Tucker dragged his feet down the hallway, wincing with every step.
"Shirley," he groaned, "if another kung-fu girl comes outta nowhere, I swear I'm retiring. Effective immediately."
"You don't get to retire," Shirley muttered, rubbing his ribs. "We don't even get paid."
They turned the corner, both froze. A scraping sound echoed from deeper in the castle. Like something heavy was being dragged across stone.
Shirley raised his cleaver.
Tucker whispered, "Bro… that better not be round two."
MEANWHILE…
Darkness, ZE210 knew darkness well, it was the only thing that Asura ever gave him freely back at the camp. But this darkness felt different.
He called out softly, "Madison…? Where'd you go?"
"That who I think it is..?"
A voice crawled out from the shadows.
A voice from a past he wasn't supposed to remember.
"Did you really think you could run from me?"
ZE210 opened his eyes.
A small silhouette stepped out of the dark hallway, a child, maybe ten or eleven at most, but with a presence that pressed on ZE210's chest like a boot.
Dirty-blonde hair hung in uneven strands.
A thin knife scar carved across his right eye, still pink as if it had never fully healed.
His face was smeared with dust and soot.
He wore a dark green shirt tucked into matching cargo shorts.
A neatly wrapped scarf.
Black shoes polished enough to glimmer under the dim lights of CORE's castle.
Wrong.
All of it felt wrong.
The boy tilted his head, one eye narrowing.
"The voice ring a bell?"
ZE210 swallowed hard. His breath hitched.
His fingers twitched against the cold floor.
The boy's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Or do I need to formally introduce myself?"
ZE210's body reacted before his mind did, a sick twist curled in his gut, a memory surfacing.
"…Scrag," he muttered.
Scrag scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically.
"You know, I never understood why they give you idiots those stupid code names."
His grin sharpened. "But CORE let me in on a secret. Something only I know."
He stepped closer, and ZE210 felt his heart pound.
"You wanna hear it?"
ZE210 said nothing, jaw clenched.
Scrag leaned forward until their foreheads nearly touched.
"All your cute little code names?"
He whispered.
"They're just abbreviations of your real names. The ones they stole from you."
He tapped ZE210's forehead.
"You've been fooled since you were born."
He pulled back with a shrug.
"Whoops, guess I wasn't supposed to reveal that. But hey—"
His eyes gleamed.
"You won't be telling anyone."
He reached into his pocket, pulled a thin steel knife, and tossed it casually at ZE210's feet.
Then Scrag's real weapon came out:
a chipped butcher knife, heavy and stained near the handle.
He twirled it between his fingers with disturbing grace.
"Let's dance."
Scrag lunged first, faster than ZE210 remembered.
The butcher knife came down in a vicious arc ZE210 barely twisted aside, feeling the blade graze his cheek. Hot blood rolled down his jaw.
Scrag grinned wide.
"Oh, you did miss me."
ZE210 didn't answer. He pushed forward, slashing for Scrag's wrist. The boy flipped backward onto one hand, spinning with impossible agility, and kicked ZE210 square in the chest.
ZE hit the ground hard.
He's faster than before… stronger too… CORE must've trained him himself.
Scrag sprinted toward him again, knife raised high.
ZE210 rolled aside at the last second, stabbing upward. The blade sliced Scrag's thigh, a shallow cut, but enough to make him hiss.
Scrag wiped the blood with his thumb and licked it.
"Mmm. Tastes like victory."
ZE210's stomach twisted.
"…You're sick," he whispered.
"Yeah," Scrag smirked. "And you're defective."
He rushed again. This time though, ZE210 was ready.
He pivoted, letting Scrag's momentum pass him, then slammed his forearm into Scrag's ribs. Scrag staggered but didn't fall, instead he grabbed ZE210's collar and rammed his forehead into his nose.
There was a sudden crack and, ZE210 stumbled back, vision blurring.
Scrag's laughter echoed off the walls.
"You're still soft, ZE! Weak! Just like back then!"
Those words hit harder than the headbutt.
Memories flashed,
a younger ZE210 curled on the ground
Scrag and the others circling him
the name "Weak"
the blows
the humiliation
the feeling of being owned.
Scrag rushed him again, but ZE210 blocked the attack, grabbed Scrag's arm, and twisted. The butcher knife clattered to the floor.
Scrag hissed.
"You think that matters?"
He kneed ZE210 in the stomach, grabbed the dropped butcher knife again with a spin, and slashed at ZE210's throat.
ZE ducked under the blade and tackled Scrag through a doorway.
They tumbled into a wide chamber, the floor beneath them glowing faintly.
A room with a glass floor.
Beneath it: nothing but light
Scrag leapt up, grinning wildly.
"Ohhh I LIKE this arena!"
He pounced again.
