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all first aid feels is pain.
a lot of pain, in fact. his nerves feel like they had been lit on fire; tender, fragile neurons disintegrating among embers and shocking his whole body.
distantly, he feels blood dripping down his nose, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten hit in the frontal lobe and it caused some kind of haemorrhage.
now that he thinks about it, his hearing is off; like his head had been wrapped in cotton, protected from all the monsters out there, sound muffled and muted and…
there’s fluid leaking out of his ears.
okay, not good.
a short beep of a siren jolts him awake — and by good timing too, because he probably would have died from his injuries if he were to fall asleep.
[ WAKE UP ]
blearily, he cracks an eye open at the screen over his head, vision blurry and black around the edges.
“where…” he slurs.
movement jerks him to the side, and first aid claps a hand across his mouth to prevent himself from puking. the blood from his hand trails down his nose, seeping in between the loose cracks of his fingers.
first aid pulls away, a blood-smeared hand hanging limply in the air as he stares at it in disbelief. at the same time, there’s the sound of a body being cut cleanly in half and the sizzling of flesh from electricity accompanying it.
[ OK. THEY’RE GONE. PROBABLY. ]
a maintenance arm pushes first aid down to recline against the pilot seat.
“i’m not… dead?” the words feel like lead sheets being excreted through his mouth.
[ FUCK NO. WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? ]
first aid doesn’t reply. instead, he looks at his hand again. then he reaches the other cleaner one to his ear, only to feel a thin kind of fluid coating it. he can’t clearly see the colour, but with his medical knowledge that was barely being put to use nowadays, he knows that it’s cerebrospinal fluid.
okay. head trauma, spinal injuries.
okay.
“i think i’m about to,” he says.
[ NOT ON MY WATCH ]
and right as vortex flashes this on the screen — the mecha whirls around on the battlefield, steps smooth and swift, taking out a horde of ugly quints in the way. he sidesteps a snarling jaw and pries it apart with his hands, tearing the body into halves all the way until where its waist should be.
[ UGH. THESE FUCKERS ARE LIKE COCKROACHES ]
vortex peeks inside for first aid to take a look; by shoving his entire head in, visor on the outside glowing an eerie red in the pit of the quintesson’s maw.
“i–i don’t think —”
[ YOU DON’T HAVE TO ], the static on the screen buzzes in what should probably be an eyeroll.
[ JUST SHUT UP AND COME LOOK. YOU’RE A BIG BOY NOW, AREN’T YOU? ]
first aid, despite himself, shrinks in the pilot’s seat. he doesn’t feel all too attached to his body, yet he can still feel the torrent of bile and stomach acid mixed with his lunch threatening to claw up his esophagus. for some reason that he’s currently struggling to pinpoint with the haze in his head, is why the pain had numbed all of a sudden.
it’s simultaneously a good thing and a bad thing. ‘good’ because he’s not in agony anymore and he can actually breathe, somewhat, with his broken vertebrae no doubt; but ‘bad’ because the pain gives him clarity. it maps out some kind of scale for him to assess his condition, and without it, he doesn’t know if it’s getting worse.
“i don’t want to throw up in you,” first aid says, voice hoarse.
vortex slashes another quint without even moving his head before he finally replies.
[ YOU WON’T. I GOT YOU ]
first aid gives the camera above his head the most incredulous look he can muster, but he has a feeling that he just looks like a pathetic wet cat instead.
mostly because vortex laughs.
his internal machinery vibrate and shake, a telltale sign that first aid has recognised to be laughter. he’s still laughing even as another quint charges at them — momentarily peeking his head out of the other quint’s body cavity — but his blade soars through the air all the same, cutting through acrid stench of blue quintesson blood and slashing its stomach.
its intestines spill out like a disgusting fountain of viscera.
first aid shudders and looks away from the visor-window.
vortex’s laughter dies down, but a hydraulic arm snakes up the pilot seat to caress first aid’s thigh — whether it’s for consolation or to just feel him up, or both — he appreciates the gesture nonetheless.
[ ALRIGHT, THEY’RE REALLY GONE NOW ]
first aid uncurls from the very uncomfortable position he had contorted himself in on the pilot seat, tentatively peering out the visor lasered with crimson.
he’s pretty sure his injuries are serious and he might actually be in huge danger if they don’t get medical attention right away, but the pain has somehow vanished and the adrenaline in his veins is still keeping him awake, so hey, everything should be fine, right?
