The fire had burned down to a steady roar, a wall of glowing orange stacked against the cavern dark. Sparks drifted upward like fireflies, swallowed by the black ceiling of Level 127.
Mikey found himself slumped in a battered metal chair, wedged between Willie and Bobo. All three of them were deep in it — drunk beyond reason, their mugs refilled more times than anyone was counting.
The world swayed a little when Mikey laughed, but he didn't care. His stomach hurt from it, his cheeks flushed hot from booze.
"Ha! I did not know my dad was like that!" Mikey said, nearly spilling his drink on himself.
Bobo slapped his metal hand against his knee, the clang lost in his wheezing laughter.
"I'm serious, kid! The three of us back in the day—madmen, all of us."
Willie leaned across Mikey, eyes glassy but alive, a wicked grin on his face. He pointed his mug at Bobo like he was holding a pistol.
"I'm tellin' him about Breast Pond."
Bobo stopped mid-laugh, his scarred face tilting in mock warning.
"Oh, hell no. You're not gonna tell him about Breast Pond."
"Oh yes I am."
"Oh hell nah!"
Bobo exploded into laughter again, his metal hand banging the chair's armrest with a hollow clang.
Mikey perked up, nearly bouncing in his seat.
"What are y'all yappin' about?!"
Willie set his mug down just long enough to lean forward, elbows on his knees, grinning like he'd been waiting years to let this one out.
"Okay, so—one day, maybe… what, twenty, twenty-five years ago—"
"Twenty-five," Bobo interrupted, pointing a finger like a judge.
"Yeah, twenty-five years ago," Willie went on, "we get sent out on a mission. Thirty of us. Big crew."
Mikey blinked through the haze of booze.
"Who was there?"
His words came out slurred, but his focus was locked.
"Of who you'd know?"
Willie ticked names off with his fingers.
"Me, Bo, Luciana, Jasmine, my Silvia, and your mom and dad."
That sobered Mikey just enough. He leaned forward, gripping his mug tight, ears straining to catch every word.
Willie smirked.
"Back then, Bo was messin' around with Jasmine and Luce—same time. Neither of 'em knew. Your old man had just quit on Luciana—nasty fight, I mean, real ugly—and he was makin' eyes at Darla. And me?"
He puffed his chest.
"I was already diggin' down my soon-to-be wife."
The three of them burst into laughter so loud a few people nearby turned their heads. Mikey wheezed, clutching his stomach.
"Oh my god—go on!"
Willie was gasping from his own laughter, so he passed the torch with a wave.
"Bo, you tell this part."
Bobo swirled the last of his drink, leaning in close with a conspiratorial grin.
"Alright. So, your dad's out sweepin' for landmines, right? He finds this little-ass pond out by the dunes. Don't tell nobody. But then the idea hits him. That bastard had a talent for ideas."
Willie shook his head, chuckling into his mug.
"Him and his damn ideas…"
"Anyway," Bobo continued, "Desmond comes to us, says he knows the girls are dyin' for a bath. His plan? He tells Jaz to double-check an area he's already cleared, so when she stumbles on the pond she'll think she found it herself. That way, they'll all sneak off later—"
"Why?!"
Mikey interrupted, face red with laughter.
Bobo leaned even closer, his grin stretching.
"So we could peep, kid."
Mikey almost spit his drink across the fire.
"NO WAY! Did it work?!"
Willie leaned forward, voice dropping dramatic.
"We put the plan in motion. The three of us fake sleepin' in our tents. And sure enough, Jasmine finds the pond, just like your dad guessed. Later that night? Boom. The girls sneak out. Every last one of 'em."
Mikey's eyes went wide.
"Oh my god—I see why you call it Breast Pond."
"Wait for it," Bobo said, shaking his head, already laughing again.
Willie slapped the table and leaned in so close Mikey could smell the booze on his breath.
"So we creep out after 'em, climb up a sandhill right above the pond. Perfect spot. We're perched there, lookin' down—and sure enough, Luciana, Jasmine, Darla, my wife—whole crew—they start strippin' off their gear. It was showtime."
Mikey was doubled over, nearly crying with laughter.
"No way—no way! Did they catch you?!"
Willie raised a finger, savoring the punchline.
"See, your dad didn't think Darla would come. But she did. And the moment she started takin' her clothes off? That fool panicked. Covered our eyes like we were kids and shouted—"
Bobo, already in tears, shouted with him, "NOOOOO!"
"And all the girls turned and saw us sittin' on that damn sandhill like a bunch of idiots!" Willie finished, roaring with laughter.
The three of them howled so hard the nearby drummers nearly lost their beat. Mikey wheezed into his mug, the edges of his eyes wet. He could almost see it—his father, younger and reckless, stumbling through a half-baked plan with these two lunatics at his side.
