Moonlight filtered through the RV's window, casting soft silver light and shifting shadows that moved like restless ghosts across the floor.
On the top bunk, Rio lay asleep, yet his brows were furrowed as if trapped in a nightmare.
Suddenly, his body jolted upright. His chest heaved. He grasped for a breath, like he was drowning on dry land.
The cold silver light skimmed over his trembling palms, They didn't feel like his. They twitched and flinched as if controlled by someone else. He stared at them, horrified.
The memories came rushing back. He couldn't stop them. Panic. Blood. The crunch of breaking bones. The splash of bodies sinking into the lake.
And then that bloody, metallic tang, clinging stubbornly to the back of his throat.
His skin prickled with phantom touches, a chill that ran up his spine like icy fingers trailing on his exposed skin.
-Why?
-Why did it feel… good?
-Why had the chaos, the raw crushing power, tasted so intoxicating?
The questions had gnawed at him ever since he'd made sure his family was safe.
Not just the violence, but how natural it had felt to let go. He had always thought that if he ever had real, unstoppable power, he'd use it for good. He'd save people. Be the hero.
Last night, though—last night was different.
He had torn through those men without a second thought and not once did he hesitate.
He knew it wasn't just about protecting his family—it was something darker, hungrier.
It was as if something caged within him finally broke free, unleashing a power he never knew he had, and he wasn't sure he wanted to admit how much of it had been his choice.
Was the change triggered by the sheer terror of losing his family forever?
or was it just a raw, uncontained hunger?
He clenched his trembling fists, trying to grasp control.
-That wasn't me. That can't be.-
But the flicker of satisfaction was undeniable
-No. That wasn't me. At least, it wasn't who I wanted to be.
-They deserved it— he told himself. —They left Gwen and Ben to drown.
-Those men had been dangerous. They'd hurt his family. They would've kept hurting others. They'd had it coming.-
-It was justice. It had to be. Right??!-
But the screams came back to him anyway. The look in their eyes. The sound of breaking bones that sent a shiver of thrill down his spine even now.
He didn't want to admit that he'd enjoyed it, but no matter how much he thought, the truth was undeniable—he'd lost control. And if it happened again…
He squeezed his eyes tight. A deep breath shuddered through his chest, but the pressure in his lungs didn't ease.
After all that had happened, the question haunted him, echoing in his own skull.
—
"What does that make me?"
"If I enjoyed it... what does that make ME?"
"No no no nonono—"
"My breath won't come. It's stuttering, breaking apart. I can taste it again—blood and lake water. I can hear the screaming. My screaming? Theirs? I can feel it… the snap. The give. The power. It felt so—"
"—good. It felt so good."
–
But just as his panic reached its peak, a sharp wave of dizziness crashed over him.
—
"the world. its spinning–"
"Everything is scattering. It's shattering."
"I can't breathe. I can't—"
—hold on—
—
He couldn't. The thought shattered, and everything inside him shut down.
A numbness seeped into his skull before everything went black.
He collapsed back onto the bunk, letting the darkness claim him utterly. His fists relaxed, arms hanging down from the bunk, marked with small crescent-shaped marks from his own grip.
He hadn't realized how deeply his fingernails had dug into his skin until he finally let go.
***
Somewhere else, in a place of endless, quiet white, a young man with short, neat hair was watching a wall of floating screens.
Each screen showed a different person: Rio, Ben, Gwen, Grandpa Max… and others.
Two unfamiliar girls were prominently featured near Rio's group—one with silver shiny hair, the other with roots of white, turning into streaks of vibrant pink and blue, as they approached the tips.
The young man's expression, usually one of detached observation, tightened as he focused on Rio's screen.
He watched the boy's panic rise, his breath stuttering, his thoughts spiraling into self-destruction. He saw the exact moment Rio's psyche began to fracture under the weight of a guilt it wasn't yet built to bear.
This was Ralp, the same guy who was talking with an old man, when Rio exited the void.
"A boon given to accommodate him in this world had now turned into a curse haunting him," muttered Ralp, as a flicker of something akin to pity crossed his exquisite features.
