Karl's sleep was heavy, yet fragile. The alcohol, exhaustion, and his overburn-induced adrenaline left him teetering on the edge between rest and unrest. Shadows swirled at the edges of his vision, fog coiling like smoke around the broken walls of the abandoned Denver hub.
His sleep was fitful, the remnants of alcohol and exhaustion twisting his dreams into uneasy shapes. The room around him—the abandoned Denver hub—faded, replaced by a cold, gray fog that stretched in all directions. He tried to move, but his limbs felt weighted with lead.
Then, the fog thickened, solidifying into a hallway of endless gray. The air was thick, suffocating, pressing against Karl's chest with a weight he couldn't name. His body moved automatically, feet stumbling over nothing, arms flailing for balance.
And then she appeared.
A girl. Dirty blonde hair, wild and tangled, framing a face pale as ash. Her two irises were impossible to look away from—like molten gold trapped in darkness. She didn't move at first, only stood in the mist, radiating a still, oppressive aura of death. Every instinct in Karl screamed to turn, to flee, but his body froze in place.
"You… are next."
The words weren't loud—they weren't even spoken aloud—but they echoed in his mind, unnatural and vibrating against his skull. Karl's pulse spiked. He tried to say something—anything—but his throat constricted, words failing him.
A chill slithered down his spine, crawling along his nerves like icy fingers. His skin prickled, hairs standing on end, though he didn't know why. There was no threat he could see. Nothing moved toward him. And yet… fear coursed through him, deep and primal, the kind that made muscles quiver and knees weaken.
Karl tried to step back. His legs wobbled like rubber. "W-who…? Wh-what—"
The girl tilted her head slightly, almost curious, almost amused. Her presence seemed to ripple through the fog, making the gray walls themselves bend and quiver. The weight pressing on him intensified. It wasn't her words—he barely understood them—it was something else, a sensation he could not name.
He shivered uncontrollably, chest tightening, sweat beading along his hairline. His hands trembled.
A sudden, sharp slap broke the haze. Pain flared across his cheek, and he gasped, stumbling upright.
"Karl! Wake up, you idiot!"
Agnes' voice cut through the dream like a whip, breathy, urgent, yet anchored in the world. Her nanite hand had smacked him across the face, the impact jarring him fully awake.
Karl sat up with a start, sweat-soaked and heart hammering. The fog was gone. The gray hallway vanished, replaced by the dim, dusty light of the Denver hub. He blinked rapidly, trying to steady himself, chest heaving.
"I… I… there was a girl… two irises…" he muttered, voice trembling. "…and she… said I'm next…"
Agnes hovered over him, holographic hair flicking slightly as she studied him. "Karl… you're fine. You're just… hungover. That's all. Nothing else."
Karl nodded shakily, trying to catch his breath. His body still quivered, not from fear he understood, but from some strange, deep instinct he couldn't explain.
He didn't know it, but the chill, the aura, the tension—it wasn't really her he was afraid of. It was something else. Something attached. Something unseen. Karl had no clue. All he knew was the trembling, the icy press against his chest, the whisper of "you are next" lingering in his mind.
Agnes reached out, placing a calming holographic hand on his shoulder. "Breathe, Karl. Focus on the real world. You're awake. You're fine. Just… relax."
Karl exhaled shakily, still trembling, still sweating. "Yeah… yeah… okay…"
Agnes straightened, a faint, smug hum slipping through her voice, but beneath it, a tiny, unspoken tension lingered—she felt it too. Something was off, though she didn't yet understand what.
"Drink some water… or just sit for a moment. You need to calm down," she instructed softly, her holographic form shimmering in the faint light.
Karl sank back against the wall, hands pressed to his knees, eyes wide. He didn't know why his body still shook. He didn't know why his mind refused to release that memory, that aura. All he knew was that whatever he had seen—whatever had whispered "you are next"—had left a mark.
And in the back of his mind, unnoticed by either of them, something had anchored itself silently, riding the tremors of his fear and his alcohol-worn body.
Karl shivered again, his muscles still taut, and whispered to himself, "What… was that?"
Agnes gave him a gentle, almost indulgent pat on the shoulder. "Nothing you need to worry about, Karl. Just… your first night alone in a ruined city after a very, very bad hangover."
But the unease lingered. The girl with two irises. The whisper. The cold. Something had shifted. Something unseen had taken note.
Karl closed his eyes, trying to shake it off. Agnes watched him carefully, sensing the remnants of the nightmare, her form hovering protectively.
And for now, that was all.