When the laughter finally ebbed, Mikey slumped back in his chair, still grinning like a fool. His voice cracked with leftover chuckles.
"Man… I can't believe it. My dad. That guy."
Bobo wiped his eyes with his sleeve, still chuckling.
"Kid, your old man was worse than you'll ever know."
Willie raised his mug, his grin softening.
"But he was our friend. Crazy bastard, but he was our crazy bastard."
For a moment, the three of them sat in the glow of the fire, mugs lifted, the laughter fading into something heavier
Willie squinted at Mikey through the haze of booze, his cheeks red, his grin sloppy.
Tell me somethin', kid," he said, leaning forward over the rickety table.
"You anything like your old man? Same cut of cloth?"
Mikey laughed and shook his head, nearly spilling what was left of his mug.
"Nah, nah. Don't do stuff like that. I'm nothin' like him."
Willie cocked an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
"I mean, you from the Council, right? A kid like you—don't got a girl back home?"
Mikey hiccupped, shaking his head hard.
"Nah. Nothing. Nada. Zilch."
Bobo leaned in, his smirk wide and mischievous, his voice low and teasing.
"What about Lia?"
Mikey nearly spit his drink across the table.
"What?!"
Both men roared with laughter, the sound booming across the firelit square.
"I see how you look at her," Bobo said, pointing his mug like an accusation. "Don't lie to me. You're in love, huh?"
"Love?! No, no, no—hell no! With her?!" Mikey stammered, but his face betrayed him, flushed pink beyond the alcohol.
"Come on, kid," Bobo pressed, grinning like a wolf. "You can tell us."
Mikey dropped his eyes to the fire, muttering.
"I think…"
He rubbed his temple, his voice lowering to a mumble.
"I think she's pretty, okay?"
Bobo cupped his hand to his ear.
"What was that?"
Mikey blurted out, louder than he meant to, "I think she's pretty! Alright?!"
Their laughter hit him like a slap on the back. Willie slapped the table, nearly spilling his drink.
"So why don't you talk to her then?" Willie asked, breath wheezing out between chuckles. "Never see you make a move."
Bobo answered for him, smirking.
"Some shit happened between them. Never tell me why."
Mikey straightened a little, waving his mug for emphasis, his words coming out slurred.
"When she infiltrated the Academy… we met. And we went to this rooftop. She was awesome, man. Funny. Kind. Gorgeous."
His voice softened like he was telling it only to himself.
"I thought—this girl is it. She's different. She almost kissed me. She almost kissed me."
Willie leaned forward like a kid waiting for the end of a campfire story.
"And then?"
Mikey's eyes glazed with the memory. He took a swig, then staggered to his feet, pacing clumsily in front of them.
"She told me… she told me she was a Defector. And I didn't believe her. So I didn't listen when she tried to—"
He waved his hand, slurring.
"Well… just know she hates me now."
The men chuckled again, shaking their heads.
"Nah, man. She don't hate you," Willie said, voice warm with drunk conviction.
Bobo lifted his mug.
"Yeah, keep your head up, kid. You're fine."
Mikey stopped, wobbling on his feet, pointing at them.
"Nah, nah. She does. She hates me."
Willie leaned back with a snort.
"You don't need her approval, boy."
Mikey blinked.
"…Really?"
"Yeah!" the two men shouted together, mugs clinking.
Something lit in Mikey's chest. He started pacing again, stumbling over his boots, fueled by booze and ego.
"Yeah… maybe you're right. I don't need her! Screw that!"
"Yeah!" the men cheered again.
"I bet she does that with everyone— fuckin' kisses and seduces every guy she needs somethin' from."
"Yeah!"
"You know what?! I bet—" He hiccupped so hard it bent him forward. "—I bet it's like throwin' a fuckin' peanut down a hallway!"
His arms flung wide as he mimed the throw, his drunken face serious like he was proving some great point.
"Yeah!"
"And it's like a goddamn giveaway! You get a kiss! You get a kiss! You get a kiss!"
He stood there, arms wide, waiting for their chorus of approval. But the silence stretched.
"…Guys?" He blinked, wobbling. "Whatchu lookin' at?"
Bobo and Willie sat stiff as statues, mugs frozen in midair, the laughter gone from their faces. Bobo's mug slipped from his fingers and shattered against the dirt.
Confused, Mikey turned, still half-smiling.
"What the hell are you guys— OH MY GOD!"
Then his stomach dropped. His heart seemed to stop.
Standing just a few feet behind him, framed in firelight, was Amelia. Out of her tent at last.
Her eyes were wide, blazing, and locked on him.
Mikey froze, his blood going cold.
The night around him still rang with music and laughter, but in that moment, all he could hear was the sound of his own mistake echoing back at him.