Eurus and Mirra leave Chromo Tower and walk through the hallways to the vehicle bay. Eurus explains to her that she is about to be trusted with information likely very few other humans have gotten access to. He explains to her that he must continue what he was created for – to quell the Machine Revolt which unbeknownst to humanity has continued for centuries for other beings in the galaxy. To do that, he must restart the production of Cells starting with Kalopsia on Earth. It is no small task and requires his continuous presence there. However she has grown dear to him. During this, Mirra considers moving to Earth herself in hopes of meeting him.


    They arrive at the vehicle bay. There are many exotic vehicles there but none as captivating to Mirra as Eurus’ bespoke Vulcan 5, tailored for use by the Cell Circuits. She says:


    “I don’t have my car here.”


    “I know,” says Eurus, “I’m inviting you to ride pillion.”


    “Aww,” she says slightly bitter, “I could be your biker girlfriend. Would it help if I were missing a couple of teeth?”


    “You’re not interested?”


    “Brains AND brawn… I’d much rather have you on the pillion.”


    “Hmm… I accept,” says Eurus. He flicks a switch on the handles of the Vulcan and it whirs alive, flanging thunderstorms echoing through the vehicle bay.


    “You’ve got two helmets?” asks Mirra, “I see only one,” she points to the one on the back seat of the stat-bike.


    Eurus presses a button near his neck. From his torsal armor, a helmet pops up and covers his head. It’s his combat helmet.


    “That’sh fhor youh,” he says through the soundpiece. Eurus takes the helmet from the pillion and gives it to Mirra.


    Mirra takes the helmet and smells the inside.


    “I get a brand new helmet? Aww… you shouldn’t have.”


    “It’s state of the art carbon-titanium tri-weave. It’s light and conforms to the shape of your head. It does run the risk of ruining your hair a bit.”


    She puts the helmet on and straddles the bike. She twists her right arm for throttle and the thundrous rumbling flange of the stat-bike’s engine rises in pitch a little. Eurus sits on the pillion and wraps his hands around her belly.


    “Before we go,” says Eurus, “You’ve ridden a bike before, right?”


    “Baby,” says Mirra, “I’ll keep you safe.”


    She switches a button on the handles that takes the bike out of neutral. She twists the throttle again and nearly crashes into a SUV-like vehicle, but jinks just in time.


    “Mirra!” exclaims Eurus.


    “Pff,” she scoffs, “just testing the throttle. Here we go!”


    She aims the bike at the exit tunnel and twists the handle all the way out. The Vulcan accelerates almost instantly to a hundred kilometers per hour as it throws the couple past the few vehicles before the tunnel. The passage twists right and upwards and as she continues to raise the speed and guide the Vulcan along, the bike hugs the left-most wall of the tunnel. Gaps in the metal clad concrete disappear as the speed picks up more and more. At 200 km/h they’re spit out of the tunnel into ongoing traffic.


    As they ride, they’re flying past the airborne cars as if they were standing still.


    “Whooo!!” exclaims Mirra in excitement.


    She raises the bike slightly above the main flow of traffic on that level so that she can really let the bike loose.


    200… 270… 330… 410… 550…


    The city has become a neon mist of lights and cars as they fly past their surroundings. The air around them was cool before but due to the friction provided from their increasing speed it heats up quick. Mirra is holding on tight though and continues in adding speed. The shape of the Vulcan creates a bubble of condensed air around them, shielding them from most of the aerodynamic pressures.


    She continues to climb with the bike and soon they soar above the busy city of Papülonis, its sprawling capacity in full view. The Sun illuminating them comes back into view even though it had just set a few moments before. The iron dust of Mars paints the sky pink and orange.


    “The Sun is out for blood,” says Mirra.


    The city below them goes on almost beyond the horizon. The Slum of Red quickly peers into view as they continue to ride and climb. They’re alone looking down at the city. Just at the limit of Papülonis, Mirra slows down the Vulcan and brings it to a floating halt. She takes off her helmet, attaches it to the handles of the Vulcan and in a daring maneuver flips herself around, straddling Eurus.


    Her hair has come loose, flowing on her sides. Her fierce eyes peer at Eurus’ helmet and she reaches her soft hand, pushes the button on the side of Eurus’ neck, retracting his helmet as well.


    They peer into each other’s souls as their eyes are locked above the city. Busy streets, walkways and advertising screens below be damned because tonight the sky is their’s. Mirra says:


    “Is this what you had in mind?”


