The undercity in the morning after was on a Tuesday, the city still being shrouded in a blue haze as Rad trudged down the narrow alleyways, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. The usual hum of the city was absent at this hour, and the only sounds were the distant hiss of steam pipes, the clanking of old machinery, and the occasional drip of water from rusted pipes overhead.

It was a cold morning, the air thick with dampness, and the orange light of dawn had yet to pierce the smog-laden atmosphere of the undercity. Rad’s worn shoes scraped against the cracked pavement, the soles thin from years of use. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his breath rising in small clouds in front of him as he moved forward, eyes fixed on the ground ahead. The weight of the world felt heavier this morning, an unshakable pressure that hung over him like the damp fog in the streets.

As he walked, Rad’s mind swirled with thoughts. School. His mom. His homework. The way he always seemed to be falling short, never quite able to keep up with everyone around him. And of course, Kite. He couldn’t stop thinking about him, and that made everything worse.

Rad’s gaze flicked upward as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His stomach clenched when he saw them, Kite and Ava, walking side by side. They were laughing about something, their voices carrying in the cold morning air. Ava’s sharp laughter rang out, her carefree attitude a sharp contrast to Rad’s heavy mood. Kite was grinning, looking as easygoing as always, his posture relaxed as they talked like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rad’s chest tightened, and an unbidden feeling bubbled up inside him. A twinge of jealousy. A hot, bitter wave of anger. He didn’t want to feel this way, but he couldn’t stop it. It felt like he was watching something he could never have, something that didn’t belong to him. Kite and Ava. They had something Rad didn’t. A friendship. A connection. Something real.

They were always so happy. So comfortable in each other’s company. Rad had spent too many days watching them from a distance, feeling like an outsider, an invisible presence in a world that wasn’t meant for him.

Why don’t I get that? Rad thought bitterly, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets. Why is it so easy for them?

But he knew he couldn’t let them see the storm raging inside him. He couldn’t show weakness, not to them. Not to anyone. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, and, for a moment, he considered turning back home. But no. He wasn’t going to give in to this petty jealousy.

With a shaky breath, Rad forced himself to focus, to take the next step forward, and walk past them as though they were just another part of the city. His eyes stayed on the ground in front of him, the soles of his boots slapping against the wet pavement. He walked with his head down, trying not to acknowledge them, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted as they passed by him, their laughter still ringing in his ears.

He heard Ava’s voice, teasing Kite about something, her words drifting back to him. “You sure you can keep up today? Don’t want you falling behind again, Kite.”

Kite chuckled; his voice warm. “Oh, please. Ill dust you in our rematch.'' Rad couldn’t stop the bitter taste that crept into his mouth. He tried to ignore the anger simmering just below the surface, but it was hard. Every word, every laugh, every shared moment between them felt like a reminder of how far out of reach that kind of life was for him. He wasn’t part of their world. He was just Rad, the kid who didn’t fit in, the kid who never measured up.

But he kept walking, forcing his feet to move, keeping his eyes on the door of the school building in front of him. He didn’t want to deal with this today. He didn’t want to feel this way.

When he reached the entrance of the school, he hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward Kite and Ava. They were still talking, still laughing, their voices fading as they moved further down the path. Rad clenched his jaw, the knot in his stomach tightening. Get it together, he told himself. You’re not them. You’re not even close. Just go inside and get it over with.

With a sharp inhale, he pushed open the heavy school doors, the sound of them creaking on their hinges a brief moment of separation from the world outside. The smell of stale air and old textbooks hit him, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. His shoulders slumped as he walked in, blending in with the crowd of students trickling in for the start of the day.

Kite and Ava were long gone by the time Rad made his way to his locker, his fingers brushing the cold metal of the door. He thought about the two of them, their laughter, the ease between them. And it stung, deeper than he wanted to admit.

But he wasn’t going to let it show. Not today. He wasn’t going to let himself fall apart in front of everyone. So, he shoved the feelings down, buried them deep, and focused on the tasks ahead. The day would go on, just like every other. And he would just have to get through it.

The classroom was a dull gray, with flickering fluorescent lights overhead, their hum filling the silence between the occasional sound of pencils scraping against paper. The desks were arranged in neat rows, the floor creaking underfoot as students shifted in their seats. Rad sat two rows behind Kite, as always, with the familiar dull ache of distance pressing down on him. It was a feeling that had become second nature to him, always just outside the circle, always just beyond the conversation. The back of the class was a familiar sanctuary for him, a place where he could exist without drawing attention to himself.

Ms. Lena stood at the front of the class, tapping her stylus on the large interactive screen mounted on the wall. It flickered to life, displaying a series of complicated diagrams, wires, nodes, and lines that wove into something Rad couldn’t quite decipher. She was speaking about something that seemed way over his head, something about nanotech and cybernetic interfaces, new tech that was supposed to revolutionize the undercity. The kind of thing that made his head spin, especially with the pressure of the day's weight already hanging over him. He caught snippets of her words, but it all felt like static.

"…and so, as you can see, the integration of nanomachines into the human brain allows for seamless control over external devices, just like the neural implants we’ve been studying." Ms. Lena’s voice cut through the fog in Rad’s head. She gestured to the screen, where a simulation of a human brain, lit up with bright blue lines, was shown manipulating a series of floating objects. The image shifted, showing a close-up of a glowing blue cybernetic eye with intricate circuitry tracing through the veins, and Rad's attention drifted back to the front of the room.

He glanced sideways at Kite, who was sitting at his desk with a relaxed posture, one arm resting casually on the table. Kite seemed to be absorbing everything effortlessly, his eyes tracking Ms. Lena’s words with ease. Rad had seen it too many times before, the way Kite’s mind just clicked with this stuff, the way he absorbed knowledge and made it seem so simple. His fingers tapped lightly against his desk, his face thoughtful but not overwhelmed, like this lesson was something he could apply without even thinking about it. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Kite's mouth, as if he found it all amusing, like he was already ahead of the lesson before Ms. Lena even finished it.