“how come i don’t feel the pain anymore?”
the hydraulic arm stops in its tracks and bubbles of [...] appear on the screen above his head. vortex shoves the head back inside with such ferocity it almost causes first aid to nearly tumble out of his seat if it weren’t for the harness uncomfortably digging into his skin, even through the tacky pilot’s uniform.
[ I ISOLATED IT. CAUSE I NEED YOU AWAKE ]
felix frowns. “isolated it?”
[ I’M A GHOST LIVING IN A MONSTER-KILLING MACHINE, DO YOU REALLY WANNA QUESTION THE MINDFUCKERY GOING ON AROUND HERE? ]
“good point.” sighing and grimacing when he hears a rib creak, first aid supports his upper half with his forearms and looks at the mess of gore splattered by the mech’s servos.
[ SO… WHAT ARE WE LOOKING AT? :3 ]
first aid ignores vortex’s attempts of trying to appear cute. “it’s a little too dark to see,” he holds his breath as the mech’s head jostles around inside the abdomen of the beast, like a maggot trying to worm itself in. “help me out a bit here?”
[ I ONLY GOT BLINDING RED LIGHT TO SHINE IN, SWEETHEART. ]
felix’s face scrunches up in contemplation. “that’s fine. it reminds me of deep-sea exploration, actually.”
[ NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ], the screen says, before, true to vortex’s words (or message in his case) — beams of red light glare so brightly in front of his eyes that first aid flinches back.
the sound of a cuckoo bird tweeting — the one used in cartoons whenever a character would get hit hard on the head — loudly rings out in the cockpit, courtesy of the annoying soundboard that vortex had somehow stolen from the internet.
“you’re not funny,” felix deadpans, rubbing his eyes and blinking away colourful static shapes.
[ INFRARED FOR YOUR THOUGHTS? ]
finally, finally, the light gets directed into the mushy goopy insides of the quint and instead of directly bursting into fractals in the cockpit and damaging first aid’s very precious ocular receptors.
it barely gives a clear vision of the quint’s internals if at all, but some clarity is better than nothing, first aid muses. he can’t look anymore deeper unless vortex is willing to tear the thing in half even more and step inside like one would wear a second skin.
the thought of being fully surrounded and encapsulated by a dead quintesson husk, however fascinating as they are, drives a chill down first aid’s spine. maybe another day when he can actually stave off the compelling nausea and when he isn’t actually about to succumb to his injuries.
but from here, as it is, and even with blurry vision — first aid’s lips quirk up into a smile — a few of his hypotheses about the integration of their biological systems had been proven true. of course, he’d have to actually dissect specific parts out for proper confirmation and further clarification, but…
[ THEY’RE SO FUCKING UGLY ] appears on the screen, snapping felix out of his thoughts.
“yeah,” first aid agrees easily, smile growing wider. although his head feels fuzzy and heavy, he still manages to blindly feel around for his sketchbook that had toppled over onto the floor by the base of the pilot seat.
[BUT YOU? YOU’RE SO GORGEOUS, BABY ~]
in response and having already been used to vortex’s constant flirtations, first aid runs a hand across the console, stopping by one of the command buttons to lightly circle it before pulling away. vortex jerks, almost dropping the desecrated quint corpse.
[ TEASE ]
“i’m only responding appropriately.”
[ WE’LL CONTINUE THIS LATER ], flashes on the screen, and then an internal camera moves up and down to take a good look at first aid, who is cradling his sketchbook and fumbling for the pencil he had stuck inside the spiral spine.
[ CAUSE I KNOW YOU WANNA NERD OUT ON ME RIGHT NOW ]
“i told you not to call it that,” first aid rolls his eyes, before blinking and twitching at the weird feeling he got from doing that. he had almost forgotten he was still severely injured, and vortex was only keeping him here to extend their close, connected proximity away from the control centre. he’s also quite certain that if it weren’t for the drift, he’d probably have been thrown onto the floor like a ragdoll by now, with the numbness of paralysis creeping up his extremities, synapses misfiring and muscles spasming.
either way, despite his reluctance for the phrase, first aid stares hard at the view before him from the cockpit, hand gliding on the paper on autopilot. his mouth moves automatically as well with, “so you remember last time when we found out that they actually housed two circulation systems?”
