Shi Ji and Miriam faced one another in the arena, the space between them charged and taut. Shi Ji's shoulders hunched with tension, every muscle alert; Miriam, by contrast, wore that same gentle, unsettling smile—as if the world around them were nothing but a pleasant afternoon. In the stands, Shade's unmoving form lay slumped beside Matthew, a quiet, heavy presence that made the whole scene feel smaller and more fragile.
Shi Ji's thoughts raced, a drumbeat of panic behind his eyes. Okay, what possible moves could she pull out on me? I have to think quick—she could beat me any second now! he told himself, hunting for answers in the air.
Miriam watched him the way someone watches a curious insect: calm, patient, the smile soft and almost bewildered.
Is smiling her gimmick or something? Shi Ji wondered, trying to peel apart the mystery in her face. She just looks so nice!
Miriam blinked once, a slow, deliberate motion that revealed nothing.
What could she be plotting? I need to act fast! he thought, the urgency building into a tight, hot knot in his chest.
Miriam's voice was quiet, gentle—an attempt at concern. "Are you... okay?"
"TAKE THIS!!!" Shi Ji yelled. He summoned his trident, the weapon springing to life in his grip. With a raw, keening scream he charged—each step exaggerated, painfully deliberate—as if time itself had thickened around him.
Miriam only watched, unhurried, as he lunged.
From the stands, voices threaded through the air like commentary.
"Seriously?" Amor's tone was flat, amused.
Akarui snorted. "I really do question how he got drafted. He's really nothing impressive."
Amor's voice held a smug satisfaction. "I knew one day we'd finally acquire a bench rider."
Mustang's curiosity sounded casual. "So he manifested a trident. That's his gimmick, correct?"
"Yep, it is," Akarui answered. "I think it turns anything it touches into a liquid."
Mustang imagined the worst. "So if he hit Miriam with his trident, would it kill her instantly, or would she be a living blob?"
"No clue," Akarui admitted. "He's only used it about twice now."
"And that healing water he uses..." Mustang mused. "That must be an inherited gimmick."
"Mhm," Akarui replied shortly.
Mustang squinted, trying to place Shi Ji in his mental catalog of oddities. "What exactly is he, anyway? I've never seen a creature particularly like him before."
Akarui frowned, puzzled. "I swear I've heard this before—"
Shi Ji reached Miriam and swung—hard, clumsy, the motion heavy and uncoordinated. Miriam stepped aside with a single, effortless motion; his momentum carried him past, and he tumbled, striking the arena floor hard. He landed on his side, then the side of his head, and the blow blacked him out.
For a long, suspended second the arena was a vacuum—no roar, no breath, only the dull thud of bodies and the faint rattle of distant murmurs.
"That's it?" Amor's voice cracked through the silence like an afterthought.
"I told you that he's nothing impressive," Akarui said without surprise.
Miriam peered at Shi Ji's still form, confusion softening her features. "He—he knocked himself out..."
Mustang folded his arms, unbothered. "I suppose that ends this little test of mine. I'm not surprised that none of the rookies won, and I understand what each of them needs to work on."
Akarui let out a small, rueful laugh. "It's crazy how I'm the only one of us still conscious."
"That's because you surrendered," Mustang pointed out. "Shade got knocked out due to his injuries, and Shi Ji... I don't even know about Shi Ji."
Amor shrugged. "Well, it's all over now. I'm hungry—let's get back to HQ."
Back at HQ, Prius wore an apron and swept methodically through the hangout room. The space was almost spotless; dust and disorder yielded to the steady, rhythmic scrapes of his broom. His dreadlocks were pulled back into a long ponytail, revealing his unusual eyes—odd, observing. At a nearby table, Lana sat, absorbed in a book.
"Looks like we need more chairs and tables," Prius observed, sweeping a stray crumb into the dustpan.
Lana glanced up. "Do games of UNO usually get that heated?"
"Oh yeah, all the time," Prius said with a grin. "Luckily we have a little errand boy who helps us rebuild this room every time Amor goes berserk."
"Do we have another member?" Lana asked, eyebrows lifting.
Prius shrugged. "Eh, I wouldn't call him that. He's the Co-Coach."
Lana's expression crumpled into bafflement. "Why'd you call the Co-Coach an errand boy?"