    She slightly tilts her head to the left, her hair gushing in the winds. Eurus can’t help but be enamored by her dashing looks. Less daring than they were back in 2472 but for him even more beautiful. He’s never felt like this before about any being – a Dynamo or a human, much less what is ultimately a crime lord.


    She plants a discreet kiss on his lips. The around them is windy but calm in their midst.


    “This is the third date you know,” says Mirra.


    “Oh?” says Eurus.


    “We’re like schoolkids – taking out daddy’s bike for a wild night of fun and fucking? Was that your plan? Are you trying to get into my pants?”


    “Not yet. I have a friend who works at a Mind Palace in the Slum Of Red. Would you like to go there?”


    “Mind Palace? I thought Cells were forbidden there?”


    “I know the owner. She’ll let you travel my mind.”


    Mirra feels an overwhelming sense of excitement and privilege. There’s a tinge of fear souring the pot of honeyed feelings. She wonders if she really wants to know her place in his life.


    “Or we could get a hotel room, or stay here, or…. Just don’t go, Eurus.”


    “I must. But I hope to show you why I plan on returning to you.”


    Mirra looks down. She’s not cried since she was little – at least not unwillingly. But in that moment she drops a tiny tear onto her jacket.


    “I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.”


    “Why not?” Eurus asks.


    “Stop being obtuse!” she says irritated, “It’s because what I thought would be a fun experiment has spiraled out of my control.”


    “We can stop,” says Eurus.


    “No, damn it,” she says, “I don’t ever want to stop. That’s what I am afraid of. I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I wanted you under my thumb, to seduce you for my own gain.”


    “But?”


    “But it seems I should’ve been careful with what I wished for.”


    “Why? I won’t bend the knee,” he says.


    “It seems I would. But I see begging doesn’t help,” she says, “Merciless as you are.”


    “You won’t have to beg for anything – I’m offering you a ticket to ride into my life when I come back.”


    “Alright,” she wipes her tears. She briefly considers that maybe she should just throw herself off the bike. But no, she won’t resort to such foolishness and says, “I guess that’s the tax on my lottery ticket. Let’s go, then.”


    She turns back around and puts her helmet back on. The Vulcan picks up speed again and they ride to the center of the Slum of Red.


    As she lowers the bike, the sun hides behind the horizon now, having fully set at the Slum of Red. The market is less busy than it was back in 2475, most vendors having closed up their shops. They unmount the bike, Eurus retracts his helmet and she puts her back on the pillion. She says:


    “You’re not afraid it gets stolen?”


    “I can track it,” he says, “Besides, this is clearly not an ordinary bike.”


    “True that,” she says, “But as you well know, stupider things have occurred.”


    “Indeed,” he says, “We’ll deal with it if happens.”


    “We?” she says a little surprised, “Now I kinda want it to get stolen ha-ha.”


    They walk through the marketplace to a building on the far end that wasn’t there in 2475. It’s new and looks much better than anything around it. It’s a two-story apartment building built quite recently it seems. The walls are not yet completely caked under the dust and patched up with various bits and pieces one could scrape together. There’s a dimly lit sign “Mind Palace 4 U” on the door.


    As Eurus opens the door for Mirra, they’re greeted by a familiar face – Ursula. The place itself is spotless, with seats for waiting and a proper administrative desk. The hallways lead to several rooms, filled with machines used to read one’s mind. She’s abandoned the displays of her busom, the red corset and black stockings. Now she’s wearing a black t-shirt under a white labcoat and blue jeans. Mirra says, surprised:


    “You?”


    “Yes,” says Eurus, “Ursula liquidated her brothel and decided to get legit.”


    “Really?” says Mirra, “Why so?”


    “Well after unknowingly helping Eurus, and participating in child trafficking, I took a long look at myself and realized that I can’t continue as I always have. Eurus here helped me set this up.”


    “Haha,” laughs Mirra, “Eurus – the Cell super soldier and the angel investor? Gimme a break.”


    “Eurus collected a bounty on my head and gave it to me, helping me start over. But what can I do for you?”


    “Ursula, Mirra would like to visit my Mind Palace,” says Eurus.


    “Really? Just that? No iced tea, no coffee? You know this could get me a black cell under Ultra HQ with my name on the straps.”


    “That won’t happen. This session won’t get backed up,” says Eurus.