[ YEAH? ]
felix tilts his head in some vague direction that vortex can’t pinpoint, because the camera lingers on him in his intense focus and then turns to look at the mess externally.
[ GIVE ME MORE THAN THAT. C’MON ]
drawing hand abruptly stopping, first aid brushes stray red hair from falling into his eyes; the little strands that somehow escaped the confines of the helmet. “well, i thought it was just because they were advanced as an extraterrestrial species, but based on their internal structure… it looks like they actually house for two organisms in one.”
[ WHAT, LIKE, A PARASITE? ]
felix taps the pencil against his chin. “maybe? or maybe this is a special case and we got some infected quintesson on our hands. either way, if you just —”
he gestures to the nearly-invisible seams covering several intertwining blood vessels that connected both systems. “if you cut this open here, we might see the other hidden half… if, you know, you didn’t bang it up too much.”
[ WANNA KNOW WHAT I’D LIKE TO BANG? ]
“vortex!”
in their weird shared mindscape, there’s a ghost of a giggle reverberating in his brain. it’s so loud and everywhere all at once that first aid winces.
but vortex obliges all the same, letting felix guide him into making precise incisions and peeling skin away from unrecognisable, foreign flesh. they both watch, enraptured, as vortex manages to grab ahold of its spinal cord and rips the other organism out — the one that had been residing within the quintesson. covered in scales and bulging eyeballs to boot.
vortex observes as felix, despite already being delirious with his internal haemorrhage at that point, quickly sketches the view from the visor in a frenzy. when he looks up again, his eyes sparkle with excitement, and maybe vortex ends up taking a few hundred pictures. who cares.
when they’re back at the base, felix is practically dragged out by a group of medics looking warily around vortex’s cockpit.
and he lets them step inside, with their dirty boots and not-felix bodies, only because it was a medical emergency for his twink.
but as the last medic on duty all but jumps out of his cockpit and onto the platform — the glass slams shut, the sound echoing and ringing in the enclosed space of the hangar. it had almost crunched down on the medic’s leg, with them only being unscathed due to being a split second faster.
vortex– the mecha– strains against the harness holding his arms and legs for good measure, as if he was going to jump out of the cables, and it prompts the entire spooked group to race down the stairs, onto the catwalk and into the hangar’s medbay.
his mechano-sensors already miss the barely noticeable weight of felix in his cockpit.
you see, vortex had only prolonged their little adventure on the battlefield earlier because he knew that with how badly first aid had become injured, he wouldn’t be able to see him physically — or feel him through the drift — for weeks.
so he had isolated the pain, crammed it into a separated sensor-net somewhere and then stuffed it into a box that contained many other felix-things he savoured.
but when it had become apparent that first aid’s head lolling about was not from exhaustion-induced sleep and was actually because he was losing consciousness and about to black out, vortex relented and brought them back.
now all that’s left is to stalk his beloved felix through the hangar’s poorly secured cameras.
waiting is torture.
colour vortex surprised when first aid had flung himself out of the medbay and into the mecha-terminal part of the base, limping all the way to his mech and ignoring all the stares he got along the way.
and only after two months in recovery!
that doesn’t sound right, or even remotely normal. oh well, he’ll ask first aid about it later. what matters is that he’s finally here.
coming to a sudden stop and almost tripping over his own feet from the inertia, first aid looks up at vortex, with his intimidating height looming over him and all. his gaze swivels to the flight of stairs he needs to climb to reach the cockpit, panting all the while. he frowns, and his eyebrows furrow.
it’s cute, it really is.
about 15 minutes of watching poor felix struggle to trudge up the stairs in his state, vortex doesn’t even play their usual game with the cockpit glass. he keeps it fully open as felix drags his feet inside, holding onto one of the walls for balance and collapsing into the pilot seat afterwards.
[ CAME TO SEE LITTLE ‘OL ME? ]
struggling to inspire, first aid clutches onto the armrests of the seat, then paws at it. the pilot harness drops from the ceiling right in front of his face, and he immediately grabs onto it like he’d die without it. vortex lets him catch his breath.
“i…” first aid heaves, gasping for air, then trying to exhale slowly to calm his respiration rate somewhat. “once they let me walk around a… bit, i booked it to come see you.”