"Because Mustang is soooo good at his job that the point of having a Co-Coach is... straight up POINTLESS." Prius set the broom aside and, with theatrical entitlement, took the chair from beneath Lana and sat.
"What the—HEY!" Lana snapped, half-livid, half-amused.
"Sorry," Prius said, feigning apology. "You're sitting in the only chair in the room. I, by myself, just cleaned EVERYTHING in this room up—I need it more than you."
Lana pointed at the corner where Banri sat, head bowed over a table. "What about his chair?"
Prius's face went earnest, unnecessarily solemn. "Lana, meet Banri. Banri, meet Lana." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Lana, IF I TOOK A CHAIR FROM UNDER HIS ASS HE WOULD PROBABLY MURDER ME ON THE SPOT!!!"
A tiny, sharp voice responded from a wire cage perched on the table beside Banri. "I'll murder you on the spot."
Prius turned his head slowly toward the cage. Reese sat inside, eyes bright, the metal bars a ridiculous throne.
"What did you just say to me, you little shit?" Prius demanded, equal parts amused and mock-offended.
Reese answered with theatrical menace. "I said I'll slit your neck!"
Prius laughed, shaking his head. "You're just adding onto it now, eh?"
He pushed off and walked over to the cage, broom in hand, the room alive with the odd, domestic chaos of people who called this place home.
Prius snapped the broom like a baton and whacked the wire cage off the table. The cage clattered to the floor and spun, metal singing against wood.
"Hey!" Reese barked from inside, indignation sharp as a razor.
Prius didn't flinch. He planted the broom with a casual authority and leaned over the toppled cage, eyes narrowing. "Do you want to stay in that cage for another week?"
"No..." Reese muttered, voice folding inward.
"Then SHUT THE HELL UP!" Prius barked. He turned to reclaim his seat—only to find Lana already occupying it, an expression of smug triumph on her face.
"Motherfucker—" Prius began, but his words were cut off by the door opening. A young man stepped in: black hair, brown eyes, altogether ordinary except for the purple suit that hugged him like a chose outfit. He moved with a calm, almost casual grace.
"Oh, yo—Tiger." Prius' tone smoothed out into something friendlier.
Lana peered up, curiosity brimming. "Is he the—"
"Co-Coach, yeah. That's Tiger Dream." Prius supplied, as if reading her mind.
Tiger glanced around, his gaze landing on Lana. "Is she... a rookie?"
"Uh, yeah. There's like three more." Prius replied, shrugging.
"Three... more..?" Tiger's voice shrank into something stunned, and his face fell; the news hit him harder than Prius expected.
"Right." Prius sauntered over to Lana and, with theatrical nonchalance, slid the chair out from under her—again. Lana went down with a surprised yelp; Prius simply sat as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Mustang took the other three to the arena to fight or something," Prius offered.
Tiger blinked, composing himself. "Oh... Oh... Alright. I got news from him that you guys destroyed this room again, so I came back with furniture that's just sitting outside."
"Ah, so you need help?" Prius cocked his head.
"Yeah—also, y'all destroyed the door?" Tiger added, a half-question, half-accusation.
"A rookie did that," Prius said with a shrug that suggested mischief more than remorse.
"Great... more room-wreckers," Tiger said, exasperation threading his words. "Well, I bought another one. It's a bit stronger than the last door."
Prius pushed to his feet. "Wonderful, I'll help you move things in."
"Thank you, PVD," Tiger said politely.
"Don't mention it." Prius gave a faint thumbs-up and walked out the door. He reappeared almost immediately, skidding back into the hangout like a man with too much energy.
"Aye, rookie—help out." Prius jabbed a finger toward Lana with comic authority.
They worked as a small, disjointed crew: Prius, Lana, and Tiger hauling furniture in one by one. A long table came first, heavy and solid. Ten chairs followed, stacking and clattering until the room looked like a makeshift mess hall. Last came the new door—blue stainless steel, cold and resolute on the floorboards.
"Alright—onto the easy part!" Prius announced, grinning as if mounting a small conquest.
Tiger's brow rose. "You've set up a door before?"
"No! But we can learn!" Prius declared, bravado outstripping his qualifications.
Lana frowned. "I feel like we need tools for this."
"Yeah, we also need door hinges." Tiger added sensibly.
