The Plan Of The Childhood Friends

Shannon held the two glowing green vials between her fingers, the liquid inside swirling with the kind of eerie glow that only memories extracted by force could give off. She stared at them for a long moment before slipping them into a secure compartment in her coat. The green hue flickered against her cheekbones as she stepped through a swirling portal and reappeared inside her apartment.

Her place was quiet, modern, but lived-in, nestled in one of the upside-down skyscrapers hanging from the unseen top of the city. The gravity here made no sense, yet she didn't question it anymore. Not in this world. Not in Erae.

With a groan, she collapsed onto the couch and let her head sink into the cushions. The green light of the memory vials still glowed faintly from the pocket of her coat, a dull reminder that she had practically killed the two world leaders.

Technically, no—just memory extraction. But in practice? She might as well have.

Still, she didn't care. She wasn't expected to.

Evening in this place was abstract. She saw the sunrise every day from her window, but never the sunset. The other half of the city, the part below, only got the sunset, never the sunrise. A bizarre celestial divide that no one had dared to explain. And she wasn't dumb enough to ask questions. The last person who did… well, they didn't talk anymore. Or breathe.

Her mind barely had time to process before a pulse tickled her consciousness. A telepathic link.

"Shannon," Phaser's voice echoed clearly inside her mind, low and casual as ever. "Status?"

She didn't move, just replied mentally while staring at the ceiling.

"It's done. I've got their memories. Both of them. The president and the Marimus Faction Master. Everything we need. World government infrastructure, faction activity, tactical bases... you name it. It's ours."

There was a brief silence before he answered.

"They'll think they died during the HOD event in Singapore."

"Exactly," Shannon muttered aloud now, sitting up. "And with the time difference, that world's already three days ahead. One day here, three on Earth. They'll write it off as another tragedy. No one will question it. Hell, they probably burned what was left of their corpses hours ago."

Another silence. Then Phaser spoke again.

"This is why Rogue Flux Elites are feared. We're not just strong. We operate outside time. They can't catch us even if they tried."

Shannon gave a short laugh. "Let them try."

A pause. Then Phaser's tone shifted slightly.

"What about Permonelle?"

Shannon exhaled. She had a feeling that question would come up.

"She's not going to be liked. You know that, right? The others—especially the older Rogues—they'll hate her just because she's under your protection. She didn't earn her position the way they did. They'll see her as weak and soft."

"She's not," Phaser said immediately, and Shannon could almost hear his jaw tighten. "She'll handle it."

"I hope so. No one's dumb enough to try anything. At least, not directly. But you know how they are. She's already being watched."

"And?" Phaser asked, like it wasn't even worth his attention.

Shannon raised a brow, even though he couldn't see it.

"You are literally the most wanted man in the Eresnae. Half the women here have fantasies about you. You know Suprema Beta wants you to marry one of her daughters just because of your Flux Rating. And your Flux."

"And I told her I'd rather marry a lurker from the Cursed Basin," Phaser replied dryly.

"Would probably be a more peaceful life," Shannon chuckled, then turned serious again. "Look, we need to give Permonelle something. A mission. Something that proves she's not just under your protection, but that she's one of us."

"I agree," Phaser said.

"And I have one." Shannon stood from the couch, walking toward her small kitchen as she pulled out a screen tablet. "I was gonna handle it myself, but… she'll be perfect. It's dangerous, high-risk, and will shut everyone up if she pulls it off. No more whispers. Just fear and respect."

Phaser's voice echoed again, this time more thoughtful.

"Good. Send me the details. If anyone has a problem with her… they'll answer to me."

Shannon paused, hand hovering above the screen. Her expression didn't change.

"Then it's done."

And with that, the link cut.

--------

Phaser lay sprawled across the dark, neatly made bed in his quarters, a single dim light casting a cold, pale glow across his face. The walls of his room were matte black, humming faintly with magnetic shielding, the usual for a Rogue Flux Elite of his rating.

He held the screen Shannon had sent him in one hand, scanning line by line with those calculating, expressionless eyes of his. At first, it seemed like a standard classified directive, buried under ten layers of clearance. But then he reached the mission location, and actually hissed through his teeth.

"The Cursed Basin…" he muttered aloud, brows twitching just slightly. "Shannon, you psycho."

His tone wasn't annoyed. It was almost impressed. But what he read was undeniably brutal.

The Cursed Basin wasn't just another hellhole. It was the hellhole, a breachpoint that had never been sealed. A region on the farthest reach of Reversal Cradlepoint's influence, where anomalies warped the terrain, gravity shifted on a whim, and death came in forms even Flux didn't always respond to. It wasn't so much a battlefield as it was a death sentence.

Even 6 to 7 Rating Flux Rogues hesitated before accepting missions there.

"Survival rate… less than ten percent," Phaser muttered as he scrolled. His thumb hovered over the small embedded videos. They were helmet footage, most ending in static and screams. He didn't need to watch them. He already knew how those stories ended.

And yet... Shannon had picked this mission.

He closed the tablet slowly and stared at the ceiling. That same stoic expression still painted his face, but something flickered behind his eyes. Cold logic, slicing through everything else.

As much as he wanted to protect Permonelle—hell, he'd been ordered to protect her by Sera, the angel who somehow still dared to meddle with him—this wasn't about safety anymore.

Protection wasn't the same as pampering. And pampering someone like her, someone who had to survive not just in missions but among Rogues who were as cruel as the world they fought in, would destroy her more than any monster ever could.

She had to suffer just enough to sharpen.

If her Flux hadn't fully awakened yet, maybe this mission would trigger it. The Basin had a way of... changing people. The ones who came back always came back different, smarter, faster, stronger, or more broken.

But if she made it out… she'd be one of the true Rogues. She wouldn't just survive but thrive. And she would have a real home, one that respected power above everything else.

He sighed and rested the screen over his chest.

"Sorry, Sera," he murmured. "I'm leaving her to fate."

He didn't say it bitterly. He said it with precision and acceptance. Some things couldn't be decided by coddling or control. In this world, the only way to belong was to bleed.

Fortunately, the mission didn't leave until four days from now. Four days was all he had. Four days to break her and remake her in the image of a survivor. If she wasn't ready by then, she never would be.

"Four days, Permonelle," he said to himself, eyes narrowing as he sat up. "Try not to die."