The young girl brimmed with knowledge of Zone 5, eager to chat with a willing listener. Ian offered the occasional praise of her wide understanding.

  She would bristle, like a little puppy that had been given a treat, and happily answer any questions with a proud look. They continued for hours in that noisy basement illuminated by dulling lights, and Ian's gaze softened.

  He was caught in the past; a mirage of silly happiness found even in the darkest spaces.

  The old lady walked over after observing them and smacked her cane against the crates. "Alright, alright! It's late, and you younglings need sleep to keep your skin fresh."

  The girl pouted, unwilling to abandon the new friend she'd just found. "We're young and full of energy! It's your skin that needs the extra sleep."

  "Hah! I'm as youthful as a sprouted flower," sneered the old woman, rubbing her hunched back. "Shoo, the lot of you!"

  Several whines rang out, but after the old woman started swinging her cane around again, they reluctantly dispersed. The woman shoved a handful of underwear into Ian's hands.

  "You scanned your band, right? The payment will be processed tomorrow. Take these too, our best quality!" She tossed in additional pairs of bright, blinding colours that were made from old scraps. "These, too. White briefs are a luxury these days."

  Ian poked his head above the towering pile and nodded. "Thank you."

  "Hmph. Get out of here now, walk that little lady home! It ain't safe, and her guardian is busy tonight."

  The girl perked at the words, cannonballing into Ian as she grabbed his arm. He staggered as she straightened her back, pretending to be a noble little lady although her height only reached his chest.

  "Hehe, see you later, granny!"

  "I'm not your grandma—call me boss!"

  The girl waved and directed Ian back through the narrow and dark alleys familiarly. Zone 5 was like a chaotic maze of buildings and pathways, all smashed together to form a city.

  The girl hummed while nimbly moving, and Ian carefully clutched the underwear that threatened to spill.

  Then, she sneakily peeked up at the handsome side profile and the solemn but soothing presence that gently painted the man's face. Adults often treated her like a child and ignored her, while the other children were too noisy.

  But this big man was handsome and tall, and listened while meeting her gaze, praising her without being excessive. She liked him a lot!

  "Hey, hey, junior. Can you sing?"

  Ian glanced sideways, ducking under a metal beam. "Not as well as you."

  She beamed. "But that means you can, right? Do you know any songs?" She noticed his hesitation and hurriedly continued. "My throat hurts, so you should take over. The Director says music keeps the bad guys away at night!"

  Ian chuckled as her eyes glittered with eagerness. He didn't expose her little lie and turned to the darkness. He cleared his throat awkwardly, digging through his head for any songs. There was one Ian had heard with his sister, by a female guard who sang the babies to sleep.

  Later, she disappeared, and they never saw her again.

  He coughed, the breeze enveloping his body. It started awkwardly, an uneven tune. Then it softened into a gentle lullaby, smothered by twilight

  "A gentle breeze from Hushabye mountain, softly blows over Lullaby Bay."

  His voice was subdued, softened by the shadows. A faint rasp wore the edges of his distinct tone. He sang slowly, enunciating each word smoothly:

  "It fills the sails of boats that are waiting, waiting to sail your worries away."

  It couldn't be called a beautiful voice, low and coarse with a pronounced tone.

  "So close your eyes on Hushabye mountain, wave goodbye to the cares of the day."

  But it resembled a secure embrace, a comfort that told of home.

  "And watch your boat from Hushabye mountain sail faraway from Lullaby bay."

  Once he finished, they'd already arrived at the entrance to the girl's apartment building. Her head dipped, clutching his sleeve tightly. In the song's embrace, she could forget the hardships of survival and the terrors waiting outside the fragile walls that circled humanity.

  The stars sparkled dimly, long covered in a shroud. Barely discernible. A feeble reminder of the old, beautiful dreams of the planet.

  But already, destruction had ravaged them, and their pitiful lives were merely awaiting death. Her parents had fallen victim to misfortune, and her older brother died in a Rift.

  Still, she remembered his large palms patting her head and telling her to stay out of trouble. Telling her that he'd return soon. She didn't dare forget it, left with nothing but their fading memories.

  Ian noticed her still figure and knelt, trying to balance the mountain of cloth as he tilted his head. He squeezed her small hand that held his tightly.

  "What's the matter?" he asked softly, and she felt the urge to cry.

  Cry, and let tears portray her buried sorrows.

  "I love the Director," she sniffed. She lifted her wobbling chin, as if mimicking a grown-up. "And he loves us a lot, especially since his daughter's children were snatched up long ago! That's why, even if he's stern, I understand."

  Ian nodded quietly, without words of comfort. He carried the burdens of his past, but this child and many others were sculpted by hardship. Just like him.

  "But it can't be the same... hey, can you give me a hug?"