Prius blinked. "Wait, did you buy a door without any door hinges?"
"Hey, you don't think about door hinges when you think about buying doors." Tiger sounded almost offended by the suggestion.
"Except you do. That's just how setting up a door works." Prius shook his head like a man lecturing a child.
Lana crossed her arms. "I thought you didn't know how to set up doors."
"Like I said—I have a general idea," Prius said, flapping a hand dismissively.
Tiger offered a compromise. "I think Mustang had a couple of leftover door hinges."
Prius's expression soured. "I don't think they'd be the right size. If you want to set up a door, you need the proper door hinges to do so."
"Once again, I thought you didn't know how to set up doors." Lana's tone suggested she was about to file a formal complaint.
"I wasn't that confident in my words," Prius conceded with a sheepish grin.
After a couple of minutes of rummaging around outside, Tiger returned triumphantly bearing a small toolbox and a handful of door hinges. He set them down with the gravity of someone who'd just unearthed buried treasure.
"All right, now we're getting somewhere! Tiger—REBUILD THE DOOR!" Prius commanded like a drill sergeant.
"What!? Who said I knew how to set up a door!?" Tiger protested, flustered.
"What, seriously?! You don't know how to set up a door either?!" Prius shot back, incredulous.
"No—Mustang is usually the one to do it!" Tiger protested.
"Fine, leave it to me!" Prius declared with renewed confidence. He grabbed a hammer, a clatter of nails, and a couple more hinges—tools in hand and determination in his step—ready to turn chaos into a functioning doorway.
Tiger watches Prius with a wary eye. He sounds unsure, the words coming out like a defensive joke. "I may not know how to put up a door... but I don't think you use nails and a hammer."
Prius grins, all bluster, and refuses to be cowed. "You're definitely wrong, watch!" He sets a hinge along the door's edge, positions a nail over it, and hammers without hesitation. The metal bites and the wood complains; Tiger flinches at the sharp, sudden sound.
"Alright, there!" Prius announces, triumphant.
Tiger arches an eyebrow. "Now what?"
"We put it on the frame!" Prius replies, stepping forward as if hanging a painting—the movement casual, almost theatrical.
Tiger hums an uncertain, "Uh... yeah.." and watches.
Prius approaches the door frame with the same easy confidence. He pins the door into place as though it were a picture to be admired. He gives the handle a test pull. The whole thing collapses in a dull, splintering heap.
He lets out a surprised, "Oooh, wow."
Tiger's tone is dry. "It's almost like I warned you."
Prius shrugs and shoots back, "Well guess what."
"Chicken butt?" Tiger tosses back, half-laughing.
Prius's reply is immediate and coarse. "You can go fuck yourself. On a serious note, we can just try again!" He barely finishes before the entire frame groans, surrenders — and comes apart.
"Oh. Oh no," Prius mutters, stunned.
Tiger inhales slowly, steadying himself. The accusation lands flat. "This is your fault."
"Ok ok, I can fix this!" Prius pleads.
Tiger is unconvinced. "I don't think you can."
"Grab some tape," Prius orders.
"We don't have tape," Tiger answers.
"You're supposed to say: 'I'll look as hard as I can!'" Prius teases, fishing for a line.
"Yeah, no," Tiger replies, unmoved.
A voice from the cabin drifts over. Lana asks, concerned, "Is everything alright?"
Prius, still bristling, mutters something sharp under his breath — "Piss-poor bastard." The insult hangs in the air, ugly and quick.
For a beat, neither Prius nor Tiger notices the faint light that begins to hover in the doorway. Lana sees it first, eyes narrowing. "What is that?"
"What is what?" Prius answers, confused, turning. His expression changes the instant the orb blooms into view—wide, startled.
"Lana! Grab that!" he calls.
"What—" she starts, but the glowing sphere accelerates. It collides with the fallen door and, with a sickening, impossible neatness, sinks into the wood as if slipping into an old wound.
"Dammit Reese!" Prius snaps.
"Reese?" Lana echoes.
"Don't tell me that Reese—" Tiger starts, then cuts off as pieces of the broken frame begin to twitch. Splinters rearrange like limbs; strips of wood slide and fasten together. Arms, legs, a torso—each formed from shattered frame and panel—assemble around the door. Finally, a head of the same glowing red material appears: two dot eyes and a thin line for a mouth. The improvised creature, animated by whatever chaotic prank Reese had set loose, stands upright. It stands tall.
