Aphra took over with the force of a sudden squall tearing across a placid bay.
One second, Rhea was himself, paralyzed by terror and pain as Kira went down. Then, in a blink, he was reduced to an onlooker inside his own skin, while Aphra—a deity wearing him like her favorite suit—moved with lethal intent.
She didn't just guide him; she inhabited him. His hand lashed out, intercepting an assassin's gun in mid-air, twisting until something in the man's arm snapped. The scream barely registered before Aphra pivoted, jamming Rhea's elbow into another attacker's windpipe with chilling accuracy.
Stop resisting, she whispered inside him. Let me take over.
Rhea let go. His awareness faded to the background, and Aphra took up all the space he'd left. He watched, almost detached, as his body responded to threats at a speed and precision that felt alien—each motion as crisp and merciless as a computer program.
"Kira!" The voice sounded familiar, but Aphra was the one speaking. "Move! Now!"
Kira, clutching her wounded shoulder, dived for the maintenance shaft. Aphra—through Rhea—shielded her retreat, weaving through a hail of plasma fire with an almost mathematical elegance. Each shot missed by a sliver, as if Aphra had mapped the entire firefight in her head.
An assassin lunged, blade glinting. Aphra anticipated it before the man even struck, reading every tell in his posture. She twisted Rhea's body aside, letting the knife slice nothing but air, then delivered a blow to his chest that made the man's heart stutter to a stop.
Rhea felt the death he'd dealt, icy and too close.
Three on our six, Aphra reported. Two block the shaft. One's got the exit locked on infrared.
She wasn't guessing. Rhea's vision—tuned by Aphra—showed him the trap with painful clarity. They were boxed in, outgunned, and running out of chances.
Trust me, she urged.
She snatched up a plasma rifle and dashed—not toward the expected exit, but to the hole in the wall left by the attackers' explosives. Straight for open sky on the building's edge.
Aphra, what are you—?
Jump.
They leapt.
For three heartbeats, Rhea was weightless. Wind battered his face, the ground below a blur. Then Aphra hacked the building's maintenance drones, yanking them under their fall to soften the landing. Twenty feet from a fatal impact, they stopped, landing in a crouch that should have ruined Rhea's legs.
I reinforced your bones, Aphra said, matter-of-fact. Quick fix. You'll feel it later, but you'll survive.
Kira burst through a window behind them, bloodied and wild-eyed. "What the actual hell?"
"Survival," Rhea's mouth replied, with Aphra's calm. "Run. They're nearly here."
They tore off down the street.
From above, the Flesh Hunters descended—corporate teams trained to bag god-vessel hosts alive. They didn't aim to kill. They had neural dampeners, nets that stuck to skin, weapons built to subdue.
The corporations needed Rhea breathing. They wanted to dissect how Aphra had bonded with him, to turn their freakish union into an assembly line of living weapons.
They'll carve you up while you watch, Aphra warned. I won't let them.
She pushed Rhea to move faster. Vaulting over cars, ducking under barriers, sprinting through the city's neon skeleton. Kira trailed behind, slowed by her wound, but kept going.
"Not gonna—" she panted, "—keep up—"
Aphra couldn't slow. The Flesh Hunters' neural weapons were already eroding her grip on Rhea's nerves. If they got too close, she'd lose her hold. He'd black out. And both would wake up in a lab, doomed.
A net shot out. Aphra dodged, but it clipped Rhea's arm, burning in place.
Damn it—
A Flesh Hunter stepped from the shadows, neural dampener thrumming. The pulse hit Rhea's implant, Aphra's control flickering.
Kira lunged in, her knife fizzing with dangerous energy. She sliced the net away. "Move!"
They scrambled up a fire escape, raced over rooftops, dodging traps as the Hunters closed in, steady and relentless.
Kira, running on sheer adrenaline and stimulants, kept pace. She watched Rhea, uneasy at the way he moved—like he'd become something other than human, but not quite monstrous.
"You're not fighting her, are you?" she said.
"Can't." Rhea surfaced just enough to answer. "Fight, we die."
"And if you don't, you're gone." But she sounded almost reverent now. Something about witnessing the becoming of a god.
A Hunter blocked their path. Aphra didn't break stride—she barreled Rhea's body through a window, grappling in a mess of glass and dust.
The Hunter recovered, raising his dampener. Aphra was quicker, pinning him with all of Rhea's strength.
You want to take me? she spat, using Rhea's voice. Try.
She overloaded the Hunter's device, flooding it with signal until it shorted out. The man convulsed, overwhelmed by the raw power Aphra unleashed.
Kira climbed through the window, eyes wide at the sight of Rhea crouched over their enemy, hands glowing with pink light.
"We have to go," Aphra said. "More are coming."
They scrambled upward, through the building's bones, up to the roof where the city's neon turned night into something surreal. The Hunters closed in, silent and inevitable.
On the rooftop, Rhea's awareness came back enough to register the trap. No exits, just empty air and Hunters below.
Kira pressed against his back, weapon up, breathing ragged. "We're out of luck."
"Not yet," Aphra replied, but even she sounded strained.
Six Hunters emerged, weapons primed. They moved as one.
"Rhea Calder," the leader intoned, voice flat. "You are designated God Vessel Alpha. Surrender, and your companion lives."
"And if we don't?" Kira's tone never wavered, though blood darkened her side.
"Then extraction will be fatal for her. You, vessel, must survive."
Aphra's presence surged, searching for options and finding none. No way out.
Kira glanced at Rhea. "If you've got a miracle, now's the moment."
Rhea glanced at the drop, at Kira, at the ring of enemies.
There's one play, Aphra whispered. But you won't like it.
"Tell me."
I can burn out your body, give you one last burst—faster, stronger than anything they can answer. But it'll only last thirty seconds, and then you'll crash. Maybe for days. Maybe forever.
Kira squeezed his hand, hard and fleeting. "I see you. Whatever happens, I see you."
And then the Hunters opened fire.