[ I’M FLATTERED, BABE ♡ ]
an internal camera zooms in on the way felix’s chest rapidly rises and falls.
“you…” felix coughs and instantly gulps down more air.
if vortex could, and he absolutely would, he’d sneak in those little surgery cameras into felix’s trachea and down his bronchi, watch his lungs expand and contract. and if felix had been wearing the helmet, he’d climb over his side of the mindspace, fill up every crevice with his presence, settle right around his cranial nerves so he could breathe along with him.
“you must be getting… antsy, sitting around here,” first aid says, patting the harness after loosening his grip. “no one to help you stretch your joints. nothing to kill and no one to torment.”
[ YOU’RE RIGHT :( ], the screen flashes, and the mech slumps a little in its restraints, trying to convey wistfulness.
[ I WAS SUFFERING. IT WAS SO TERRIBLE. TWO WEEKS OF JUST WATCHING CAMERAS AND SCROLLING ON TWITTER. LISTENING TO SWINDLE ARGUE, OVERHEARING PHARMA SCOLD THE OTHER MEDICS. SIMPLY AWFUL. ]
first aid giggles, twirling the harness against his hand in consolation. “there, there.”
commotion is heard over at one of the exits of the hangar, the one where first aid had run out from. they were probably searching for him, and no doubt they’d try to look inside his cockpit to see if first aid had hidden in there. and he did, obviously, but nobody was getting in or out.
[ THEY’RE LOOKING FOR YOU, AIDY ]
“let them,” he says, loosening his posture and letting the tension melt away. when the helmet drops from the ceiling, first aid hastily clasps it on and plugs in. “you’ll keep me safe.”
as soon as the connection is established, felix squeaks at the sudden, almost ticklish sensation of another face nuzzling and nipping his neck.
“that i will, darling,” vortex purrs, cradling felix close to his body from behind and deeply enjoying the growing flush that paints his cheeks and ears red.
felix’s arm loops behind to hold his face, so vortex spins him around without warning and grins when he collides with his chest, due to their height difference even through the drift.
sagging in his arms, felix lets himself be embraced by the ghost in the machine. “i don’t think i’ll ever get used to this… you’re both hot and cold at the same time.”
“what? like bipolar? from that katy perry song?”
two eyes peer up below vortex’s chin, blinking in confusion. he brushes away some of the red hair that had fallen onto his face. “i meant– um, the tactile sensation… or the lack thereof? with the drift and all—”
vortex cuts him off and pinches his cheeks. “kidding, aid.”
“sorry,” he sighs, going back to burrowing his face in vortex’s chest to save himself from the embarrassment that vortex desperately wants to squeeze in his claws. “i’m loopy from the painkillers.”
“ooh?” vortex’s arms slide down felix’s sides to squeeze his hips. “now that i gotta feel.”
when his talon-like fingers dig into the metaphysical skin of felix, vortex worms his way into his brain, into his central nervous system, deliberately stroking each neuron and its neuroglia — the contact sharp and electric — if for nothing else but to fuck with felix.
his pilot jolts in the seat, clinging onto the harness like a lifeline, most probably imagining that it was him clutching onto vortex. in a way, he was, through the drift.
for vortex, violating felix’s biological functions and physiology never gets old.
lost in their shared connection, so wholly blurred with not being able to tell where one started and the other ended, they both don’t hear the angry stomping on the stairs and the banging on the cockpit glass that’d never budge for as long as vortex willed it.
“what a shame,” vortex thinks, as he licks a stripe across felix’s frontal lobe, with the latter shivering beneath him.
there aren’t any alarms blaring in the hangar. hell, first aid hadn’t even been on the roster for today. vortex had switched him out with blurr — after first aid with his weak little lamb legs had fallen over and faceplanted on solid ground.
yet here his twink is, after escaping containment bedrest and casually flipping through his already full sketchbook in vortex’s cockpit and muttering to himself. he’s sitting sideways on the pilot seat, with his gangly legs hanging over the edge of the armrest, almost curled up like a shrimp.
it’s as clear as day that first aid had no proper friends and considered vortex pleasant company. or, at least, was somewhat dependent on him.
all the more for vortex.
“do you think there’s anyone out there eating the quintessons?” felix asks, stopping at the page where he had drawn about the parasitic… thing hidden in an unlucky quintesson’s hide.