Rad felt that familiar pang in his chest, the sharp twist of envy that never quite went away when it came to Kite. How was it so easy for him? How did he get everything so quickly, without breaking a sweat? Rad could barely keep his eyes open, trying to grasp the concepts that Ms. Lena was laying out, the words slipping through his fingers like sand.

Rad’s gaze lingered on Kite for a moment longer, watching his pen effortlessly move across the paper, taking notes with an ease that only made Rad feel smaller. His own notebook lay untouched in front of him, the scribbles from earlier that day barely legible under the mess of half-written thoughts. It wasn’t like Rad hadn’t tried, but the ideas in his head never seemed to line up the way they did for Kite. The tech, the concepts, the language, it was all just noise to Rad, a tangled mess that made him feel lost, drowning in a sea of information he couldn't keep up with.

A soft chuckle broke Rad from his thoughts. He glanced up, catching Kite’s eye. Kite’s grin was small but genuine, like he was aware of Rad’s struggle without saying anything. Kite didn’t need to taunt him; he never did. But Rad could tell when Kite had finished writing, when he was more interested in what was happening around him than what was on the screen. He saw the way Kite’s eyes wandered to the students around them, a brief moment of distraction.

Rad felt a twinge of discomfort, unsure whether he should be grateful that Kite wasn’t trying to show off or if it made him feel worse. Kite had a natural gift; he could learn without effort. He could navigate the complicated world of tech like it was his second nature. But for Rad, it was an insurmountable wall, one he couldn’t scale no matter how hard he tried.

Ms. Lena’s voice brought Rad’s attention back to the front of the room. “Now, let’s apply this concept to something more familiar. What about the neural interfaces that are in use today?” She asked, looking around the room, waiting for someone to answer.

Rad was zoning out again when he heard Kite’s voice. “Well, like the ones they use for controlling drones in the upper districts, right? The ones with real-time data analysis?”

Rad’s heart skipped a beat, not because of the answer, but because it was so easy for Kite. His response had come without hesitation, the words smooth and confident, like he’d been born knowing exactly what Ms. Lena meant. Rad’s hands tightened on his notebook. He hated the way he felt, like he was stuck in a place where he couldn’t get out. Like he couldn’t even keep up with something as simple as class.

"Exactly, Kite," Ms. Lena replied with a nod. "And how does that tie into the advancements we’re seeing with augmented reality? Anyone?"

Rad forced himself to look down at his desk, focusing on the scribbles he had written earlier. His hand moved automatically as he started to jot down something, anything, to make it seem like he was keeping up. But the words blurred together, and he realized he wasn’t even sure what the question was anymore.

The class continued, and Rad’s mind drifted back to the image of Kite, easygoing and confident, a far cry from the turmoil Rad felt inside. The weight of the lesson, the weight of his own insecurities, it all swirled around him, and it made it so hard to focus. His fingers tapped nervously on the edge of his desk, fighting the feeling of suffocating under the pressure to be someone he wasn’t. And all the while, Kite’s voice drifted in and out of his thoughts, a constant reminder that no matter how hard Rad tried, it was never quite enough.

Ms. Lena clasped her hands together at the front of the class, her stern gaze sweeping over the room. "Alright, class," she announced, her tone brisk, "we’re starting a group project that will span the next two weeks. This will count for a significant portion of your grade, so I expect you to take it seriously."

The room immediately filled with murmurs of excitement, apprehension, and outright dread. A chimera child sitting near the front, her cat-like tail flicking lazily, raised her hand. "Can we choose our partners, Ms. Lena?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

Ms. Lena’s frown deepened, and she shook her head firmly. "No, you may not. I’ve already decided on the pairs."

The classroom erupted into groans, with some students leaning back in their chairs while others exchanged exasperated looks with their friends. Rad, sitting near the back, leaned forward with a scowl, resting his chin on his hand. Kite, meanwhile, shifted uneasily in his seat, glancing toward Ava, who shot him a confident smirk.

Ms. Lena’s eyes narrowed at the collective grumbling. "If you’d prefer," she began, her voice sharp, "I can scrap the project and give you a pop quiz right now instead." The class immediately straightened up, voices uniting in a loud, panicked, "No, ma’am!"

"That’s what I thought." Ms. Lena allowed herself a small, satisfied smile before picking up her tablet. She began reading off names, pairing students together. “Jax and Maria.” The two nodded at each other, already seated close. ''Bryce and Mona.” A loud groan came from Bryce, who slouched in his seat, while Maria rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ava and Lira.”

Ava raised an eyebrow but didn’t complain, casting a glance back at Kite. Lira, the chimera girl with feline features, gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Lira is a nine-year-old chimera girl with animalistic traits, her feline attributes blending seamlessly with her youthful innocence. Her soft black and white fur was short and sleek, accentuating the distinct patterns that made her look like a living ink painting. Her large, expressive eyes, one gold and one a pale icy blue sparkled with curiosity and innocence. A slender tail swayed behind her, its black tip twitching occasionally as if echoing her thoughts.

Her outfit was as unique as she was, perfectly tailored for her playful and agile nature. She wore a sleeveless tunic-style hoodie in a soft gray, its material loose enough to allow free movement but snug enough not to hinder her natural grace. Black and white accents ran along the edges, matching her fur, and an artistic paw-print design adorned the chest. The hood itself had small, triangular cat ears sewn into the top, adding a whimsical touch to her already feline-like features.

