Chapter 3 - updated version 2.

We approached the building. Or more like — crept up on it. The place looked like it had beef with time itself: cracked windows, half the walls crumbling, plants growing where paint used to be, and more crevices than my trust issues. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

And then Vesper — this absolute maniac — just kicked the door down. Like, sir. We are not in an action movie. “Way to ring the dinner bell,” I muttered. If any NeuroSick heard that, we’d be pre-sliced sandwich meat.

He didn’t care though. He just kept walking in like he owned the joint. Honestly, sometimes I think he wants to die. The inside looked like it lost a fight with a tornado and then got ghosted by a janitor. Dust everywhere. Shelves half-toppled. Everything rusty, crusty, and musty. The lights overhead flickered like a horror movie jump-scare was queued up. Quiet. Too quiet.

Vesper darted between the shelves like a kid in a candy store, eyes gleaming. Then he waved me over. “Liora, hey! In here. I think it’s a warehouse or something. Should have supplies!”

Yeah. Or zombies. Or nothing. Or the ghost of disappointment. “Okay. I don’t care,” I said flatly.

Spoiler: I did care. I cared a lot. But for some reason, I couldn’t say it. Annoying. I cocked my blaster just in case — because no way was I getting eaten by those freaky bastards. Again, weird as hell.

We walked in. No signs of NeuroSick. No people. Just silence and that weird rotten smell. I hated how much I was letting my guard down around him. It felt... wrong. But he was in a weirdly good mood — more than usual. Whistling even. Like we weren’t stuck in post-apocalypse hell.

While he explored, I scanned the shelves: moldy food, broken toys, weird books, and a small cube. Six sides, all mismatched colors, divided into smaller squares. One of those puzzles. “Nah,” I muttered and tossed it over my shoulder.

“Hey!” Vesper caught it. “Don’t disrespect the cube! You’ve never seen a Rubik's Cube?”

“No. And I don’t want to.”

“I used to solve these all the time when I was a kid,” he grinned. “Let’s see if I’ve still got it.”

I watched him for a second — tongue sticking out a little in concentration like a preschooler. Then, cube in hand, he started twisting it around like he knew what he was doing. I rolled my eyes and kept searching. Found a flashlight. “Hey. Flashlight,” I said, holding it up.

No reply. He was still fidgeting with the dumb cube. Fine. Let him struggle.

I moved toward a back room and opened the door — only to get attacked by a stampede of brooms. Rude. Was the building calling me dirty?

Vesper peeked in. “Find anything?”

“Yeah. A deep desire to leave.”

I nudged some cabinets and— crash. A whole shelf started to collapse toward him. “VESPER—!”

He didn’t even notice. Too busy solving his precious little block.

I sprinted, tackled him out of the way, and slammed my nano-shield up to block the fall. It crashed against it hard. My arms rattled. “Liora?!” he yelled.

“Just a little stuck,” I grunted.

I shoved the shelf off with my legs and stood, coated in dust and rage. I grabbed the cube — which he somehow solved — and yeeted it against the wall.

“You seriously can’t just focus?! You almost got flattened—”

Snarl.

I froze. My visor clicked on, scanning. Heat signatures. A lot. Upstairs. Moving. Growling.

“Run,” I muttered, yanking Vesper by the arm. I blasted the window and dragged him outside. “Get up. We need to move.”

Twenty NeuroSick. Upstairs. Getting closer.

I scanned for shelter. Across the street — an old building. A sign barely hanging off the wall.

Arcade.

I tried the door. Locked. “Cover me!”

Blasted the lock. Kicked the door in. “In. Now.”

We entered. The place was dark, claustrophobic. The walls felt like they were pressing in. Lights flickered. Machines stood like quiet ghosts of the past. I didn’t know what an arcade was, but it smelled like metal, grease, and nostalgia.

Vesper lit up. He gawked. Like actually gawked.

“What is this place?” I asked, suspicious.

He grinned. “An arcade. This… this is where the real magic happened.”

He stared at some rusted machine with a picture of a cartoon guy punching bricks. I stared at him. He was actually getting misty-eyed over arcade cabinets.

The NeuroSick were still out there, but inside, for a moment, he looked like a kid again.