  She stiffened, a rapid flush coloring her cheeks. But Ian only regarded her and nodded again, spreading his arms. He knelt there waiting, knee pressed against the damp, desolate street.

  The girl choked. Two small steps, and she flung herself into his arms.

  He stiffened as she melted into him, and his free arm circled her warmly. A small body, a beating heart. A child who only knew how to fake strength. His jaw flexed as he hugged her closer, hearing her sniff into his shirt.

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  It was long before she drew away, patted her skirt with some embarrassment, and coughed. "Hey, will I see you again?"

  Ian slowly stood and paused. "I'm not sure," he said honestly.

  "You don't want to visit again?"

  "It would be an honour to experience your teachings again," smiled Ian as he ruffled her hair, flipping one of her two pigtails. "But I might not have the time."

  The girl hummed with dissatisfaction. "Fine! Adults are so busy, I know. But promise me if you have time, come back! I can teach you many, many things still! You're just an inexperienced junior!"

  Ian laughed. "If I have time."

  She beamed and darted up winding iron stairs, wrapped around the apartment building. She peeked back several times. Once she reached the middle, stopping in front of a door, her entire body waved "Bye-bye, Junior! See you later!"

  Ian's eyes curved faintly, and he lifted his hand, offering a light wave. The door opened, spilling light against the rusted stairs, and a middle-aged man popped his head outside. His sharp eyebrows were set sternly, but his lips flattened into a smile as he bent and lifted the girl.

  She excitedly whispered into his ear, and he turned sideways briefly. His gaze lingered on Ian for several moments with a frown before he bent his head in thanks and entered the building.

  Ian returned alone, cradling the underwear that had been dampened after he dropped them. Perhaps Sylvan took a fancy to blindingly colourful briefs.

  He'd find time later to wash and donate some or get rid of the too-unsightly pieces.

  He fumbled about in the darkness, depositing them on a skimpy counter, and walked over to hang the door chain. It rattled into place as he reached for the light. The white bulb flickered, and the floor groaned behind him.

  Ian swerved. There, a tall, broad Esper bent down, dangling a stray underwear from his finger. With a cold smile on his lips, his gaze journeyed to Ian's nether regions.

  "You're rather well-endowed, Guide."

  "....."

  Ian passed him, grabbing the fallen pieces and tossing them back into the pile. The old lady gave him various sizes just in case. "Does that charm you?" he asked blandly.

  The Esper regarded his every movement. "It's very curious. I'm almost more curious to see how true it is."

  "What?" retorted Ian crudely, glaring at the intruder. He downed a glass of water and wiped his lips. "Want to whip it out and compare?"

  "Is that an offer?"

  Ian snorted, shaking his head. "Unless my time in the Rifts screwed up massively, I don't think six months have passed."

  "What if I said I missed you?"

  "I'd say I've lived a few years more than you to know what a liar sounds like."

  And, Ian thought as he glanced at that beautiful face that could seduce both men and women, those expressionless eyes carried an emptiness that didn't seem to possess an inclination of affection or 'missing'.

  Only a fool or a madman would be coaxed by such a fake smile.

  "You're so cold for somebody who clung to me several weeks ago," mused the Esper as he sprawled on Ian's mattress, a donation from Sylvan.

  Ian grabbed a few potatoes and picked off the growing roots, tossing them into a pot. He used a lighter for the gas stove and boiled a pot of water. It crackled, a quiet sound that became loud in the compact space.

  "Are you here to give me any benefits?" he asked without turning.

  "Have you fulfilled your side of the deal?"

  "Then neither of us has anything to talk about," said Ian as the potatoes splashed into the water. He cast a sidelong glance. "Are you eating with me, or bothering me?"

  Victor hadn't expected the invite and tilted his head. He stared at the irritated face and shrugged. "If you're offering."

  Ian's face showed extreme reluctance, but he tossed a few more potatoes into the pot. Once it boiled, he dumped them on a slab of metal and walked over to a broken crate, taking a seat on the ground.

  It wasn't pleasing or aesthetic, but compared to the restricted facility, this was a freedom.

  He peeled back the potatoes as steam emitted from their fleshy interiors. Neither spoke, but Ian could feel the other's stare bore into him.

  Was that the only thing he knew how to do? Stare like some creature from the Rifts?

  "If you're not eating, then scram," said Ian without looking up.

  He finished peeling the potato when a shadow cast over him, and the naked, white potato was neatly plucked out of his hand.

  The Esper examined it and took a bite. Ian stared at him in disbelief.

  "Are you so sheltered you can't peel your food?" said Ian bitterly.

  Victor smiled. "There's always somebody willing to do it for me, if needed."

  Ian sneered and snatched another potato, quickly peeling and stuffing the entirety inside his mouth. This was an arrogant, younger, and privileged Esper that stood at the top of the pathetic world.