[ IF IT’S EDIBLE, SOMEONE SOMEWHERE’S EATEN IT. MIGHT ENJOY IT, EVEN ]
first aid hums, running a hand across the semi-crinkled page of textured paper. “i suppose you’re right. i wonder what they taste like.”
[ HUNGRY FOR ALIEN FLESH? ]
shaking his head, first aid glances up at one of the internal cameras. “not particularly. i just think that once humanity manages to push the quintessons back a lot more, that we’d start taking advantage and being greedy and… well, exploiting whatever the mecha kill.”
the harness and safety cables that barely keep vortex restrained — pretty much only there for decoration — creaks and sways. pilots and engineers walking below him on the catwalks stare up at him in fear.
[ IT’S HUMAN NATURE AFTER ALL ]
first aid shudders. “i hate to imagine all the markets being stocked with quintesson flesh one day. eugh.”
[ HOLDING A LOT OF HOPE FOR HUMANITY, HUH? I THINK WE’RE GONNA FAIL SPECTACULARLY. MASS EXTINCTION AT ITS FINEST, BUT MOST OF US ARE GONNA GO DOWN FIGHTING. I KNOW I AM ]
“that’s so bleak,” first aid frowns and shifts in the seat.
[ ONE OF US HAS TO BE. PLUS, LOOK AT COMMAND NOW. THEY’RE SCRAMBLING, TRYING TO REPLICATE ANOTHER HAUNTED MECH LIKE ME AND BRAWL. CAUSE THEY KNOW WE’RE DOOMED OTHERWISE ]
first aid’s expression contorts in discomfort at his train of thought. “you mean your team,” he says slowly.
[ YEAH. THE REST OF ‘EM ]
sensing that that had been the end of the topic at hand, and that vortex would probably become really agitated if he were to probe more, the conversation lulls for a few long moments — before first aid pipes up again.
“i was just wondering about the future,” first aid says. “on what’d happen if we win. when we win. there’s so much we don’t know about the quintessons still, and even with our on-field vivisections…” his twink trails off, biting his lower lip.
[ YOU’RE NOT SATISFIED ] pops up on the screen overhead.
“i… um, yes,” first aid curls up more in that uncomfortable position that looked simply detrimental to his spine. sometimes vortex had to wonder which one of them had the medical background and a license. “of course i’m not. i feel like no matter how many times we cut up a quintesson, there’s always something… changing, about them. it’s never concrete. i have theories and all, but it shouldn’t be this abstract with the amount of information we’ve already gathered.”
“and we get that they’re intelligent, right?” felix continues on, waving his hands around, sketchbook left propped open on his stomach. “sentient, even. and, listen, sometimes people disappear along the coastline. we don’t know if they died or if it's something else exactly, but the truth stands: there are never any bodies littering the beaches. at first i thought they had gotten swept up in the sea, drowned, and then sunk like rocks, even if corpses usually float on the surface. but the more i thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense.”
vortex lets felix ramble on. occasionally, he liked listening to his pilot going on his scientific tangents and theories and overall just infodumping to him. sometimes he’d throw around terms he wouldn’t understand, but felix would backtrack and explain them in simpler words.
it’s the little things that count.
[ GO ON. WHY DIDN’T IT MAKE SENSE? ]
“these are just rumours, but…” first aid wriggles around a little so he can cross his arms over his chest. “after the coasts were deserted, the body count decreased significantly. most people sought shelter and protection in the city zones, or joined the military to become pilots or part of the anti-quintesson force in general. but there’s been reports of nightwalkers, vortex. dozens of people getting up in the middle of the night to sneak outside, climb past the city walls and wander into the sea. like they’re being lured in. some old security cameras caught it, since for some strange reason… these people knew just how to avoid being caught for the most part. of course, there were eyewitnesses too.”
the hydraulics in vortex’s joints lock up at his words. [ WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING? ]
“i’m saying that there’s something seriously wrong here,” first aid stresses. “i don’t think quintessons are naturally intelligent to the degree we’ve seen, in the way they manage to counter the mecha within a day or two. they adapt, like all sentient living beings do, but how, at such a fast rate? it’s almost too quick to be true.”
felix takes a deep breath to steel himself. “i think… that the quintessons have a hivemind of some sort. that they somehow lure humans in to maybe — i’m not really sure — to absorb them? integrate them into a collective consciousness that would drown an individual voice out? or eat them and their brains for the same thing.”