Below, she sported flexible black leggings, the fabric reinforced with knee patches to withstand her constant climbing and exploring. Subtle claw-mark patterns adorned the leggings, a playful nod to her natural abilities. Her feet were snugly fitted into lightweight slip-on shoes with soft, padded soles designed to accommodate her retractable claws, ensuring she could move silently or grip securely whenever she needed to climb or leap.

Around her waist, a small utility belt carried a satchel just big enough to hold her collection of little treasures, pebbles, shiny trinkets, or any oddities she found during her adventures. Draped loosely around her neck was a scarf in black and white, its fabric lightweight yet warm, fluttering slightly as she moved. It complemented her fur perfectly, making her look both cozy and ready for adventure. Lira's outfit wasn't just practical, it mirrored her personality, combining the playful creativity of a child with the sleek elegance of her chimera lineage.

Ms. Lena worked her way through the list, her tone methodical and unwavering. Finally, she looked up and called out the next pair, "Kite and Rad." Kite froze in his seat, his stomach flipping. His fingers gripped the edge of his desk as he gulped nervously, glancing over his shoulder at Rad. Rad’s immediate reaction was a scoff, a sharp, irritated sound that made Kite’s ears burn. Rad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his jaw tightening as he shot a glare at the back of Kite’s head.

Ava’s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the exchange from a distance, her expression hard to read. She adjusted her position in her seat, keeping one ear on her new partner, Lira, but her focus was undeniably on Kite and Rad. Rad muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Kite to hear. "Great. Just what I needed."

Kite winced but forced himself to move back a few seats next to Rad, offering a hesitant smile. "Hey, uh… looks like it’s us." Rad didn’t respond, his eyes flickering away, his expression set in a grimace.

Ms. Lena continued pairing students, but the air between Kite and Rad felt heavy, the tension palpable. Ava noticed Kite’s unease and frowned slightly, her sharp instincts picking up on the discomfort. She wanted to say something but knew it wasn’t the time.

As the class settled into their pairs, Ms. Lena clapped her hands for attention. "I expect you all to collaborate and bring your best effort to this project. It will require teamwork, so I advise you to set aside any differences and focus on the task at hand."

Kite and Rad exchanged another glance, the weight of Ms. Lena’s words hanging between them. Ava tightened her grip on her pen, while Lira’s tail flicked slightly against her chair. She wasn’t sure how this pairing would play out, but she knew one thing: she’d be keeping a close eye on both of them.

Ms. Lena stood at the front of the classroom, her sharp gaze scanning the sea of curious, nervous, and bored faces. The murmurs of student chatter quieted as she raised her hand, signaling for silence. Once the room was still, she cleared her throat and tapped on her tablet, causing the holo-board behind her to light up with an image of a sleek, white humanoid robotic baby cradled in glowing text that read "The Nurture Project."

"Alright, listen up," Ms. Lena began, her tone firm and businesslike. "Your group project for the next month is going to be unlike anything you’ve done before. This is about responsibility, teamwork, and problem-solving in a real-world context." She paused, letting the suspense build.

"Each pair," she continued, "will be responsible for caring for and maintaining a robotic baby." A wave of surprise rippled through the room, with some students gasping while others groaned or muttered under their breath. Kite’s eyebrows shot up, and he instinctively glanced over at Rad, who still looked unimpressed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Ms. Lena ignored the commotion and continued. "These robotic babies are highly advanced. They are programmed to simulate the needs and behaviors of an actual infant. That includes crying, feeding schedules, and even occasional mood swings. You will need to nurse them, change their synthetic diapers, and monitor their health through the paired app on your school tablets and handout watches."

At this, a chimera boy in the back snickered. "Synthetic diapers? Seriously?" Ms. Lena shot him a glare so sharp that the smirk immediately disappeared from his face. "Yes, seriously, Mr. Roe. This project is designed to teach you how to manage stress, share responsibility, and think critically under pressure, skills that are vital no matter what career path you choose. "She walked over to her desk and picked up a small, lifelike robotic baby with smooth metallic skin, soft blue eyes, and jointed limbs covered in synthetic padding. She held it up for the class to see, her tone softening slightly. "This," she said, "is your baby. Each one is unique and will have its own personality and needs. They’re built to simulate real reactions, so don’t think for a second this will be easy."

The class stared at the robot with a mix of fascination and horror. Ava leaned forward, squinting at the baby. "Does it... poop?" she asked bluntly, causing a ripple of laughter.

Ms. Lena raised an eyebrow. "No, Ava, but it will require simulated feeding and regular maintenance. And yes, it will cry if neglected or worse, malfunction if mishandled."

Kite couldn’t help but grin at Ava’s comment, but his amusement quickly faded as Ms. Lena’s expression turned serious. "Here’s the catch," Ms. Lena said, pacing slowly in front of the class. "If your baby’s health drops below 30% or if it sustains any serious damage, you and your partner will fail this project."

The classroom erupted into protests. "Fail? That’s not fair!" one student exclaimed. "What if my partner messes up?" another chimera child groaned, glancing nervously at his assigned teammate.

Ms. Lena held up her hand again, silencing them. "That’s the point of the exercise. You will need to communicate and work together. If one of you makes a mistake, it’s up to both of you to fix it. Think of it as a crash course in teamwork under high stakes."

She set the robotic baby gently back on her desk and tapped a button on her tablet. A list of partner names and baby IDs appeared on the holo-board. "Each pair will receive their baby and app credentials at the end of class, along with special watches to keep in touch. Take care of them like you would a real infant. That means feeding schedules, monitoring their energy levels, and addressing any errors or maintenance issues promptly. If you’re confused or have questions, the app has a detailed manual, and I’m available for guidance."