"What's happening?!" Lana cries.
"That little fucker Reese is fucking with us again!" Prius spits, furious.
"Again?" Lana asks, bewildered.
Tiger gives a flat, rueful comment. "Even mascots have gimmicks, you know. And we got one of the most chaotic mascots who also just so happens to have one of the most chaotic gimmicks."
Prius strips off his tank top without hesitation. The man underneath is muscular and taut; his tattoos ripple and writhe along his skin as though alive.
"Tiger, go find that shit head!" Prius commands.
"On it." Tiger sprints back into the cabin.
Prius turns to Lana. "Lana, I haven't seen what you can do yet. Mind helping me out?"
Lana studies the door creature critically. "That... thing doesn't seem aggressive. It's just standing there."
Prius shrugs. "It takes a second for it to process that it's alive."
Whatever passes for comprehension flickers across the door's impassive orb-head. It looks around, bewildered, then, with dramatic exaggeration, points at Prius and Lana. The creature stomps once. The impact ripples outward; the ground seems to seed itself with doorframes. A chain of doors pins itself upright between the monster and the two of them. One manifests at Lana's feet and swings open beneath her; she tumbles into the yawning threshold and through a door that opens high above, falling from the sky.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" Lana screams.
Prius's tattoos surge like a living fortification. "Sick Tattoos: Cool Wings!" he cries, and the ink on his shoulders unfurls into feathered shapes. Those ink-sprites lift and peel away from his skin, congealing into a pair of enormous black wings that snap into solid form. Without a second to spare, Prius launches into the air, catching Lana mid-fall, hovering in a suspended tableau as wind whips their hair.
"You actually might have died there," he says, breathless.
Lana scrubs a hand over her forehead, eyes blazing. "That seriously doesn't matter. We need to focus on that... THING!"
They look down. The door creature tilts its head, clearly baffled by the panic it has caused. Prius offers a rueful tidbit. "Quick little fact about Reese's ability — his creations are dumbasses."
"Good to know, I suppose," Lana answers, grim.
The creature raises a hand and repeats the same ostentatious point. It produces, seemingly at will, a single floating door before itself. The door swings open. From the cavity, an intense, blinding light spills out—pure and loud, a spotlight that demands attention.
Prius cut across the air, voice snapping like a wire. "The hell—"
Then, as if fired from some ridiculous weapon, a volley of massive doorknobs launched from the open doorway, spinning through the air like deadly, polished bullets. Prius and Lana's eyes went wide, pupils blown up in instant alarm.
"Whooooop, going down!" Prius whooped, an absurd battle-cry that rode the chaos.
"WHAT!?" Lana screamed.
Prius dove, a blur of motion, weaving through the hurtling knobs. Each one thudded into the floor or lodged in splintered wood where it missed. Lana's shriek cut through the din. "AAAH!"
"Relax!" Prius called, though his voice held adrenaline. He landed hard, bringing Lana down into his arms. For a heartbeat they hovered — the moment held, taut as a wire — before he set her gently on the ground. The black wings that had formed from his tattoos folded back into his skin, inked feathers sliding obediently until they were only patterns again.
"Imma run and punch this thing up!" he declared, already sprinting forward.
Lana shot him a sharp look. "Saying it out-loud would give your plan away..."
"It has no ears, it won't hear me! Sick Tattoos: Cool Gauntlet!" he crowed. Ink shifted under his skin, mapping into a gauntlet on his right arm. The tattoo bulged and then projected outward, resolving into a solid black gauntlet that wrapped around his fist like molten shadow.
Prius lunged. The door creature, predictably theatrical, pointed at him with pomp and precision. As Prius closed, the creature snapped a door into existence directly in his path — a doorway that swallowed him whole.
No sooner had Prius vanished through that threshold than another door popped open beside Lana. Prius tumbled out of it, momentum carrying him forward and straight into her, knocking them both over in a messy clatter.
"Hey, ouch!" Lana protested, rubbing at where she'd been bumped.
"Damn, he caught me," Prius muttered, rubbing his shoulder, grinning despite himself.
They turned their attention back to the door creature, which seemed, again, bewildered by its own theatrics — peering and tilting its head in genuine confusion.