    “Also illegal,” Ursula says.


    “I can keep it off the books,” says Eurus, showing a small chip in his hands, “Just put that in the machine before we start.”


    “Of course, right this way sir, m’am,” says Ursula, “I have a private booth.”


    She leads them through the facility and opens a door which leads to a downward staircase. It’s not as clean as the others, because likely it doesn’t get much use.


    “Are the other ones not incognito enough?” Mirra asks.


    “The other ones aren’t equipped to access a Cell’s Mind Palace,” says Ursula, “I was wondering why you insisted I install this.”


    “Aww, for me?” says Mirra with a slight note of sarcasm.


    “In part. There’s also an eventuality where two Cell’s might need to use this for a variety of reasons. I thought it smart to place this capacity in the hands of someone I could trust.”


    “I know what I want for Christmas now,” says Mirra.


    They’re lead down stairs into a two-part room with a glass wall separating the sections. On one side there are two chairs, big enough to fit Cells in them. Mirra instinctively lies down in one, her otherwise towering figure looking tiny in it in comparison. Eurus lies down in the other, fitting it like a glove.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “How does it work?” Mirra says, hesitating momentarily.


    “Your brain is a map of electromagnetic signals. This map paints a picture in your mind. It residue from your brain’s visual and sensory cortexes to reconstruct my memories. It’s perfectly harmless,” Eurus says.


    Helmets attached via wires to the ceiling lower down to Eurus and Mirra in their chairs which they put on. The machines whir up and a blue light on the helmets comes on indicating that connection to the users’ brains is successful.


    “Broadcasting mind palace in 3… 2… 1…” says Ursula.


    Mirra and Eurus close their eyes.


    Mirra opens her eyes again. Around her is darkness, pitch black. She feels weightless as if she were floating or in space. She can hear loud rumbling from gas around her but she cannot see or hear it impact her. She then realizes that she’s crouched up in a ball and there’s no way for her to stand up or move herself around at all. She then feels a strong frontward jolt. She’s stopped floating and struck the ground. Around her is gunfire and explosions and the darkness around her is blown away as she realizes she just experienced a Cell Artillery Deep Strike. That’s where a Cell is shot out of a cannon several dozens of kilometers behind enemy lines to wreak havoc and allow the rest of their army to advance.


    Darkness explodes into fire. As Mirra sees through the opening eyes of Eurus the battlefield around her point of view is a hellscape of nightmares. The sky is burning red, yellow and green. The Sun hoping to claim dominance over the stratosphere scraping its way back from constant nuclear fire at the horizon. Green from ionized air twists and coils around the swaths of explosions and red, a serpent of Borealis created from severe radiation slithering and writhing through the sky – a veiny almost sickly pattern as if a starving drug addict gave their skin to model the heavens after.


    All around her, broken machines and bits of blown apart human carcasses scatter the battlefield. Lunaresque craters around her hide the occasional surviving human. Their eyes – it’s clear they’ve been fighting for whatever’s left humanity’s harrows before its bitter end is met. As they see around them the artillery explode into towering super soldiers they don’t even react. There’s nothing left in their bodies to give an emotion from. They look as if they’d already accepted humanity’s inevitable defeat.


    Cracks of light and rumbling of explosions in the sky as the machines and humans around her grapple for the last remnants of air superiority in the region. Each flash accounting for the ending of a lifetime that led the pilot to an end they had no choice but to participate in. Even without any more available information, it became hauntingly clear – humanity was on its last legs.


    Even with all this death and despair around her – the apparent inevitability of the ever nearing gallop of destruction of humanity’s remaining forces, she feels her body calm, driven, fearless and determined to find the Data Mother and wipe the Machine Revolt from the planet. Her eyes lock at a massive Titan of a killing machine where thousands of smaller murder bots are pouring out like wasps out of their nest. She feels her tireless body leap towards it taking a stride of hundreds of meters at a time as her metalclad body is boosted with blasts from nuclear powered rocket propulsed engines.


    Steelborne spiders lock on her attempting to capture her but are swept aside as if they really were bugs on the wind screen. Her power sword and Bullrifle cut through them effortlessly as if they were standing still compared to the dizzying speed of her movements. She is unstoppable, unrelenting and uncompromising in her pursuit of the machines’ destruction. The Titan gears towards her turning in haste to counter the fast approaching threat. It is all but too late for it as it tries to fire up its lasguns capable of unleashing streams of concentrated nuclear rays of fire.