Rad scowled as he slouched further into his seat, muttering, "Great. Just what I need." Kite felt a wave of nervous energy, knowing how much work this project would require, and how tense things were likely to get between him and Rad. Ava, sitting a few seats over, watched the pair carefully, her sharp eyes flicking between Rad’s clenched jaw and Kite’s uneasy fidgeting. She leaned over to her partner, Lira, and whispered, "This is gonna be a train wreck."

Ms. Lena’s voice broke through the low buzz of murmurs. "One last thing, your performance on this project will be reviewed weekly. That means you don’t get to slack off. If your baby’s health is at risk at any point, you’ll be given a warning. Any questions?"

No one raised their hand, though the tension in the room was palpable. "Good," Ms. Lena said briskly. "Now, let’s get started."

Ms. Lena strode up and down the aisles, carrying the white robotic babies in protective cradles. Each pair of students waited in anticipation, or dread, as she carefully placed the lifelike androids onto their desks. The robotic babies, painted in pale white, looked startlingly real, with jointed limbs, softly glowing eyes, and subtle whirring sounds as they occasionally shifted in their cradles.

One by one, she made her way down the rows. Ava and Lira received their baby first, a standard model with violet-glowing eyes. Ava smirked as she poked its synthetic cheek. "Cute. Looks like it’s going to start quoting Shakespeare or something," she joked, earning a chuckle from Lira.

As Ms. Lena approached Kite and Rad’s desk, she paused, glancing down at the baby she held. It was distinctly different from the others. Its body was painted in onyx black pain, its glowing emerald-green eyes scanning the room with a curious flicker. Thick, curly brown hair framed its face, giving it a uniquely lifelike appearance. Ms. Lena frowned slightly, tilting her head as if puzzled by its design.

"Huh," she muttered, more to herself than to the students. "This one’s... unique." She turned her gaze to Kite and Rad. "For some odd reason, this one bears a striking resemblance to you, Kite."

Kite’s eyes widened as he leaned forward, inspecting the baby. "Whoa! It does!" he exclaimed, a broad grin spreading across his face. "That’s so cool!" Rad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation. "Creepy," he muttered under his breath, though his eyes darted to the baby with a flicker of unease.

Ms. Lena placed the baby in its cradle on their desk with utmost care. Its emerald eyes blinked slowly, turning to Kite as if recognizing him. A soft, mechanical coo escaped its lips, causing Kite to grin even wider.

"See? It likes me!" Kite declared triumphantly. Rad rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because it’s a robot. It’s programmed to like you."

Ms. Lena straightened up, brushing her hands off as she addressed them. "This model is slightly more advanced than the others. I’m not sure why it was included in this batch, but its programming is identical. The only difference is its appearance. It’ll still need the same care and attention as the rest."

She gave them both a pointed look. "You two need to work together. No squabbling, no excuses. This project is about teamwork. Got it?"

"Got it," Kite said eagerly, already leaning toward the cradle to study the baby up close. Rad muttered a half-hearted "Yeah," his arms still crossed as he glared at the baby like it had personally offended him.

Ms. Lena moved on to the next pair, leaving Kite and Rad with their new charge. Kite leaned closer to the baby, his emerald-green eyes meeting the robot’s glowing counterparts. "Man, this thing is so detailed. Look at its hair! It’s almost exactly like mine!" He reached out to gently brush a curl on the baby’s head, grinning when it cooed again.

Rad groaned, looking away. "Are you seriously geeking out over this? It’s just a machine." Kite shot him a playful smirk. "Oh, come on. You’ve gotta admit, it’s pretty cool. Look how real it is!"

Rad didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the corner of the desk. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the class to end so he could escape this uncomfortable pairing. From across the room, Ava watched the interaction closely, her sharp pink eyes narrowing as she nudged Lira. "They’ve barely started, and Rad already looks ready to bolt," she whispered.

Lira chuckled softly. "Poor guy. He’s probably just annoyed that the baby doesn’t look like him." Ava grinned but kept her focus on Kite and Rad, clearly curious, and slightly worried about how this partnership would play out.

Meanwhile, Kite was still marveling at the baby. He pressed a button on the tablet Ms. Lena had handed out, bringing up a diagnostic menu. "Okay, let’s see. It needs food every four hours, diaper changes every six hours, and some kind of... playtime interaction? Huh, that’s interesting." Rad groaned louder this time. "Great. We’re stuck babysitting a glorified doll. Can’t wait."

Kite’s grin didn’t falter. He nudged Rad with his elbow. "Oh, lighten up. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be fun." Rad shot him a glare but didn’t reply, his jaw tightening as he stared at the strange, robotic baby in its cradle.

Kite leaned over the cradle, a curious and gentle smile on his face. He studied the robotic baby's serene expression, his gaze lingering on its delicate features. The baby’s onyx black surface was pristine, its intricate details almost uncanny.

Was so lifelike that for a fleeting moment, Kite forgot it was just a machine, captivated by the softness in its face and the faint hum of its inner mechanisms. “So... you gotta name, little guy?" Kite asked in a soft voice, a glimmer of warmth lighting up his eyes he gently reached toward the cradle, as if an affectionate touch might bring it to life. Beside him, Rad rolled his eyes, slumping further back in his chair.

"Come on, Kite' he muttered under his breath, his irritation plain as he observed the robotic baby with barely concealed disdain. "It's just a glorified toaster with a diaper." But Kite didn't hear him. His focus was locked on the baby, fascinated by the craftsmanship that went into its creation, from the intricate details of its eyes to the gentle curl of its hair.

For a long, silent moment, the baby stared off into the distance, its unblinking gaze unsettling. The robotic baby remained silent, its small, polished fingers twitching subtly, almost as if calibrating its response. Its gaze seemed unfocused, staring into the distance with an unsettling intensity, a moment of eerie quiet that stretched just a bit too long. Then, the faint glow of its eyes shifted, pulsing from a muted green to an ethereal, almost haunting purple hue.