[ HMM. THEY HAVE BEEN ACTING REALLY WEIRD LATELY. LESS MONSTROUS AND UNPREDICTABLE, MORE HUMAN-LIKE. YOU THINK THEY’RE TRYING TO IMITATE US? ]
“maybe,” first aid mumbles. “we’ll need to conduct more on-field testing for this, but for now, it’s safe to say that they’re evolving at a rapidly alarming rate for us to handle. and if they’re learning to become like us, to act like us, then don’t you think it’d be the perfect chance to expect the same vile behaviours humans keep within themselves? taking advantage. exploiting us. eating us.”
[ IT WOULDN’T BE TOO FAR-FETCHED. AND SINCE EVERYONE’S BUSY TRYING NOT TO DIE, OR FIGHTING FOR GOVERNMENT CONTROL HERE, NO ONE’S REALLY NOTICING SMALL SHIT LIKE THIS IN THE BACKGROUND EXCEPT FOR YOU. GUESS THIS SHOWS THAT MY AIDY’S SO SMART ~ ]
first aid gives him a lopsided smile. “thank you. you’re on board with this, right? i have lots of things to confirm the next time we’re dispatched, and i’ll need your help.”
[ LIKE ALWAYS? ;) ]
“like always,” first aid nods. “i actually hate to imagine what would happen if i’m right. i wouldn’t even know how to tell command. everyone would freak out.”
[ IF THEY CAN’T STOMACH IT, THEN THEY SHOULD BE THE NEXT SET OF QUINT CHOW ]
“what, like human sacrifices?”
[ SURE ]
felix groans and thumps his head against the backrest of the seat. “as a, um… medic, i’d like to avoid that outcome if it comes down to it.”
[ THEY DON’T EVEN APPRECIATE YOU FOR YOUR TALENTS. EVEN PHARMA THINKS YOU’RE COMPETENT, HE’S JUST A MASSIVE BITCH ]
“massive bitch is an understatement,” felix snorts. “sometimes i feel like someone had stuck a rod up his ass and just left it there.”
[ CAREFUL. ALL YOU MEDICS ARE CRAZY. HE PROBABLY LIKES IT ]
“ew. i don’t like the visual image i got.” face scrunching up in distaste, felix lightly smacks the seat and hopes vortex can feel it. he probably could, with whatever minimal sensors there were, because the cockpit shifts around a little like the mech had thrown its head back in a laugh.
the helmet drops from the ceiling, eliciting a minor jump from first aid. he closes his sketchbook and drops it by the base of the pilot seat, then takes the helmet and just… holds it there.
[ WHAT’S UP? DON’T WANNA PLAY WITH ME, BABY? ]
first aid pauses for a second, face going blank.
“i’ve been thinking, ‘tex. today i’m the butcher, tomorrow i might be the cattle.”
silence lapses between them, and first aid doesn’t meet his gaze; or, well, the camera’s. he’s momentarily taken aback with how his twink had just blurted something like that out. the whiplash stuns him, makes him unable to fire back a quip. all that buildup with quintesson biology speculations for the statement of the day from felix, see.
he supposes it's not just the quintessons changing — felix is too, in subtle ways like this, words and thoughts sounding so very wrong. unsettling, if he had to put it objectively. and if he had to guess, it was due to his influence whenever first aid plugged in — his rotting dreams and desires being meshed together with his pilot's.
there isn't a mechanical joint in his body telling him that felix is still as uncorrupted as the day they met. he's cut up so many monsters that the routine bleeds into his daily life, even when he interacts with others — they're the blood, the dense smell, the automation, the absence of thought.
it's music to vortex's own audio receptors really; the realisation that he's been tainting first aid since day one — but it's also why first aid was being ostracised more frequently.
two freaks in the same pod or whatever people said.
vortex doesn't believe in gods, but perhaps this is the closest to digital divinity he'll ever get.
recovering from his stupor, vortex’s internal machinery jostles around in another laugh, hydraulics and pistons moving in unison.
[ A TOAST TO HUMANITY’S DOWNFALL THEN, AID? ]
although his reaction time lags, felix smiles and leans back into the pilot seat, putting the helmet on.
with the phantom sensation of hands wrapping around his waist and a mouth kissing his neck to accompany him, felix loses more of himself within the mindscape.