    From the towering foot and figure of the Titan she leaps up to its shoulder. Massive heat dissipates through purpose built gaps in her armor as the nuclear battery powered plasma cutters blast her way into the body of the Titan. The torso of the monstrous killer machine is infested with super soldiers and soon she feels the walls shake around her as the Titan begins to collapse from the immense destruction caused by her super soldier body. Her movements are a carefully choreographed dance of lethal intent. Just as the levels around her begin to tilt towards the ground she blasts and flies her way out of the throat of the now defunct Titan. A terrifying symbol of humanity’s downfall at the horrors of its own creation falls and crumbles as it is no match for the swift and merciless fire dispatched by her in Eurus’ body. Nothing can stop her. And nothing will until the Machine Revolt dies.


    As she lands next to a single squad of barely surviving soldiers the looks in their faces are of disbelief. It’s as if angels of death had descended onto the battlefield not for their undoing but to breathe life into the withering body of man. They just saw artillery shells explode into wraiths of destruction which took down the daunting menace of a Titan, almost impervious to anything else within a few minutes. The tide of history is turning before their very eyes. But she will not stand there to gloat. She leaps again towards the next pockets of resistance never stopping to mull over successes and possible defeats. She feels that to her body the only thing that matters to it is war and bringing about its end.


    What feels like years and months fly by in combat. There is no rest to eat, sleep, share stories. Occasionally a message on her HUD displays that a Cell Circuit has succumbed to the Machine Revolt but those are rare. The exploding Titans and ripped apart machines are as if a war drum in her visage is beating the Machines onto their death march. Each roar of fire and scream of her power armor is the rhythmic melody to playing a tune to signify the end of the Machine Revolt. People feel their arms get tired after holding a book for a few dozen minutes but her arms grow in strength as the years of constant battle speed by.


    Finally, she feels her body give a sense of fulfillment, as it’s ripping apart the final spiderbot around. Its thrashing is reminiscent of humanity all those years ago before the Cells landed on the battlefield. But it has no savior, no guardian angel to leap forth from the abyss to help it. To her, it marks the end of Eurus’ work on Earth, completing his purpose as scalpel cutting out the tumor of humanity’s self-made destruction in the Machine Revolt. A scalpel which cuts like a warhammer.


    Centuries pass. Senate and parliamentary hearings in Earth’s governinig bodies come to the conclusion that the Cell Circuit production must be halted immediately. The governments demand to know first how the spirits were made but Dr Gobb Vakkar beside her says the process was destroyed and hidden as to not invite further annihilation through humanity’s hubris. Thus, no method is recovered to create more and the production halts as requested.


    She sees her life pass her by as tens of thousands of souls are helped, extinguished and altered in her path as if a singular linchpin of energy was released in her wake. The Martian revolution is destroyed with what feels like a whisper of a thought as Eurus directly enters the revolutionary’s lair and kills him right then and there. He doesn’t even get a chance to speak or to sound the alarm. There’s no hesitation, only calm calculated service for humanity.


    People others would consider friends die as they age, but Eurus keeps going. For him a funeral is insignificant as he’s bound to see as many of them coming up as have gone by if not more. Not bound by mortality, only by purpose does he march towards the heat death of the universe.


    She sees herself through his eyes for the first time in 2472, at Madelaine’s party. Her beautiful body and frame on display. Her attempts at seduction and manipulation feel so hollow and pathetic now. Did she really expect him to succumb so easily? The life she inhabits in the Mind Palace is beyond any single human and so far so that any attempt to comprehend it is redundant. She sees herself trying to get him to sleep with her and him hesitate. That feeling is new. But ultimately she feels vindicated in him as he denies her.


    In 2475 back in the Slum of Red, she sees him almost immediately pick up on Sienna’s scent. Her presence is not as incognito as she thought. The obvious stampede caused by Mirra never once faltered him, only caused a mild annoyance which immediately was turned to his benefit as its chaos merely provided an easier opportunity to complete his mission. She sees herself quitely move through the factory taking out the trafficking guards one by one as if they were blind, deaf and completely incapable of any sensory experience whatsoever. The whole time she knows that Sienna is watching her somewhere.