Sending out a bright, purple cosmic pulse throughout the room that only it could see. The transformation was subtle yet profound, casting faint shadows that made its rounded, metallic like face appear both wise and ancient, like an artifact unearthed from another world. Kite's breath caught. Rad shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a nervous scoff escaping him, but he, too, couldn't tear his eyes away.

The baby's stare shifted, its gaze locking onto Kite's with a quiet intensity, as if it were seeing something beyond the room, beyond the present. "I... have no name," it responded, its voice a soft monotone that sounded distant, almost hollow. Each word it spoke seemed to carry strange weight, an unnatural precision.

“My Creator, however, Ray Cooper, has designated me with the temporary mission of protecting this universe's Henry Cooper." As it spoke, its glowing eyes refocused with startling clarity, further locking onto Kite with a gaze that felt far too intelligent, too piercing, for such a small machine. Its expressionless face, although cold and synthetic, somehow conveyed an unsettling sense of purpose, as if it were seeing through Kite, not just looking at him.

Kite's smile faded, his eyes widening in a mix of shock and confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came, his mind racing to process the bizarre declaration. He felt a chill run down his spine as the Words sank in, the name Ray Cooper repeating in his mind.

The robotic baby's eyes remained fixed on him, as if watching for a reaction, assessing something in his gaze. the baby continued, its eyes unwavering, unblinking. "It would appear death and tragedy run deep in your bloodline, no matter the universe, Henry Cooper."

The baby's robotic voice carried an unnerving finality, its cold tone contrasting with the weight of the words. There was no acknowledgment of Rad's presence, indication that anyone other than Kite existed in that moment. Its attention, laser-focused and eerie, was reserved solely for him.

The words hit him like a wave, each syllable landing with an inexplicable weight. The baby's unblinking eyes held his, piercing into him with a stare that was almost human, almost knowing. Kite felt a strange sensation, as if the baby could see straight into his soul, into the very fabric of his being, beyond anything he understood. His throat went dry, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

It was as If the room had fallen silent, as if even Rad's presence beside him had faded into the background. The robotic baby made no acknowledgment of Rad, who sat there slack jawed, muttering something inaudible, frozen as he stared at the strange sight unfolding before him. Kite's mouth went dry, and he could feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his fingertips, his hand instinctively gripping the edge of the cradle. Every detail of the baby's face, its luminous purple eyes, the subtle sheen of its black casing, the way its tiny mechanical mouth had formed words meant for him alone, etched itself into Kite's mind, as if branding him with a strange and unexplainable destiny he couldn't yet fathom.

Kite’s breath hitched, confusion flickering across his face as he instinctively leaned closer to the robotic baby. The world around him felt like it had slowed, the murmurs and rustles of the classroom fading into a muffled hum. “What… what did you just say?” he asked, his voice trembling just above a whisper.

The baby's glowing purple eyes locked onto Kite's, unblinking, as if assessing him. For a long, unnerving moment, the classroom noise faded into the background, the faint hum of the robotic baby's internal mechanisms filling the silence between them.

Rad, who had been lounging in his chair moments ago with a bored and dismissive expression, now sat upright. The usual slouch in his posture disappeared as unease crept into his demeanor. His dark eyes darted between Kite and the baby; his irritation replaced with a nervous energy. “Okay… what the hell is this thing talking about?” he muttered, his voice low but edged with tension, as though speaking louder might provoke the strange machine.

The baby didn’t so much as glance in Rad’s direction. Its expression remained unchanged, mechanical and yet unsettlingly purposeful. “Your existence, Henry Cooper, is not bound by coincidence,” it intoned, its voice eerily calm but heavy with a weight Rad and Kite could feel in their chests. “Your bloodline is a thread woven across countless universes, each marked by sacrifice, loss, and the weight of responsibility.”

Kite’s heart pounded like a drum in his chest, the words hitting him with an inexplicable force. A bead of sweat formed on his temple, trickling down as he leaned away from the cradle, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. His voice cracked when he spoke, more a reflex than a conscious effort. “Henry Cooper? My name is Kite… not Henry.”

The baby tilted its head ever so slightly, the gesture almost human but entirely mechanical, as if attempting to process his words. The glow in its eyes intensified, a brief flash of vivid purple radiating across its smooth, black face, before it dimmed back to the familiar green. “Names are but constructs,” the baby replied, its tone steady, its words deliberate. “Your identity transcends the moniker given to you in this time period. My mission is clear, to protect you and ensure your fate, my fate, remains intact.”

Rad’s expression twisted into one of disbelief, his unease morphing into frustration as he tried to reassert control over the bizarre situation. “Okay, this is nuts,” he snapped, a nervous laugh escaping him despite himself. “What kind of malfunctioning junk is this? Ms. Lena said these things were programmed for basic care simulations, not… not this weird destiny nonsense.”

Yet again, the baby ignored him completely. Its gaze remained fixed on Kite, unyielding, its glowing eyes reflecting the boy’s wide, stunned expression. Its voice softened, but the gravity of its words only deepened. “In every universe, the burden falls to you. Tragedy and death shadow your path, but so too does the potential for greatness. Your future choices will ripple across the multiverse, shaping the fate of all who stand within your orbit.”

The room seemed to grow colder, and the tension in the air was palpable. Kite’s stomach churned, his mind racing to comprehend the cryptic proclamations. What does it mean? Universes? Burdens? Why me? His hands trembled as he forced himself to meet the baby’s gaze, a strange mix of fear, confusion, and something he couldn’t yet name twisting inside him. For the first time, he felt truly seen, but by something far beyond his understanding.

