It's day sixty-four on the Arkvault, a seven-mile zoo of cosmic snowflakes, and I'm buzzing like a pre-workout shake at the thought of seeing Fiona. I catch my reflection in Unit 59's mirror, cheeks pinker than my red-and-black suit. "Get a grip, Coach," I mutter, grinning. Fiona's confession yesterday—her stammered "us together?" and shy nod—has my heart doing burpees. My bracelet, that cheeky glowing bangle, pings: Log saved. Query: Blushing cardio stats? "You're loving this, aren't you?" I chuckle, grabbing my plasma pistol, glowing blades, and power fist, flux tingling faintly in my palms. Single—well, maybe not for long—I'm Coach Bounce, ready to ramble with a spring in my step.
Outside our Habitat-382 flats, Fiona's waiting, white-and-black suit sleek, flux staff's orb pulsing softly, her blonde braid catching the fake sunlight. Dmitri looms, orange-and-black suit snug, magma spear retracted, shield folded. "New quest," Dmitri grunts, eyes glinting. Fiona smirks, her glance at me quick but warm. "Let's make it a good one," she says, voice softer than her Dublin edge. I nod, flux sparking. "Earthly Ramblers, time to climb that rank ladder!" We teleport to the Guild dome, its red pulse throbbing like a cosmic heart.
The receptionist, a spiky Vordex with eyes like laser pointers, hums through our bracelets: "E-rank team, Earthly Ramblers. Promotional rank test assigned—exterminate pests in Habitat-411, desert habitat. Snake-like eels, non-poisonous, weak individually, but numerous. Residents are strong, rocky, slow—can't catch them. Kill as many as possible, including the queen." I blink. "Snake eels? In sand?" Fiona's staff pulses. "Better than thrusters." Dmitri's spear tip glows. "Let's squash them." The clerk nods. "Your speed and skills suit this. Succeed, and D-rank awaits." My bracelet logs: Mission assigned. Query: Pest control workout plan? "Cheeky," I mutter, grinning.
We zap to Habitat-411, landing in a scorching desert, sand stretching like a golden sea. Stone houses huddle in the center, carved from jagged rock, blending with the rocky residents—hulking, boulder-like aliens with glowing cracks in their skin, moving like tectonic plates. The teleporter, a sleek metal pillar, stands out like a sore thumb among the stone. "This place is a rock gym," I say, suit humming, boosting me fivefold. Fiona's eyes scan the sand, staff shifting to bow mode. "Flux is faint here," she murmurs. Dmitri's shield flickers with wind. "Slow rock guys, fast eels. Easy." But the sand ripples, slithering like a living thing, eels darting beneath in writhing waves. "Blimey," I whisper, gripping my pistol. "It's a snake pit on steroids."
I draw my glowing blades, flux reinforcing my grip, and slash at a darting eel, slicing it clean. "One down, a million to go!" Fiona's flux arrows arc like lightning, pinning eels with precision, though one shot burrows into sand, missing. "Slippery buggers," she grumbles, her glance at me lingering, a shy smile breaking through. Dmitri's spear scorches eels, his shield flaring with fire to block their lunges. "Like swatting flies," he growls, but a wave of eels nearly trips him. My bracelet pings: Activity: Sand snake slaughter. Query: Eel-slicing PR? "Focus, bangle," I laugh, dodging a slither.
The rocky residents watch, their slow nods approving. "Queen's deeper," one rumbles via bracelet. The sand's alive, eels swarming, but we're faster, our training—flux for me and Fiona, elemental block for Dmitri—kicking in. I tie a binding rope to anchor us, my power fist smashing eels. Fiona's staff shifts to sword mode, carving through sand. Dmitri's wind-shield scatters a wave, his spear glowing red-hot. "Ramblers, we've got this!" I yell, heart racing—not just from eels, but Fiona's smile. I'm Coach Bounce, slicing snakes and stealing glances, one sandy step from D-rank.