Pity? Maybe. But it was mixed with something else, something more calculating. "He won't last long like this…"
With a resigned sigh, he waved his hand. A single, intricate glyph glowed before him and then vanished.
–
Simultaneously, deep within the circuitry of the Omnitrix, a silent alarm was triggered.
BIOSCAN: PSYCHOLOGICAL STRESS LEVELS CRITICAL. NEUROLOGICAL PATTERNS INDICATIVE OF PSYCHOTIC BREAK/IMMINENT SELF-HARM.
PROTOCOL: MENTAL PRESERVATION - AUTHORIZED.
The core of the Omnitrix glowed a soft, pulsing green. A low-level bio-electrical impulse, undetectable to human technology, ran through Rio's nervous system.
It was a built-in safety feature, an emergency reset. Its only job was to stop a host's mind from breaking under alien instincts and feelings it wasn't evolved to process.
It gently pressed his consciousness into a deep, dreamless sleep, giving his human mind a chance to build a wall around everything that threatened to tear him apart.
–
The young man in white watched the screen for another moment, making sure Rio was out.
Once he saw the steady rhythm of forced sleep, his expression once again turned into a mask of neutral observation.
***
Morning light replaced the silver glow of the moon when Rio opened his eyes.
His head throbbed with a dull ache, each pulse pressing against his temples.
He pushed himself up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. He blinked once, twice, waiting for the world to come into focus. Slowly, the familiar sight of the RV sharpened around him—sunbeams cutting through the dusty air, faint static buzzing from the dashboard radio.
As he tried to recall the night before, a heavy, familiar voice called from the dashboard.
"Good morning, Rio," said Grandpa Max.
The old man sat in the driver's seat, fiddling with the stubborn radio dials one-handed.
Rio blinked, startled. Morning already?
"Ah… good morning, Grandpa," he muttered, climbing down from the bunk with heavy feet. He padded quietly to the front, eyes drifting to the old man's right arm—wrapped neatly in thick white bandages. He felt responsible, even if no one said it.
"Is your arm alright?" asked Rio. "Does it still hurt?"
Max rotated his good shoulder with a low grunt. "It's swollen, but I've handled worse. drove this old friend with broken ribs, remember?" He tried to flex the injured arm a little for show, but a quick, sharp wince gave him away.
Rio's mouth moved, but it wasn't a smile. A frown took over instead, his brows pulling together instead.
"You should rest," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "There's no need to push it. I'll drive today."
Max opened his mouth to argue but stopped, studying Rio's expression—a mix of care, guilt, and something unreadable.
The old man's own expression softened. He understood. This wasn't just about a sore arm.
"It's alright," finally Max said softly.
Before more words could form, Ben's cheerful voice cut in from behind them.
"Hey! No fair!" Ben yelled, running up to them. "You taught him to drive when we were twelve, but I'm still banned from the wheel?"
Max chuckled, the kind of laugh that came more from the chest than the mouth. "That's because you drive like you've got a death wish."
"That was an accident!" Ben said, throwing his arms up. "The brakes were faulty!"
Rio put a hand on Ben's shoulder, offering quiet reassurance.
Ben's grin faltered for half a heartbeat before he recovered, elbowing Rio hard enough to sting.
But Rio already slid back two quick steps, and Ben's elbow cut through empty air.
"Traitor. Just for that, I'm definitely driving the RV today." snarled Ben, before turning to Grandpa Max with his best pleading look. "Come on, Grandpa, just to the next town? I'll be careful this time."
Max sighed, long and weary, like a man who'd had this exact fight a dozen times. "I'll think about it when you can name all the dashboard controls without looking,"
Ben opened his mouth—then snapped it shut, brow furrowing in concentration. "…Speedometer. That spinny RPM thing. The… temperature doodad?"
"A promise is a promise. Either you remember and tell them properly, or you can't drive." Max didn't even think of bothering with Ben's fate.
Ben sagged, shoulders drooping in defeat. He opened his mouth for round two of arguments—
But Gwen's voice cut him down first.
"Can you not scream first thing in the morning?"