The world came back in ragged pieces.
First, there was the sound—a low, mechanical hum that was too steady, too controlled to be natural. Then came the light, dim and soft, filtering through his eyelids. And finally, the pain arrived, crashing over him like a secondary wave.
Jessie's eyes snapped open.
He tried to move, but his body refused to acknowledge the command. For a terrifying heartbeat, he thought he was paralyzed. Then, sensation flooded back all at once, centered entirely in his right arm. It felt like it didn't belong to him anymore—as if someone had taken a blowtorch to his nerves and burned him from the inside out.
He sucked in a sharp, jagged breath. "...gh—"
"Don't."
Leo's voice was close. Jessie turned his head slightly to find Leo sitting right there, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching him with an intensity that was hard to meet.
"...How long?" Jessie managed to mutter.
"A few hours."
Jessie blinked, the ceiling tiles coming into focus. "...That's it?"
Leo gave a dry, humorless half-smile. "...Felt longer."
Silence followed. Jessie tried to flex his fingers. His arm responded, but it was sluggish—weak and delayed, like a signal traveling through a frayed wire. That scared him more than the burning.
"...I'm good," Jessie said automatically, the lie slipping out from muscle memory.
Leo didn't even flinch. "...Stop saying that."
Jessie's jaw tightened. "I am."
"You weren't."
Jessie looked away, unable to maintain the stare. "...I just pushed too hard."
Leo leaned back, his chair creaking. "...No. You lost control."
"Same thing," Jessie countered, his voice rising with a flicker of his usual defiance.
"No," Leo said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "...It's not."
The silence that filled the room this time was heavier, thicker. It was the silence of a growing gap between them.
The Difference
Leo stood up and began to pace, his steps rhythmic on the sterile floor. "I hit every target, Jess. No pain. No... whatever that was that happened to you."
Jessie didn't respond. He didn't have to.
Leo stopped pacing and looked at him. "...Why is it different for you?"
Jessie swallowed hard. He knew the answer. It had a name, and it was currently woven into his DNA. PRIME. But he wasn't ready to say it. He wasn't ready to admit he was sharing his skull with a tactical AI that thought he was a failing battery.
"...I don't know."
Leo stared at him, his cybernetic eye whirring with a microscopic adjustment. "...You're lying."
Jessie's expression hardened. "...Drop it."
Leo let out a short, sharp laugh. "...There it is."
Ignoring the scream of protest from his nerves, Jessie sat up. "What?"
"That thing you do," Leo said, gesturing toward him. "Where you shut down instead of just saying what's going on. We're in this together, remember?"
Jessie's voice dropped an octave, turning dangerous. "...I said drop it."
Leo didn't back down. "Or what?"
Silence. Cold and absolute. And there it was—the first real line drawn in the sand between them.
The Void
Before Jessie could snap back, the world shifted. It wasn't a physical movement, but a mental one. The room dimmed, Leo's voice faded into a muffled echo, and the walls of the medical wing dissolved into nothingness.
Suddenly, Jessie was somewhere else.
The Void. It was endless, a deep, pulsating blue that felt perfectly still. Jessie stood there, and for the first time since the training floor, he felt whole. No pain. No weakness.
"...You always do this," he muttered to the empty expanse.