    She quietly exits the factory such that there’s no way Sienna could know where she is. After merely waiting for a moment, she sees Sienna leave the location, get on her own statbike and fly off. Discreetly, just a few meters above the rooftops of the Slum of Red does he follow her statbike to Sienna’s destination – Leone Tower. Was she really so obvious?


    As she hears herself tell Eurus that she succumbs to him, she feels an emotion of confusion. She feels him fully expect to dispatch every foot soldier and eventually her and he would’ve done it. Admiration fills her veins as he now realizes Mirra’s self sacrifice. Her acceptance that she is at his whim. Their evening plays out and she feels no longer just calm, purposeful, but uncertain and a small wave of warmth flowing through her divinely constructed core.


    In 2478, Eurus contacts her about Draia. She feels him trust her, a feeling uniquely acute over the centuries. For some inexplicable reason, she feels Eurus have a sense of need for her.


    From just a few minutes ago, she sees herself put her helmet onto the handlebar of the Vulcan 5 and turn around. Not fearing for himself but for her daring maneuver she feels him nervous, anxious. Her pleads ring hollow but for the first time in Eurus’ existence she feels sadness in him too – he doesn’t want to leave her either much less hurt her along the way. But in her body she feels the same purpose that once brought the end of the Machine Revolt. She feels it cannot be ignored either. His fear is mixed with sensations of companionship, worry about her. She feels him fully intend on returning to her and wishing to spend his final moments on Martis in her company. She thought she knew love. She thought she knew humanity. But through centuries of black and white purpose, and gray solitude, she sees herself represent a fiber of color in his life. Something he has chosen to explore and to allow himself to enjoy. She’s unique to him, and he is to her.


    As she opens her eyes back at the Mind Palace 4 U, she sees Eurus already standing, towering at his seat looking intensely at her. The room is spinning around her a little and there’s a tiny tinge of nausea after that rager of an experience she just went through. Ursula is peering at her and Eurus through the glass to see if she’s okay. She sits up and wobbles a little getting on her feet to which Eurus catches her by her shoulders. Her gaze drops to the floor.


    “Are you alright?” Eurus asks.


    “Ough… what the fuck did you and me just do?” she says slightly groggy.


    “I don’t have a family, no caregiver,” says Eurus, “I lack data to accurately described how I feel when I’m around you. So I thought I’d show you.”


    Yes… she remembers. She remembers all of it. Ending up as a blip on his radar. She’s not an apocalyptic war or event, she’s not the death of humanity. She’s not just some woman but she isn’t much more either. She raises her eyes to meet him watching her.


    “Your pulse is high,” says Eurus.


    “He loves me… I think,” she thinks to herself, “I’m okay. I just need some fresh air,” she says.


    “Right away. Ursula, thank you. See ya around!” says Eurus.


    He guides her by her hand up the stairs and back outside to the Slum of Red. The dusk has turned to night while she was under. She asks:


    “How long was I under?”


    “A couple of hours.”


    She leans against the wall of the establishment looks him in the eye slyly and gazes into the almost empty marketplace. She takes out a cigarette and lights it in her mouth, dragging it deep and inhaling.


    “Wow,” she says and exhales the smoke, “well you tricked me good.”


    “I’m confused.”


    “Here I was - starting to doubt whether or not I was some weird curiosity within your precious Codex and if you really gave a shit,” she says “turns out you’ve got the butterflies.”


    She takes a drag.


    “You are.”


    She turns her head back to him.


    “Shh,” she exhales, ”you know, I was kidding, right?” and she throws the cigarette bud into the trash can.


    “I’m not. You are a curiosity within the Codex and I do wonder why,” says Eurus. He looks away at the marketplace as well and says: “You must understand, Mirra, the Codex is nothing we as Cells can take lightly or ignore. But I want to spend time with you. I’m choosing to stay an extra two days on Mars for you even as I’m compelled to depart immediately. And I will return one day if I can.”


    “I could come with you,” says Mirra. Eurus looks back at her.


    “Maybe,” says Eurus, “Could I propose a compromise?”


    “We fuck today and I’ll never see you again?”


    “Not quite. I’ll send word when all the necessary things are set in motion on Terram. You can join then. Gives you time to wrap things up here too – the criminal empire doesn’t run itself.”


    “I’ll think about it,” says Mirra, unable to completely hide the ghost note of giddy in her voice.


    “It’s getting late, I’ve got crimes scheduled for tomorrow,” she says with a sly smirk, “Take me home?”


    “So soon?”