Rad, meanwhile, could feel a simmering anger rising within him, a defensive reaction to the eerie focus the robot had on Kite and its complete disregard for him. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to shout. Yet even he couldn’t deny the inexplicable weight in the baby’s words. The atmosphere in the classroom pressed down on both of them, even as the rest of the students chattered away, unnaturally oblivious to the strange drama unfolding between the three.

Rad, tired of being ignored, finally snapped. His voice rose sharply, cutting through the thick tension that clung to the air. “Oh yeah? If you know so much, what about me then, huh? Since you seem to know everything!” His words were laced with frustration, the heat of his temper bubbling over as he leaned forward, fists planted on his knees. His dark eyes narrowed, glaring at the robotic baby with a mix of anger and challenge, as if daring it to acknowledge him.

The robotic baby didn’t respond right away. Instead, it remained still, unnervingly so, its glowing purple eyes dimming to a low hum, as if processing the demand. A soft whirring noise emanated from within its sleek black casing, like gears turning or hidden circuits firing as it recalibrated. The pause dragged out, the weight of the silence stretching so long it almost became unbearable. Then, slowly, its head tilted toward Rad, the motion smooth yet mechanical, precise yet unnatural. The soft glow in its eyes flared back to life, intensifying as they locked onto Rad’s with a gaze that felt far too deliberate for something artificial. For a moment, Rad felt frozen beneath that stare, as though the machine was peeling him apart, layer by layer, searching for something it couldn’t find. The baby’s luminous eyes pulsed once, a faint flicker of purple washing over its cold, metallic like features, before it finally spoke.

“I am truly sorry,” it said, its voice a serene monotone that carried a strange, chilling weight. Each word was delivered with deliberate precision, yet there was an unsettling gentleness in its tone, like an apology given by something that could never fully understand human emotion anymore. The faint hum of its internal mechanisms thrummed softly, filling the silence as it continued. “I have no data of you in my databanks.”

The glowing purple in its eyes briefly faded to a dimmer hue, almost as if emphasizing the statement’s emptiness. Then, in a tone so soft it bordered on a coo, the robotic baby added, “You appear to be an anomaly that leaves no lasting impact on this universe.”

Rad’s expression faltered. For a split second, disbelief flickered across his face as if he hadn’t fully processed the words, but then something else surged forward, anger. His wide, dark eyes burned with a sudden intensity, his hands clenching into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “What?” he whispered under his breath, the single word trembling with incredulous fury.

His voice was low, barely audible, but it carried a dangerous edge. Rad’s chest rose and fell sharply, his breathing uneven as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. The robotic baby remained perfectly still, its violet gaze unwavering and indifferent, as though oblivious to the storm it had just unleashed. It didn’t flinch or falter under Rad’s glare; it simply stared back, unblinking, the faint purple glow still casting faint shadows across its smooth black casing.

The room felt even colder now, as though the very temperature had dropped in response to the interaction. Kite, still gripped by his own turmoil, glanced between Rad and the baby, his eyes wide with alarm. He could see Rad’s shoulders trembling slightly, the simmering anger threatening to boil over. The boy’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful, his teeth grinding together audibly.

“What do you mean… I leave no lasting impact?” Rad’s voice cracked, louder this time, his tone raw with a mix of rage and disbelief. There was something almost vulnerable in the way he spoke, as if the words had struck far deeper than he’d ever admit. His face contorted, frustration and pain written across his features as he stared at the machine that refused to acknowledge his existence as anything of consequence.

But the robotic baby offered no further explanation. It remained still, its glowing eyes locked onto Rad but void of expression, of recognition, of care. Its silence felt damning, as if its earlier words had been delivered with a cruel finality.

Rad stood up quickly as pushed himself up, his chair scraping against the floor with a jarring screech that shattered the oppressive quiet. “You’re wrong,” he hissed through gritted teeth, though his voice trembled slightly. His anger crackled like electricity in the air, but beneath it, there was something else, a flicker of doubt, as though part of him feared the baby’s words might hold some truth. He stood there for a moment, fists trembling at his sides, chest heaving, but the robotic baby made no move, no sound. Its faint, mechanical hum was the only acknowledgment of its continued presence.

Kite, still frozen in his seat, felt his heart pounding harder as he watched the scene unfold. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, unable to find the right words to break the tension. The baby’s purple glow seemed to pulse softly, a quiet heartbeat of light in the dim space, and for the first time, Kite thought it looked almost malicious, as if something without emotions or free will could ever be evil.

Rad turned away sharply, unable to look at the thing any longer, his face flushed with anger and humiliation. His breaths were heavy and ragged, but he said nothing more, his frustration pouring off him in waves. He stormed out of the room, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the cradle, as if it's very presence repelled him.

And still, the robotic baby laid there in the cradle, unblinking, unmoving, its eerie, glowing purple eyes following Rad for just a moment before turning back to Kite with mechanical precision, as though nothing had happened at all.

For a while, the baby’s unblinking gaze held Kite’s, as if awaiting his next move. But eventually the robotic baby’s luminous eyes dimmed slightly, their vibrant glow pulsating like a faint heartbeat. Its onyx black face twitched, an almost imperceptible mechanical stutter, as if struggling against some unseen force to form its words.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The silence in the room thickened, every faint whir and click of the machine reverberating like an echo in Kite’s ears. Then, in a voice rasping with both mechanical precision and something unsettlingly raw, the baby uttered, “Heed my warning, father…” Kite’s breath hitched. That single word, father, felt heavy, as though it carried a weight far beyond its meaning. The robotic baby’s gaze flickered momentarily, its eyes a deep and haunting shade of violet, before fading into a softer hue. Its voice, though quiet, seemed to resonate, each syllable ringing with an ominous clarity.

