A faint shimmer pulsed from Sasha's ring—like moonlight rippling on water. The air itself seemed to bend for a heartbeat, and then, out of nowhere, something solid began to take shape in her hand.
Dylan's eyes widened as a sleek, slender tool materialized between her fingers—a titanium lockpick, glinting under the flickering cell light.
"What the—" Jones' jaw dropped. "Did that just—did you just pull that out of thin air?!"
Reyes's mouth fell open. "You've got to be kidding me."
Even Dylan—logical, composed Dylan—was momentarily speechless, his scientific brain short-circuiting at the sight.
"That's… that's not possible," he whispered, taking a step closer to inspect it.
Sasha only smiled, twirling the lockpick with a practiced flick of her wrist. "Oh, it's very possible. You just lack imagination. There's so many things that you still don't know."