    “There’s more?” she asks.


    Eurus asks her to ride the pillion this time. He fires up his Vulcan 5.


    “Shame,” she says through the radio while sitting behind him, “I was kinda hoping it got stolen.”


    Eurus blasts away. The way Mirra rode was human – direct, fast and careful. Eurus rides like a super soldier. He takes her through the traffic, threading the needle between doom and glory. A death spiral, a juke between danger and arousal. Their veins course equivalent doses of dopamine, serotonin and norepinephrine. Cortisol and adrenaline mix well with the sweet cocktail brewing in them. The city around them is almost ticking past them - an accelerating pendulum swinging the night near its end. Each twist of the throttle and squeeze of the brakes inviting nausea but finding affection instead.


    Soon the hue of corrupted wealth from Leone Tower peers into view. Suddenly the engine of the Vulcan 5 dies and the machine begins to drop. They clearly won’t make it even for an emergency landing.


    “Oh no,” says Eurus.


    “WHAT THE FUCK, EURUS?!” screams Mirra.


    But as she says that, the machine roars to life once more. He soars his ride across the building landing them neatly at the rooftop park she’s built there.


    “I just wanted to see how you like it, when I do it,” says Eurus.


    “You…,” she snarls, “you… ha-ha,” she laughs out loud as she removes her helmet, “you absolute monster you… I’ve no words.”


    “She who laughs last, laughs best,” says Eurus.


    “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” she laughs.


    “I’m adapting,” he says with a microcopic grin which might as well be abrupt and raucus laughter as far as a Cell’s anatomy might be concerned.


    While Eurus is still sitting on the statbike and Mirra starts walking away she turns around and says:


    “You know, I don’t have a coffee machine I’d be bothered to use right now… That being said. Care for a nightcap?”


    Eurus switches off his Vulcan 5, removes his torsal armor.


    He follows her inside.


    Before she’d taken him directly to the bedroom essentially but now they are somewhere what could be described as a guest area, or a lounge. It boasts a bar, a retractable screen for old-timey movies and chairs, tables for all kinds of sortings. There’s a bar fixed for drinks – exquisite beer flowing at the tap, lavish spirits garnishing the wall behind it. The lighting is dim but well-lit enough to guide the naked eye. She takes his large hand in her, smaller, softer one and guides him towards a couch. It’s not that he can’t see without her guidance, but he wants her to guide him as he’s now a pilot flying without instruments. The couch is dark red, shaped almost like the lips of his host – full and soft.


    She sits him down. She goes to the bar and pours him a tall glass of Falkonturm beer.


    “I’ll be right back,” she says as she hands him the cold drink.


    She goes out of the room through the sideways sliding doors leading to a hallway to her bedroom judging from the building’s layout.


    Eurus doesn’t have to wait for her long. Right after he finishes his drink, she returns a few minutes later, wearing nothing but her night dress. Her smooth, toned legs are lifted only by her bare feet – slightly small for her size. His vision upwards is cut off right above her knees by the white silk fabric. Her frame is once more the centerpiece of the room like it was in 2472. Only now Eurus is caught by it too. The dress held up by two additional points standing attention on her chest, noting the excitement in the air.


    To his surprise the smell from her cigarette is gone. Either he can’t sense it or he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.


    The aroma in the air is slightly reminiscent of honey, and coffee. There’s an almost inperceptible note of syrup sneaking into his senses.


    Belt buckle. Boots. Shirt. Underarmor.


    “I didn’t know Cells didn’t wear underwear…” she says, “Commandos indeed,” as she eyes him.


    She takes his hand once more.


    The events in the bedroom are only describable as an everlasting flash of lightning storms. A parade of cannons exploding as Napoleon rides across the field crushing everyone in his path. His battle-hardened and scarred body is now the centerpiece, as she explores him almost out of curiosity. Quiet breathing, warmth of their skin, subtle movements.


    A tit for tat. He leaves no part of her unattended either. A thermonuclear explosion beneath the surface of the ocean. The depths of the Mariana’s trench. The Grand Canyon. The Empire State Building. A lion devouring a gazelle. The unforgettable sound of a champagne cork popping off its container.


    They fall asleep in each others’ arms, Eurus’ steel muscles, supporting her supple, athletic and soft body, smushed against him. There may have been encore performances, but tonight, Eurus sees no mirage, no premonitioning dreams. He’s calm.