“Despite my… intense hatred for her kind…” it continued, the deliberate pauses between its words laden with a personal venom. “That succubus… will be your greatest ally… in the coming years.”

Kite leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest. The cryptic warning clawed at his mind, leaving him to wrestle with the implications. A succubus? An ally? He couldn’t make sense of it, but there was no mistaking the gravity in the baby’s tone. The tension in the air grew thick, a tangible unease settling over the room as if unseen eyes were watching.

“Treat her well…” the baby urged, its voice softening slightly. There was no malice now, only an urgent plea that cut through Kite’s rising apprehension. Then, the baby’s tiny lids began to droop, its head tilting slightly to one side as its systems wound down, its internal hum growing quieter.

Just as its eyes were about to close entirely, the baby’s voice broke through again, softer now but filled with a chilling undertone. “And… beware… of the devil…” Kite froze, his entire body stiffening at the words. The baby’s tone shifted into something more haunting, its coo-like cadence somehow more terrifying than its earlier declarations. “…hiding in human skin.”

The room felt colder, darker, as if the very act of speaking those words had disturbed some unseen balance. The baby’s eyelids fluttered, its glowing gaze dimming completely as it settled into an artificial slumber. The faint whirring of its mechanisms ceased, leaving a silence that felt deafening in its finality.

Kite sat back slowly, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and dread. The phrases echoed in his thoughts, cryptic and foreboding: Succubus… greatest ally… beware of the devil… hiding in human skin. A shiver ran down his spine as he sat there with wide-eyed stare.

The robotic baby’s face was serene now, its slumber unnervingly peaceful. Yet the ominous weight of its warnings lingered in the air, like the aftermath of a storm no one had seen coming.

Ava stood frozen in place; her small frame partially hidden behind the edge of a nearby table. She clutched the hem of her tattered, oversized shirt with trembling hands, the fabric twisted tightly between her fingers. Her usually mischievous demeanor was gone, replaced by wide-eyed horror. Her pink-shaded skin seemed even paler under the artificial lighting, and her irises, normally a soft, muted hue now burned with an intense, glowing pink.

The words of the robotic baby still echoed in her mind: "Despite my intense hatred for her kind, that succubus will be your greatest ally… beware of the devil, hiding in human skin." Each syllable felt like a sharp needle piercing through her carefully constructed façade, the words slicing deeper into the secret she fought so hard to protect.

She bit down on her lip, hard enough that it almost hurt, as panic surged through her. How did it know? Ava thought, her mind racing. How could it possibly know what I am? Her small, sharp teeth worried at the edge of her lip as she struggled to process the implications. It wasn’t just the words that unsettled her; it was the deliberate way the robotic baby had spoken them, as though delivering a prophecy etched in stone.

Ava’s glowing eyes darted to Kite, who still sat in stunned silence beside the cradle. She didn’t miss the way his hand trembled against the edge of the cradle, nor the faint flicker of unease that crossed Rad’s normally cocky expression. He doesn’t know… he doesn’t understand what it meant, she realized, her small chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought to control her breathing. But what if he finds out? What if they all do?

The thought terrified her. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the idea that Kite might turn on her if he learned the truth or the possibility that he wouldn’t. Would he see her as a monster? A threat? Or would he pity her, as if her very existence was something to be mourned?

Her gaze flicked toward Lira, who was gently tending to the robotic baby in the next cradle, somehow completely oblivious to the tension in the room as her pupils now glowed a soft purple hue. Ava envied her calm, the way she hummed softly under her breath as if nothing in the world could shake her. She’s so normal… Ava thought bitterly, her small fingers curling tighter against the fabric of her shirt. Not like me.

Her glowing eyes dimmed slightly, the light pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat. The baby’s warning about a devil hiding in human skin haunted her most of all. Was it talking about me? she wondered. The possibility clawed at her, threatening to unravel what little confidence she had left. Ava had spent her entire life trying to suppress the truth of what she was, hiding behind ragged clothes and dirt-streaked skin to seem ordinary, unremarkable. But if the robotic baby could see through her, what was to stop others from doing the same?

For a fleeting moment, anger flared within her, burning bright and hot. It’s not fair, she thought, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose to be… this. But the anger quickly gave way to fear, her small shoulders trembling under the weight of her emotions. If that baby’s words were true, then her secret might already be slipping through her fingers like sand.

Ava turned her gaze back to Kite, her heart aching at the sight of his confusion and fear. He doesn’t deserve this, she thought, her tiny hands balling into fists. For all her mischief and pranks, Ava had grown to care about Kite in her own way, and the thought of bringing danger into his life made her stomach twist. I’ll protect him, she vowed silently, her pink irises flaring brighter for a moment. Even if he never knows what I am, even if he’d hate me if he did, I’ll protect him.

But as the robotic baby’s final words echoed in her mind once more, a chilling realization settled over her: What if I’m not the devil it was talking about? What if there’s something worse out there? Ava’s fingers trembled as she clung to the edge of the table, her glowing eyes casting faint, flickering light across the floor.

Kite’s pulse raced, his mind scrambling to piece together the cryptic, unsettling words that had come from the robotic baby. “Tragedy and death shadow your path…” “Your bloodline is a thread woven across countless universes…” And then, the warning. The terrifying warning that felt as though it were meant specifically for him “Beware of the devil, hiding in human skin.”

The words clung to him, suffocating, gnawing at his thoughts like a swarm of insects. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, growing louder, more insistent. The room, the faint hum of the machines, even the soft murmur of Lira humming as she adjusted the robotic baby, it all faded into the background, as if it no longer mattered. His eyes locked onto the cradle, and for a brief, breathless moment, everything fell away. He needed to get out. He needed to find Rad. Now.