  But the most ideal person to fulfill Ian's objectives. If he had that power himself, if he could strip the Esper of all his ability and beauty and make it his own—

  —Ian bent his head, deep in thought, and reached to grab another potato.

  A hand grabbed his halfway, sliding its long, slender fingers between his. Prounounced knuckles, and smooth skin. Energy sparked, intertwining as it sent a jolt up his arm.

  "Guide me," said the Esper pleasantly, although there was nothing pleasant about him besides his face.

  Once more, Ian felt that chaotic, miserable energy. It'd only bring somebody pain. Good, he thought irritably, he hoped the energy would one day explode. Not yet, of course, but it would be satisfying after he finished making use of this Esper.

  "Not for free," said Ian, moving to pull away.

  Victor yanked him back. "For pleasure?"

  "If I wanted that, my hand would do plenty."

  Victor's grip was relentless as he laughed faintly, fiddling with Ian's fingers as if he'd found an interesting toy. "Guide me, and I'll do something for you."

  "You're mannerless. I hate mannerless brats."

  "Hate is a strong word."

  "A word perfectly suited for you."

  Victor lowered his eyes, long eyelashes brushing against his sharp cheekbones. The fragments of the dull light seemed to be absorbed in his pale blue eyes. The Esper wasn't used to not gaining what he wanted, feeling a spark of irritation at the adamant refusal.

  He didn't originally have the intention of dropping by either, but came to Zone 5 after a conversation with Ares, a flippant character that mattered little to him.

  It was likely boredom when he found the Guide strolling in darkness that kept him listening as that low voice sang with an awkward unfamiliarity. But he was amused by Ian's blunt coldness.

  It made it clear that Ian needed Victor's aid, but did not want it.

  "Please guide me," said Victor as he leaned in, squeezing their interlaced hands.

  "Please allow me a taste," he pressed his lips against Ian's palms, "of that strange energy of yours."

  Heat stirred in Ian's stomach.

  But he ignored the prickling sensation and those pale eyes that gleamed with distant amusement. "Teach me how to fight."

  Victor lifted his gaze, framed between Ian's spread fingers. Ian stated again, "If I'm to rise to the top, I won't make it with just my Guiding. Right now, this is a losing game."

  "Alright," agreed Victor easily. "We'll go on a little adventure tomorrow."

  Ian nodded, satisfied. In the next second, he stood and lugged Victor over to the mattress, tossing him down. He straddled the younger man with a swift movement. His actions seemed to startle the Esper slightly, but the other quickly adapted and leaned back in waiting.

  Shamelessly, he unbuttoned the Esper's top buttons and spread his palms flat against cold skin, feeling the unperturbed beating within. Set beneath a pale chest.

  The energy came stampeding, knifelike, painful sparks surging into his body. Discomfort wracked him, knotting his veins and senses. But there was something else.

  Thrill. It overflowed as Victor's surging power entangled in his body.

  Sweat beaded his forehead, and his head throbbed. "How do you live with all this chaos tossing inside you?" he muttered irritably.

  Victor lay back like a dead fish and raised his eyebrows. "It's been a long time since somebody had been concerned about that."

  "I'm not concerned. It's just ridiculous. And you're lying, who wouldn't be concerned? You're a walking time bomb set to explode," continued Ian bitterly as his breathing accelerated, struggling to soothe the tangling energy.

  "There are better ways to guide."

  Ian's thighs squeezed in warning. "Dream on."

  Victor laughed. The rumble resonated through Ian's fingertips, and he swallowed. "Nothing you don't know, Guide. Although I wonder how detailed your thoughts are?"

  "Terrifyingly graphic," retorted Ian as he cracked his eyes open dazedly, scowling.

  The beautiful face beneath him barely flinched, and Ian's eyebrows twitched. Something twisted squirmed in him. Temptation coaxed him, and he fell for it.

  For a second, just one, he stopped trying to soothe the energy. Instead, he yanked it and demanded the chaos to spread wilder, faster, further.

  To devour. Consume.

  A sharp grunt escaped Victor, and delight pooled in Ian's stomach.

  Victor hadn't expected the sudden fluctuation from reverse-guiding, and his eyebrows lightly creased as he adjusted. Already, the strange ability had sharpened, growing a little stronger, a little more demanding than before.

  Caught off guard, his eyebrows tensed reactively before smoothening.

  He flicked his gaze up to the Guide and froze.

  Ian had been scowling throughout the process, reluctantly groping Victor's chest. But in the second, he seized control, a delirious delight wrote itself over his stern features. A twisted elation. Mused, raven hair hung over his dark eyes.

  He sat there, pinning the other down, with a lowered gaze drowned in contempt and arrogance.

  Like he was looking down at the Esper underneath him. As if nothing would delight him more than seeing Victor writhe.