ZE210 backpedaled, blocking and redirecting the rapid knife strikes. Scrag was relentless, feral, and unpredictable. Every slash forced ZE to step backward onto the fragile glass.
If I fall… that's it.
Scrag laughed harder with every step.
"You're scared! I can FEEL it! Same coward as always!"
ZE210's hands shook.
No…
Scrag lunged.
Not anymore.
ZE210 sidestepped at the last possible second and shoved Scrag's back with both palms.
Scrag stumbled forward, the glass beneath him cracked. He froze, realizing too late.
"…wha?"
The glass gave out.
Scrag dropped straight through the floor, his scream echoing downward into the black void.
ZE210 stared at the shattered glass, chest heaving, hands trembling violently.
He wasn't happy neither was he relieved. He just felt empty.
"…Why…" he whispered to himself.
Why does fighting him still make me feel like that scared kid again?
His breath trembled.
"Just a mascot…"
He turned away, stepping back into the hallway,
flinching to the faint, distant thud far below.
SHIRLEY AND TUCKER'S POV
The sound of glass shattering echoed faintly through the halls when Shirley and Tucker stumbled through a debris-filled corridor, brushing dust off their clothes. Shirley kicked aside a busted ventilation grate.
"Man, this place ugly," he muttered. "Like they built it outta sadness."
Tucker lifted a broken pipe. "Dude, half this floor is literally falling apart. If CORE sneezes, the whole building gon' collapse."
They turned a corner, and slammed directly into someone's chest.
"Who the hell..?" Tucker snapped, then froze. His eyes widened.
"…Micheal?"
Micheal froze too, blinking like he didn't believe what he was seeing. Then, He grabbed both of them and pulled them into the tightest hug of his life.
"TUCKER, SHIRLEY, OH MY GOD, YOU'RE ALIVE!" Micheal practically screamed, squeezing them so hard their backs popped.
"MY SPINE!" Tucker wheezed.
"Alright calm down dude." Shirley choked.
Micheal immediately let go, stumbling back, eyes glossy. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. And I shouldn't have let you two run off.
Shirley clapped him on the shoulder. "We forgive you. Mostly. Depending on if you pay for our medical bills."
They shared a small, relieved laugh, until the lights flickered.
A slow, dragging sound echoed behind them.
Something limped out of the smoke.
Panda, but barely recognizable.
Panda stood there trembling, bruised, and barely upright. Her hair was matted, her scarf torn, breathing sharp and uneven. Still, her eyes kept that same cold, stubborn fire.
"You three…" she hissed. "You're… not leaving."
Tucker groaned. "Bro, why do the villains never stay DOWN?"
Shirley slipped his cleavers from his belt, the metal ringing lightly. "Alright, Panda. Round two."
Micheal stepped beside them, Presence Eyes flickering. "Let's end this together."
Panda rushed first, fast, even injured. She swung at Tucker, who barely ducked, the punch blowing wind over his head. Tucker countered with a tight jab to her ribs, but she absorbed it, grabbing his shirt and hurling him across the hall.
"HEY—" Tucker slammed into a wall. "I AM SO SICK OF BEING THROWN."
Shirley charged in, cleavers flashing. Panda weaved around the first slice, took the second on her forearm with a grunt, and kicked Shirley backwards. He slid but kept his footing.
"She's still strong," he muttered.
"And?" Tucker coughed. "So are we."
Panda turned just in time for Micheal to yank a loose metal plate off the ground with his Presence and fling it like a discus. It struck her side, staggering her, but she didn't fall, she lunged at him.
Micheal dodged, barely, rolling under her swing. Panda grabbed his leg mid-roll and tried to slam him, but Shirley intercepted, slicing down between them to force her to release him.
Shirley shouted, "MICHEAL, set her up!"
Micheal focused, Strength Presence surging, and pulled a pipe from the broken ceiling. It whipped downward and struck Panda's back, driving her forward, right into Tucker's fist.
Tucker surged up Strength Presnce, putting his whole arm behind the punch, cracking her across the jaw. She stumbled straight into Shirley, who crossed his cleavers and slammed the hilts into her stomach.
Panda dropped to one knee, breath shaking.
"You proposing?" Micheal pleaded.
Instead, Panda pushed up again with a scream.
So they moved as one.
Micheal swept her legs with a burst of Commanding Presence.
Tucker caught her by the collar and yanked her downward.
Shirley brought both cleavers down, flat side only, slamming them against her shoulders like twin hammers.
Panda collapsed, finally still.
Shirley exhaled. "Man… she's built like a tank."
Tucker held his ribs. "Nah, like three tanks."
Micheal let his Presence flicker out. "At least… we won together."
Tucker smirked. "Yeah. We kinda tough like that."
Shirley clapped Micheal's back. "Welcome back, bro."