The transport rattled over broken pavement, tires thudding against scattered debris. Inside, the hum of the engine felt too loud, too frail against the silence of the soldiers seated around Aya.
They didn't look at her.
Two men polished their rifles mechanically. Another muttered a prayer under his breath, his dog tags rattling with each syllable. The only sound near Aya was the faint hiss of her own breaths into the mask they had strapped over her face.
It wasn't her uniform. It wasn't her weapon. None of it ever was.
Aya stared down at her hands—her *hands,* pale and delicate now, not borrowed ones. CTI had insisted she ride in her own body until ready to Overdive again. As though it mattered.
They feared her.
She caught their avoided glances, the subtle inching away on the benches. These were the same men she had once guided in combat—only, when their bodies died, she had walked away. She had lived. They hadn't.
*A parasite,* she thought bitterly. *That's what I am to them.*
The city came into view as the transport rolled to a halt. Smoke bloomed across the Manhattan skyline like mourning veils. Whole blocks sagged where the ground had split. Firelight licked shattered windows while sirens wailed faintly in the distance—too far, and too hopeless.
And above it all, the Babel towered.
Its grotesque spire shimmered against the dusk, pulsing with sickly light. Aya felt its heartbeat reverberate up through the broken street as soon as her boots touched the asphalt.
Her stomach knotted. Her skin crawled. She swore she heard a whisper at the edge of her mind—something between calling and warning.
The squad leader barked orders: "Secure the perimeter, cover the sectors. No hesitation."
The soldiers fanned out, rifles raised. Aya followed, though part of her wished to run. Each step forward dragged heavier than the last, like the Babel itself tugged her closer.
Then the pavement burst open.
A cacophony of shrieks tore the air. Twisted forms clambered out—a cluster of spindly, insect‑like beasts, claws scraping sparks.
Gunfire erupted.
Aya ducked behind a scorched sedan, heart pounding. She clenched her fists. Bodies would fall. *Her path to survival would mean theirs to death.*
And then it happened: one soldier cried out as a Twisted slammed into him, jaws closing on his shoulder.
Aya's instincts screamed. Without moving her lips, she let go.
Her spirit ripped free.
The battlefield blurred in a streak of light, and then—impact.
Arms heavier, rifle steadier, panic racing in veins not hers. She was inside the soldier before he even registered her presence. His wound sealed away, his fear still gnawing but buried beneath her will.
He gasped as though possessed. "What—what the hell—"
Aya cut him off with gunfire, forcing his body to steady. Bullets ripped into the Twisted until it dissolved into ash.
The others stared. She felt their fear sharper now—not at the creature, but at *her.*
One soldier hissed, "She's riding him now…"
Aya wanted to scream she wasn't a monster, but the words died. Because in this moment—puppeting another's body, tasting his thoughts, drowning his voice—she wasn't sure.
More Twisted erupted. Instinct drove her ever onward, slipstreaming between bodies to keep the perimeter intact. Every dive stolen, every life swallowed by hers. Her heart—and theirs—beat out of rhythm until she couldn't tell which was which.
Minutes, or maybe hours later, the last shriek was silenced.
Ash rained down across the ruin. The squad regrouped, panting, staring at Aya with haunted eyes. Some stepped back when she approached, as though she carried plague.
But none dared speak—until the young private she had just borrowed whispered, trembling, "Please… don't use me again."
Aya's throat constricted. She wanted to tell him that she hadn't *wanted* to. That she was human too. But silence was all she gave him.
Because deep down, she feared she *wanted* to. Every transfer gave her power, gave her survival. And it shamed her how addicting it felt.
The Babel loomed closer now, its pulse shaking the street.
Aya shuddered. Whatever waited inside, it wasn't done with her.
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