The training room was still active.
Even after the blowout, even after the blackout, the facility's heart kept beating. The lights remained blindingly bright, the panels hummed with a low-frequency vibration, and the targets were already resetting, cycling back into their starting positions as if nothing had happened.
Jessie stepped in first this time.
He didn't rush. He didn't force the air into his lungs or the energy into his limbs. He moved with a deliberate, haunting focus. Leo followed a few paces behind, quieter than usual, his cybernetic eye whirring in the silence. He was watching. He was thinking.
Because something had changed in the way Jessie carried himself.
Jessie walked to the center of the room and stopped. He raised his hand slowly. There was no shaking this time—no immediate, white-hot flare of agony. Just a cold, hard sense of control.
"...Again," he said.
The system responded instantly. Targets appeared, drifting through the air in complex, overlapping patterns.
"Begin."
Control
Jessie exhaled. He didn't reach for the power; he allowed it to pool in his palm, small and contained. He held it there, refusing to rush the discharge. He waited until the rhythm felt right, until the blue glow was a steady pinpoint of light.
Then, he fired.
A tight, concentrated pulse of energy shot forward.
Hit.
It was clean. No explosion, no kinetic backlash, no scorched walls. Jessie blinked, a small, hollow sense of victory blooming in his chest.
"...Okay."
Leo nodded slightly from the periphery. "...That's better."
Jessie fired again. Another clean hit. Then another. Each shot was precise, clinical, and—most importantly—painless. For a fleeting moment, it felt right. It felt like he was finally steering the ship instead of just clinging to the mast.
Leo Moves
Then Leo stepped forward, the green glow of his eye intensifying. "...My turn."
Jessie lowered his hand and watched. Leo didn't hesitate. He didn't have to slow down or find a rhythm; he was the rhythm.
The targets launched in a frantic swarm. Leo turned—a fluid, effortless motion—and fired.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Three shots. Three perfect hits. There was no delay, no visible buildup of energy. He moved again, jumping and twisting mid-air with the grace of an acrobat, firing downward as he crested.
Direct hit. He landed smoothly, his feet barely making a sound on the composite floor. It was natural. It was as easy for him as breathing.
Jessie stared. The gap between them wasn't just physical; it was fundamental.
The Gap
"...How are you doing that?" Jessie asked, his voice sounding thin in the vast room.
Leo shrugged, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "...I don't know. I just—do it."
That simple answer hit harder than a physical blow. Jessie looked down at his hand. To achieve even a fraction of that result, he had to focus, slow down, and negotiate with an AI. Leo just... was.
"...Must be nice," Jessie muttered.
Leo frowned, his shoulders tensing. "...What's that supposed to mean?"
Jessie didn't look up. "...Nothing."
Escalation
"Increase difficulty," Jessie commanded.
"Jessie—" Leo started, his voice warning.
"I said increase it!"
The system hummed in compliance. The number of targets doubled. Their speed tripled. Their movements became jagged and unpredictable. Jessie raised his hand again, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Energy formed—controlled, at first. He fired.
Hit.
Another.
Hit.
But they were coming faster now, harder to track. Jessie's breathing picked up, the thin veneer of his control beginning to crack under the pressure. His focus slipped for a fraction of a second.
Leo stepped in, moving faster than the eye could follow.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The targets dropped instantly, obliterated by Leo's effortless precision. Jessie's own shot went wide, dissipating harmlessly against the far wall. He froze, his hand still raised, his chest heaving.
Collision
"...You don't have to keep up with me," Leo said, his voice cautious.
Jessie snapped his head around. "...What?"
"I'm just saying," Leo continued, stepping closer. "...You don't have to push yourself like that."
Jessie laughed—a short, sharp sound that held no mirth. "...Right."
"That's not what I meant," Leo countered.
Jessie stepped forward, his eyes burning. "No, I get it. You're better. You don't struggle. You don't feel anything."
"That's not my fault, Jess!"
"I didn't say it was!" Jessie shouted, the sound echoing off the walls.
Silence hit the room like a physical weight, but Jessie couldn't stop. The frustration was a floodgate that had finally given way. "...But don't stand there and tell me to slow down."
Leo's expression shifted from concern to something harder. "...I'm trying to help you."
Jessie shook his head. "...No. You're trying to make it easier."
"And what's wrong with that?"
Jessie's eyes sharpened, the blue light beginning to leak from the corners of his vision. "...Everything."
PRIME Pushes
Inside the cockpit of his mind, the system surged.