Gabriel was dreaming again.

  But it wasn’t the kind of dream that brought peace.

  He was drowning, drowning in blood. The closer he got to bursting out of the sea of crimson red the deeper the sea stretched.

  When he finally got out gasping for air. A horrid scene waited for him. A man standing on top of a mountain of corpses drenched in blood.

  Gabriel recognized some of those faces. Auburn brown hair and hazel eyes with flies strolling across it. Mara was there too her small head split open like it was struck by a sledgehammer.

  Gabriel tried to scream. He could feel it crawling up his throat, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

  He tried and tried but he could neither tear nor shriek. Somehow it made it hurt even more.

  "Focus, Gabriel," a voice called faintly, almost desperate. "I need you to look past this."

  Ansel sat hunched in front of a monitor, the blue glow painting sharp lines on his gaunt face. A cerebral sensor clung to his temple, flickering erratically as it mirrored Gabriel’s neural feedback. The moment Icarus’s image surged forward in Gabriel’s subconscious, the signal spiked violently.

  "Damn it!" Ansel cursed and yanked the sensor off.

  Inside Cerba's main chamber, Gabriel convulsed violently. The incubator fluids formed, his back arching as bubbles frothed around his form. A metallic hiss followed as the chamber drained. He was unconscious when they pulled him out, his body limp and twitching. They laid him on a table, cold monitors blinking to life beside him.

  Ansel looked like hell. His tie was half-tied, his sleeves rolled, and a week’s worth of stubble weeding at his jaw. He hadn’t left the lab in days, obsessing over Cerba’s calibration, trying to make it compatible with memory-walking. But every test led to one thing: chaos.

  Rivera sat beside him, arms crossed, her dark uniform creased but crisp. She watched Gabriel carefully.

  "I don't get it. Cerba should be compatible," she said.

  "It's not Cerba. It's the boy," Ansel muttered, rubbing his face. "There’s only one thing in his head now—and it’s Icarus."

  "I looked into their connection," Rivera said, frowning. "There’s nothing of particular interest. The boy won’t talk about it either."

  "Then we’re stuck," Ansel said. "If he doesn't get past it, we can’t move forward."

  Rivera sighed. "Let’s take a break. Give him some time to recover."

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  Ansel grunted in agreement and returned to his machine, toolbox in hand. Rivera’s gaze lingered on Gabriel. He spasmed again on the table, the monitors screeching briefly before settling. She remembered Ansel’s warning: Somehow mentioning Icarus’s name had triggered some of Gabriel’s memories.

  When they had first mentioned him Gabriel had an incident that left him in a coma for an entire day—and when he woke up, she could've sworn something had changed.

  He was somehow even more cold and detached than before. If that was even possible.

  With a sigh, she turned to the nurses. "Take him to his room once he’s stable."

  Later, as the lab emptied, Rivera stood with a hand on her belly. She waddled toward the exit and then turned.

  "Can I get you something to eat, Annie?"

  "Coffee. Black," he replied, his voice dampened from beneath the machine.

  The dark-haired woman that often lurched behind Ansel was there too perched in the rafters overhead, silent and still. Rivera looked up.

  "You want anything?" Rivera asked and the woman just stared back before stepping back into the shadows without a word.

  "Anti-social witch," Rivera muttered.

  ***

  Rivera had found her way to the cafeteria. As usual, it was quite packed, but at the mere sight of her all sorts of guards and officers immediately stood at attention.

  With a faint smile, she dismissed them and made her way to the counter. It was then her transmitter buzzed to life.

  It was Bulk.

  'Dammit Kathlyn!'

  She was meant to be down there 30 minutes ago. If wasted any more time she'd be an hour late.

  She still had to get Ansel his coffee so she did the only thing an authority figure could do– handed the cup to a junior officer and said "Take this to Ansel. Its life pretty death and tell him I’ll check in later."

  The young man's face had paled considerably but he was already off.

  She then wandered deeper into the facility, soldiers and staff bowing as she passed. Some officers didn’t. She didn’t care.

  It was then something, someone caught her attention, someone familiar, but before she could reach them, a man stepped forward.

  "Thank you, ma’am, so much for what you did for my mother."

  She smiled kindly, nodding, but her thoughts lingered on the face she thought she’d seen. She tried looking past him but before she could whoever she thought she saw was already gone.

  "Must be seeing ghosts," she whispered, hand resting on her belly.

  He moved further into the facility when suddenly, a crash. A man flew out of the adjacent room, slamming into the wall with a grunt. Bulk. The mountain of a man grinned as he picked himself up.

  He saw her the next moment and said;

  "Don't worry too much, just sparing with your daughter," he said cheerfully.

  Rivera’s eyes narrowed. The air was cold. Too cold.

  Kathlyn burst out of the door, glowing with pride.

  "Mum! Did you see that!!"

  Rivera smiled, but her eyes swept over the room with quiet caution.

  "And her school work?" she asked Bulk.

  "Well..." Bulk scratched his head.

  Kathlyn tugged her mother’s hand. "Will Dad come for dinner tonight?"

  Rivera’s smile faded slightly. "He’s very busy. But Uncle Bulk will take you to him when you're ready."

  "Really?!" Kathlyn beamed.

  "Why don’t we grab a bite first?"

  The three walked together, Kathlyn skipping ahead.

  "What about the kid?" Bulk asked.

  "Not good. Ansel’s tried everything, but I think it’s coming from Gabriel himself."

  "Is it Rust?"

  "We’re not sure. It’s definitely psychological. Ansel says his power works fine, but Gabriel’s interactions with Cerba are... violent."

  Bulk was quiet for a while. Then, simply:

  "Whatever he recalled from his last must have really left him shaken. If you ask me I say he needs to vent. Whatever’s broken in him, he needs to let it out."

  Rivera’s eyes sharpened. An idea blooming.

  "I think I might actually have an idea."