Neeko wakes up because the sun is screaming.
This is rude. Sun should not scream. Sun should be warm and polite and maybe apologize first. Instead it punches Neeko straight in the eyeballs and says *good morning, little lizard*, and Neeko says back—out loud, because mouth works before brain—
"Ow."
The ground is hard. Not soft jungle ground with moss and secrets and bugs that whisper. This ground is dry and sharp and smells like… old fire. Like something burned a long time ago and never forgave the world for it.
Neeko blinks. Sky is too blue, like it is showing off.
She sits up too fast. That is a mistake. Head does a spinny thing, there is a noise in her skull, a rattle, and then—memories? No. Not memories. Shapes where memories should live.
Neeko touches her head. Fingers come away red.
"Oh," Neeko says. "That seems… bad."
She looks down at herself. She is wearing clothes that are not Neeko clothes. Brown and dusty and stiff. Human clothes. Big boots. A belt with little shiny circles on it. (Bottle caps? Neeko does not know yet. They look happy. Like they want to be friends.)
Her hands are human hands right now. No scales. No claws. Five fingers, boring but useful.
Neeko tries to remember choosing this shape.
She cannot.
That is… also bad.
The place around her slowly resolves into meaning. Little wooden buildings. Fences. A well. A sign leaning sideways like it is tired of standing up straight. Far away, hills baked flat by the sun. The air hums. Not magic hum. Electric hum. Angry hum.
A town. A very small town. Neeko knows towns. Towns are good places to hide. Towns are where people can pretend they are not scared.
She stands. The world wobbles but does not fall over, which feels like a win.
She pats herself again.
There is a gun in a holster on her hip.
Neeko freezes.
Gun.
She stares at it like it might bite.
"I do not remember having you," she whispers to the gun.
The gun does not answer.
There is a memory-shaped hole where *how Neeko got here* should be. But there are other feelings, drifting just under her skin like shy animals.
Fear. Yes. That one is loud.
But also—curiosity. Warm and buzzing.
And something else. A tightness in her chest that says *you barely survived something terrible, and the world does not care*.
Neeko decides she does not like that feeling. She tucks it away.
Voices drift from one of the buildings. Human voices. Neeko walks toward them, because that is what you do when you are alone and bleeding and don't have any memories. Inside the building is cooler. Smells like alcohol and dust and old wood. A human woman looks up from a counter. She has kind eyes and hands that know what they are doing.
"Well, I'll be," the woman says. "You're awake."
"Yes!" Neeko smiles immediately. Big smile. Friendly smile. *Please do not ask questions smile.* "Awake. Very awake. Sun helped."
The woman blinks.
"…you remember me, right?" she says gently.
Neeko blinks. "Well…"
"Name's Sunny Smiles. You're in Goodsprings."
"Why am I in Goodsprings?"
"You were shot in the head, left for dead."
Shot.
Ah.
That explains…
Well, nothing at all really.
Neeko nods like this is very normal information.
"I'm Neeko," she says, because that is her name, and it feels important to keep at least one thing. "I think."
Sunny Smiles smiles a little wider, like she understands that sentence more than she should. "Well, Neeko," Sunny says, "you're lucky. Real lucky. That robot found you just in time."
"Lucky" is a funny word. And so is "robot." Neeko thinks of bones in the jungle, picked clean by animals that were also lucky, once. Just with no "robot" to save them. "Lucky is good," she says. "Neeko likes lucky."
Sunny checks her bandages, gives her water. The water tastes metallic, but makes Neeko happy. She is surviving. Then as Sunny talks—about the town, about geckos nearby (Neeko perks up at this; they sound like cousins, maybe), about someone named *Doc Mitchell* who stitched her up—Neeko listens very carefully.
Not just to the words, though.
Also to the *shape* of Sunny. How she stands. How she talks. How her smile curves when she mentions danger like it is an old neighbor.
Neeko feels it then. The tug. The itch beneath her skin.
She could be Sunny Smiles.
Not now. Not yet. But she *could*.
That thought is comforting. But also terrifying.
Because if Neeko can be anyone…
Then who was she, before the bullet? The real Neeko?
Later, outside, the town spreads before her. Simple. Fragile. Alive in that stubborn way. People wave. A dog barks. Wind moves through dry grass like the world is breathing carefully.
Neeko squints toward the road leading out of town. It stretches on and on, cracked and broken, like it was once important and is now a sad joke everyone keeps telling. Somewhere out there is the person who put a hole in Neeko's head. Somewhere out there is the reason she is lost and alone.
Neeko touches her chest. Her heart is beating fast. But it is beating.
"Okay," she says to the world. "Neeko is awake again. The important thing is that Neeko is still alive. Neeko will figure this out."
She smiles again. Softer this time. To herself.
"Just… maybe not all at once."
The Mojave watches her. Silent. Patient.
Like a predator that knows before its prey that the hunt has already begun.