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The afternoon had the rare quality of feeling unclaimed. Mega City’s skyline sat clean and bright under a cloudless stretch of blue, and for once, no alarms blared from Dr. Light’s comms, no urgent summons crackled over the police band. A day like this was too good to waste, and the loose consensus had been to just go out — wander until they ran out of interesting places to be.
They started in Blue Bomber Park, where the air smelled faintly of cut grass and vendor food drifting from the pathside kiosks. Roll and Rock walked ahead, Roll absently shaking a bag of birdseed she’d picked up for the pigeons. Blues trailed just behind, chewing on something in the casual, too-slow way of someone pretending they weren’t enjoying it. Tempo matched his pace, occasionally flicking a crumb toward a daring sparrow. Chelsea, talking with her hands, was in the middle of recounting a story to Alan and Vesper Woman about a customer who’d once mistaken her for an actual salon stylist.
Kalinka listened with an easy smile, the tension that sometimes clung to her posture notably absent. She wore a thin red jacket against the mild breeze, her hair pulled back, and every so often she’d chime in to poke fun at Chelsea’s over-dramatic delivery.
By late afternoon, they’d migrated to the downtown mall. The food court buzzed with overlapping conversations and the scent of fried food. Blues had claimed a seat with his arms folded — and a paper boat of fries balanced in front of him.
“I thought you didn’t want in on the digestive system upgrade,” Tempo said as she slid into the chair opposite him.
“I don’t,” Blues said, not moving his hand away from the fries. “Just… testing it.”
Chelsea leaned over to Tempo. “Testing it for science, clearly.”
Kalinka laughed, spearing a piece of fried tofu from her own bowl and flicking it across the table toward Rock, who caught it in his mouth with a victorious grin.
It felt… normal. Warm. Safe.
Then the holo-screens overhead flickered, and the mall’s ambient hum dipped as a crisp-voiced anchor replaced the music feed.
“…security forces continue to monitor the situation following the reported sighting of Dr. Albert Wily in the southern district—”
The rest of the sentence dissolved into a high, flat ringing in Kalinka’s ears.
Her grip on the fork slipped, metal clinking sharply against the bowl. The chatter around her smeared into indistinct noise — too many voices, the clatter of trays, the hiss of the fryers. The smell of oil and garlic, once inviting, turned heavy and sour in her stomach.
Her pulse thudded hard in her throat.
The light from the holo-screen glared in the corner of her vision, the anchor’s mouth moving silently now. She could hear herself breathing, fast and shallow, as if the air had turned too thin to fill her lungs.
She pushed back her chair. The scrape was louder than it should’ve been. The crowd seemed closer, their voices pressing in.
“Kalinka?” Rock’s voice — but distant, muffled under the ringing.
Tempo was suddenly right in front of her, crouched low enough to catch her gaze. “Hey. Look at me.”
Her own hands were trembling. She didn’t know what she was saying — maybe nothing at all — but she gestured toward the glass doors beyond the food court.
“Outside,” Tempo said immediately, her tone brooking no argument. Roll was there in an instant, slipping her coat around Kalinka’s shoulders without a word. Blues moved to flank them, not touching, but placing himself just enough to shield her from curious stares as they guided her through the crowd.
The doors opened to the cooler bite of late-summer air. Out here, the noise thinned. The setting sun threw long, gold-edged shadows across the sidewalk.
They found a bench beneath a row of slender trees. Kalinka sat, pulling the coat tighter, trying to slow her breathing. Her throat ached from the effort of holding back tears.
“I’m sorry,” she managed, voice small. “I thought I was past this.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Roll said softly, her hand resting lightly on Kalinka’s shoulder.
“It was just his name,” Kalinka said. “Not even him. Just… hearing it. And I was right back there. The blacksite. The raids. Thinking I’d be taken again. That I wouldn’t—” She stopped, the rest catching in her throat.
Blues’ voice was quieter than usual. “You’re not the only one who still hears him when he’s not there. It sticks. You don’t just turn it off.”
Tempo crouched again, staring at Kalinka with steady eye contact. “You’re here. With us. That’s what matters.”
Chelsea knelt beside them too, her expression softer than her words. “And if Wily tries anything in public again, I’m tripping him with my handbag. I don’t care how much it weighs.”
A breath escaped Kalinka — half a laugh, half a sob.
Vesper finally stepped closer, her tone deliberate and calm. “You’re allowed to feel this. One moment doesn’t erase all the strength you’ve built.”
Another voice — warm, accented — joined the circle. “She’s right.”
A robotic preteen in a school uniform approached, her eyes kind. “DIN-001: Ivory Inafune, though Rock knows me as Magic Woman. I’ve fought Wily with him once. Thought I’d left those battles behind. But memories don’t work that way.” She smiled faintly. “It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
Kalinka let out a shaky breath. The ringing in her ears had faded, replaced by the steady sound of her friends breathing with her. The coat around her shoulders felt heavier now, but in a reassuring way.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Anytime,” Rock replied with an easy, lopsided grin.
They didn’t go back inside. Instead, they wandered toward Dr. Light’s lab, climbing up to the rooftop just as the sun melted into the city’s horizon. The air was cooler there, and the gold light painted everyone’s faces soft.
Kalinka smiled again. This time, it was steady.