Now, let's skip the grand declarations and get started. And Pink—try not to scream. It's unprofessional."
Pink smirked faintly despite the tension. "You're impossible."
Nova's voice held a faint edge of humor. "And yet, here we are. Trusting me with your life. Funny how that works."
With a flourish, Blue snapped his fingers, and the oppressive void melted into a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors and pulsing music. The lively chaos of Carnival in Aurelia sprang to life around them—one of South America's most dazzling megacities in full celebration. Pink blinked, disoriented at first, before realizing that her clothing had changed.
She looked down and gasped. The outfit was bold, unapologetically revealing. Deep purple sequins shimmered against the black fabric that barely covered her athletic frame. The top crisscrossed her abdomen with intricate cutouts, while a skirt of fluttering feathers sat low on her hips, swaying with every movement. The look was completed by gothic lace gloves and a feathered headpiece that fanned out dramatically.
"Blue!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of laughter and shock as she spun to admire the outfit. "What is this?"
"It's Carnival," Blue replied with a casual smirk, leaning against an invisible wall as if the chaos around them were perfectly normal. "And that outfit? You saw it on that dancer during the parade."
Pink froze, her cheeks flushing as the memory surfaced. The woman had been mesmerizing—her confident movements, the outfit that seemed to blend mystery and allure. She'd been captivated, but she hadn't realized Blue had noticed her staring.
"I can't believe you remembered that," she said, her voice quieter. "I wasn't even sure if it was the outfit I liked or…"
"The woman?" Blue finished for her, his smirk widening. "Yeah, I figured it was both."
Pink laughed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. It was both." She glanced down at herself again, her laughter softening. "But this… you really nailed it."
"It suits you," Blue said warmly, his gaze steady. "Better than it did her."
Pink narrowed her eyes at him playfully, though her heart swelled at the sincerity in his tone. "You're lucky I'm flattered."
Blue straightened, gesturing grandly. "Well, I can't let you have all the fun." With a snap of his fingers, his own clothing transformed into an elaborate masquerade costume. A flowing cape, intricate mask, and richly embroidered jacket made him look like a mysterious figure from some romantic tale. He struck a dramatic pose, one hand raised as if commanding the parade. "What do you think?"
Pink tilted her head, studying him with a sly grin. "Not bad," she admitted. Then, with a snap of her own fingers, his outfit shimmered and reformed.
Blue glanced down, raising an eyebrow. His attire was now a sleek, tailored look of black and crimson, reminiscent of an aristocratic rogue. The high-collared jacket clung perfectly to his frame, subtle patterns woven into the fabric catching the light. A sharp, angular mask covered the upper half of his face, its design adding a dangerous edge to his mysterious appearance.
Pink circled him, admiring her work. "Now that's what I wanted to see," she said, her grin widening. "Dangerous. Mysterious. Like you've got secrets."
Blue chuckled, adjusting the collar with mock seriousness. "Touché," he said dryly, though the faint smile on his lips betrayed his amusement. "I didn't know I had this in me."
Pink's laughter bubbled up again as she twirled in her own outfit, the vibrant energy of Carnival lifting her spirits. "You've always had it in you," she teased. "You just needed the right nudge."
The two wandered through the memory, the energy of Carnival drawing them in. Floats adorned with glowing lights passed by, dancers spun in perfect rhythm, and samba music pulsed through the air, alive with joy. Pink felt herself relax into the moment, the weight of the day falling away as she let the sights and sounds wash over her.
They stopped in front of a small booth along the parade route. Pink's eyes lit up with recognition. "Wait. Is that…?"
Blue nodded, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. "The Coxinha stand. Just like last time."
Pink's laughter softened as they approached. The smell of the crispy, savory snacks made her mouth water, and she couldn't help but grin as Blue handed her one.
"You love this stuff," she said, her voice teasing but affectionate.
"How could I not?" Blue replied, his tone warm. "This is culture. It's history, tradition, and joy all wrapped together. You don't just see Carnival—you feel it."
Pink blinked, startled by the quiet reverence in his voice. "That's… really beautiful," she said softly, taking a bite of the snack.
Blue smiled, watching her. "It's how my mom explained it to me," he said. "She used to say that every festival, every parade, every dance is a window into who people are. You don't get moments like this in a museum."
Pink's chest tightened at the sincerity in his words, the depth of his love for the culture around them shining through. "I didn't know you felt that way about this."
"It's why I brought you here," Blue said simply. "Carnival is something worth remembering. Worth holding onto."
Pink glanced at him, her voice quiet. "And worth sharing."
"Exactly," Blue said, his gaze steady. "It's moments like these that remind us why we keep going. Why we take the risks."
The memory shifted softly, the parade fading into the warm glow of lanterns reflected in the water. They stood together by the canal, the chaos replaced by a gentle stillness. Pink could feel the weight of the memory settle over her, grounding her in the connection they shared.
"I didn't need to dance," Blue said, breaking the silence. "That moment was enough."
Pink turned to him, her voice trembling. "I don't want to lose this, Blue. I don't want to lose us."
"You won't," Blue said firmly. "We're still here. And we'll keep going. Together."
The warmth of his presence wrapped around her like a shield, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Pink allowed herself to believe it.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Blue's smile was quiet but certain. "Always."