"The hell is its problem?" Prius asked.
"I can go and take a look," Lana offered.
"Wait what?" Prius blinked.
Without warning, Lana's irises inked over, swallowing the light until her eyes were pools of absolute black — like two voids blowing out the world.
"My gimmick is called Potent Omni. Let's just say that I can see anything I want, and that includes whatever that thing sees." Her voice had an edge now, clinical and certain. Using the ability, her perspective slid into the creature's mind. Darkness — total, oppressive dark — fell over her vision. Then a thin red outline scraped itself into being: the silhouette of Prius.
"As I thought!" Lana declared.
"Hm?" Prius answered, puzzled.
The creature lifted its arm and, with theatrical insistence, pointed at Prius again.
Lana's voice was steady, distant, as if relaying technical findings. "It's completely blind, but it focuses specifically on one target."
"How does it even focus on one person if it's blind?" Prius asked.
"I'll figure that out, just distract it!" Lana ordered.
"Happily! Sick Tattoos: Cool Fist!" Prius shouted. Ink crawled up his shoulder and condensed into a tattooed fist that reached outward, snapping into being as a real, black appendage. It extended like a piston and struck the door creature squarely in the face.
The monster made no effort to dodge. The punch landed with a heavy, splintering crack. It staggered, tipping awkwardly, but did not collapse.
"Lana, did it see that?!" Prius yelled.
"See what?" she replied, still tuned into the creature's sight.
"So it can't focus on more than one thing, interesting!" Prius observed — and the ground betrayed him. A door yawed open beneath his feet. He stumbled and fell through.
Another portal opened immediately behind the creature. Prius fell through that one, dropping into the creature's blind-sight without it noticing at all.
"You're gone from its sights!" Lana announced.
The creature spun, baffled, looking around frantically.
"So this thing is so stupid that it doesn't even know where its own doors open?" Prius snarked, landing lightly a few paces away.
"I think if you leave its line of sight, it completely loses track of you," Lana said, calmer now.
"Brilliant," Prius said, approving.
Lana's vision, still burrowed in that empty dark, flicked: another outline — a new presence — flared into the creature's blind-sight. Her tone dropped.
"Oh no."
The creature pointed, once more and with exaggerated drama, right at Lana.
"Hell no!" Prius shouted. He coiled and leapt, bringing a swift, arcing kick into the side of the creature's head. The blow sent it crashing to its side like a toppled puppet. Prius planted himself between Lana and the fallen monstrosity.
"Now that you exposed its weaknesses, this thing should be easy to beat!" he announced, chest heaving.
The creature clambered back up and, predictably, pointed again at Prius. Lana's eyes slid back to normal, their black sheen receding.
"Well, beat it fast," Lana urged.
Prius puffed up with swagger. "I'm an all-star for a reason, babes." He dropped his hands to the back of his head and flexed, theatrical and smug.
"Don't call me babe," Lana snapped.
"Sick Tattoos: Cool Designs!!!" Prius bellowed, refusing to be deterred. Black lines erupted from his skin like writhing ink-serpents. They shot outward and braided themselves around the door creature, each tendril wrapping a different limb, constricting like living rope. The creature struggled, its motion stuttering as it was bound.
Prius charged, coiled his gauntleted fist, and shouted, "And this is what I call, BLACK POWER!!!"
His blow slammed into the creature's door-shaped torso with a shattering crack. Wood exploded outward; the red orb head fizzed and dispersed like embers scattered by a gust. Makeshift arms and legs clattered apart and skittered away. The black tendrils drew back, sliding obediently into the tattooed patterns on Prius's skin until he looked, once more, like a man covered in living ink.
Prius cocked his head, curiosity flickering across his face like a match struck in dusk. "You never figured out how it can lock onto something it can't even see."
Lana brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, calm washing over the adrenaline. "It doesn't matter now, we won."
Prius let the thought hang a second longer, the question itching at him. "I'm still kinda curious... speaking of curious—"
At that moment Tiger stepped out of the cabin, dust clinging to the hem of his shirt. His words fell like a stone into a suddenly quiet pool. "Reese escaped."
Silence spread through them, heavy as a drawn curtain. For a couple of seconds no one moved; even the air seemed to wait, taut.
"Well, shit." Prius finally said, the word half-resignation, half-grim amusement.