A fog rolled in over the town of Montelimar. Ripples formed in the Rhone river, as the Proud Mary rose from the water. Inside the cargo hold, food, books, and other supplies rained down around Michaela. Peepshow shambled towards Michaela, chains rattling from the stand’s legs.

“Xanadu!” commanded Michaela. “I desire to restrain Peepshow!”

Rocks flew off of the ground, and formed into a statue of world-famous wrestler John Cena. The stone wrestler grappled onto Peepshow, trapping the stand in a headlock. Michaela’s bloody foot slid backwards. Peepshow’s mouth wrenched open in a silent scream. The leather of Michaela’s jacket and pants began to warp, and slowly started tearing. Suddenly, Michaela’s jacket burst into shreds. Michaela’s empty water flask clattered to the ground, and a blue feather with a golden L-shaped pattern floated close behind. The feather sailed to the ground, landing at Peepshow’s feet. Peepshow’s singular eyeball trained down to the feather, swiveling around in curiosity.

“I see…” said Michaela. “It seems Virginia was right. This whole time, you’ve been chasing the Secret Step. Still, this was fortuitous! Because now, I can make a Summer Knight without compromising my Ultimate Desire! Xanadu!”

The velvet stand appeared next to its user. Michaela leaned over her stand, and began flipping through her spellbook.

“My stand’s book contains every desire I have,” explained Michaela, “No matter how sweeping, shameful, mundane, or fleeting. And in this case… I desire to pick up the Secret Step from the floor of the cargo hold!”

Xanadu tore a page from the book. It flew to the floor, and water from nearby puddles flew up to the paper. The page dissolved in the water as the spell formed into an angry goose.

“Summer Knight!” shouted Michaela. “By removing one of my desires, I can target your own! You’ll never reach that feather!”

The wet goose aggressively honked and flapped its wings. Peepshow stretched an arm out of John Cena’s grasp, towards the Secret Step on the ground. Suddenly, the goose stopped. It waddled around in confusion, sniffing the air. Peepshow snatched the feather from the ground, and examined its glittering gold pattern in the dim light of the cargo hold.

“Wh-what?! That’s impossible!” gasped Michaela. “Peepshow picked up the feather without triggering Summer Knight’s tracking! Sure, fine, that just means the stand isn’t automatic or sentient. But… Summer Knight also didn’t lock onto the user!”

Peepshow gripped the feather as its gaze turned to Michaela. “Xanadu’s regular spells may only have a range of a few meters,” continued Michaela, “But a Summer Knight can track a target across time zones! So if Summer Knight didn’t track anyone outside the boat, that means the enemy stand user didn’t desire the feather from the cargo hold either! How did Peepshow reach for the feather without either the stand or the user desiring it?!”

Peepshow’s skin cracked slightly as its mouth wrenched open. Suddenly, dozens of sharp pains rapidly shot through Michaela’s nerves. Michaela looked down to see tiny chunks of her own flesh, torn from all across her body’s surface.

“Wh-what the hell are this stand’s attacks?!” sputtered Michaela. “It’s like I’m being attacked by a flock of birds…!”

Michaela gasped. She looked down to the bloody chunks of muscle on the floor.

“It’s not ‘like’ I got attacked by birds…” whispered Michaela. “From Peepshow’s perspective, it DID attack me with birds! Peepshow’s strange miming, the seemingly-random outbursts, the fact that it hasn’t killed me yet even though it’s easily strong enough to do so. The enemy isn’t just some sort of weirdo - it’s a disconnect in the stand’s perception and the user’s perception! Peepshow is indeed a remote control stand, and every stimulus it receives is transferred over to the user. However, the user’s view of the world as a whole isn’t accurate to reality!”

Peepshow wiggled, struggling to escape John Cena’s grasp. “The user saw me and chose to attack me,” continued Michaela, “But Peepshow’s specific attacks are due to its perception! It mimed a hammer because the user thought they were holding a hammer! The skin on my face peeled off because the user thought they were peeling my face! And the reason the user thought this… is because they’re dreaming!”

The wet goose waddled up to Michaela, looking up expectantly. “That’s why Summer Knight couldn’t target the user or the stand!” said Michaela. “Peepshow saw something its user wanted to pick up, but I specifically targeted the desire to pick the feather from the cargo hold. For all I know, the user saw a gold bar on the moon, or a family photo on the beach! It’s impossible to attribute any specific desire to a dreaming person!”

Peepshow’s form began to melt into a liquid form, falling from John Cena’s hands. “And… time in dreams flows differently from real time!” said Michaela, taking a step back. “That’s why Peepshow has to change its state of matter - to keep its actual speed in sync with the user’s dream speed! Which means… oh no.”

Michaela spun around and dashed away, limping from the glass in her feet. “Shit! I… I need to get to the top deck!”

Michaela reached out of the entrance to the cargo hold as Peepshow’s liquid form rushed in behind her. A face formed in the fluid, and a loud wrenching sound filled the air. Michaela looked up just as a metal support beam came crashing down, pinning her to the floor.

Warm breaths filled a brightly-lit bedroom. The lamplight glowed around a pair of 15-year-olds, arms and lips locked together. Glassaturo pulled himself away from Michaela.

“A-are you sure you want to do this, Michaela?” panted the glossy-haired boy. “I mean, we just met today…”

“Absolutely,” breathed Michaela. “I want you to be my first, Glassaturo.”

Glassaturo nodded. He lifted his hands to his collar, and pulled off his shirt. Michaela reached to the tie of her school uniform, as Glassaturo began to unclasp his belt buckle. Suddenly, Glassaturo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Michaela looked up in shock as the boy fell away from her. Glassaturo slipped backwards off the bed, and landed with a crack on his neck.

“Glassaturo!” screamed Michaela.

The 15-year-old girl leapt over the side of the bed. She lifted the taller boy back onto the sheets, carefully cradling his head and neck. Glassaturo was still breathing, but he was unresponsive.

“Glassaturo?” said Michaela, shaking his bare shoulders. “Glassaturo?!”

Glassaturo did not react. Michaela stared down at the unconscious boy, and began to hyperventilate. She jumped to the floor, and stumbled out of the bedroom.

“M-Glassaturo’s mum and dad!” shouted Michaela. “Come help! Please! Somebody, s-anybody!”

Silence rang through the halls of the apartment. Michaela looked over her shoulder towards the unconscious boy, sweat dripping from her cheeks.