With a sudden, sharp motion, Kite grabbed the cradle, the smooth, cold metal of the baby’s delicate frame pressing against his hands. It felt so fragile, so lifeless, and yet the words it had spoken lingered, seeming to pulse in the air around him. His grip tightened on the cradle as he began to move, the baby’s soft cooing filling the space, but it did nothing to ease his rising panic.

“Rad,” Kite muttered to himself, his voice strained, barely more than a rasp. He moved quickly, his feet pounding against the cold tile of the classroom floor. His breath was shallow, his mind spinning as he hurried toward the exit. Find Rad. Talk to him. Figure out what is going on. The corridors of the school stretched before him, too long and too silent, as if the walls themselves were pressing in on him. His thoughts were a tangle of confusion, fear, and the gnawing sensation that something had shifted.

Kite’s heart thundered in his chest, each beat heavy with the weight of the robotic baby’s cryptic words, a chilling echo that refused to fade. His breath was shallow as he clutched the cradle tightly, almost as if the baby itself were grounding him, keeping him tethered to some semblance of reality. His fingers trembled, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop, couldn’t let go. The words “Beware of the devil, hiding in human skin” still rang in his ears, their meaning slippery, elusive, and yet unmistakably ominous. Every step he took out of the classroom felt like moving deeper into a nightmare he wasn’t sure he could escape.

His schoolmates continued their day as if nothing had changed, lost in their own worlds, unaware of the unsettling shift that had overtaken him. The muffled sound of voices, the rustling of papers, and the soft hum of fluorescent lights seemed to fade into a dull, distant noise as Kite walked down the rundown school hallway, his footsteps echoing in the vacant spaces. His mind raced, trying to piece together what the robotic baby had said, trying to make sense of it all. "My name is Kite... not Henry." He repeated it to himself, as though hearing it again might make it truer. But the baby’s words weighed him down, relentless, seeping into his thoughts like poison.

As he passed a window, the blur of the outside world caught his eye. There, sitting alone on a bench just beyond the glass, was Rad. The stark contrast of the gray, dreary playground and the figure slouched on the bench made Kite pause, his mind flickering back to their earlier interaction. Rad, whose attitude had always been abrasive, had been strangely quiet today. The strange discomfort Kite had noticed in him earlier seemed to have dissolved into something more palpable, an emptiness.

Kite blinked, his eyes narrowing as he watched Rad for a moment, the weight of the cradle making his arms ache. “What’s he doing out there?” The thought flashed through his mind, filled with a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation. The sight of Rad sitting so still, removed from the usual chaos of school life, was jarring. It was as if the world outside was moving in a different rhythm, and Rad was suspended in a moment of his own.

Kite took a deep breath, his chest tight as the remnants of panic clung to him. He had to focus, had to find some sort of grounding in all this. The words from the robotic baby had shattered something inside him, something he couldn’t yet put words to. His pulse quickened as he walked toward the nearby door that led to the playground, the dull thud of his shoes against the floor echoing in the empty hall. The cold metal of the door handle felt strange in his hand as he turned it and pushed the door open, the chill of the outside air hitting him instantly.

The playground was empty, save for Rad, who seemed lost in his thoughts, his eyes distant. Kite hesitated for a moment, standing on the threshold, the cradle still held tightly in his arms. He wasn’t sure what he expected by approaching Rad, but something about the boy, sitting there alone, pulled him forward. Maybe it was the strange disconnection that had enveloped both of them since the moment of the robotic baby’s cryptic warning. Maybe it was the need for something familiar, even if it was just Rad’s silent presence.

Kite's footsteps grew louder as he walked toward the bench, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes, each sound amplifying the thick, eerie silence that hung around him. The cradle in his arms felt like an anchor, its weight a constant reminder of the strange, unsettling presence it held. His fingers gripped the edges of the metal frame, white-knuckled, as if holding onto something far more fragile than a machine.

As he approached Rad, the playground stretched out in all its neglected, gray glory, rusted swings hanging idly, slides Coated in a layer of dust, and the broken remnants of a basketball hoop swaying in the wind. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension, as if the entire world outside had conspired to mute itself in the face of whatever had been unleashed in that classroom.

Rad sat slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, his head lowered slightly as if he were lost in some deep, private thought. His messy hair hung in front of his eyes, but Kite could see the subtle tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, his back rigid. There was something different about him now, something almost... fragile.

For once, Rad didn't look like the cocky, untouchable teenager he usually was. He looked vulnerable, isolated from the world in a way that made Kite's heartbeat faster, his own anxiety creeping back in. Kite stopped just short of the bench, hesitating for a moment. His thoughts were still tangled from the robotic baby's words, but there was something in Rad's stillness that made him want to speak, to break the silence that had settled between them like a heavy fog.

"Rad," Kite said, his voice low, almost hesitant. The word felt foreign on his tongue. It was strange, almost like he was trying to reach through a veil that had suddenly appeared between them, a veil of unspoken truths and unasked questions. Rad didn't look up. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. He wasn't looking at Kite, but Kite could feel his gaze, sharp and unreadable, from under the curtain of his hair.

"Rad.." Kite tried again, stepping closer, the cradle pressing into his chest. His throat felt dry, and his words faltered. The robotic baby's voice still echoed in his mind, like a drumbeat he couldn't escape. "Beware of the devil, hiding in human skin."

The warning reverberated in his skull, but he pushed it aside for a moment. Rad wasn't the enemy. Whatever was happening, whatever the baby had meant, Kite needed to focus on the now.

Rad's head lifted slightly, eyes still shadowed but now trained on the ground in front of him. The faintest hint of recognition flickered in his gaze, but he remained silent. Kite could feel the weight of their silence, the space between them heavy with unspoken words. "I... don't know what to do with this," Kite said, his voice strained, unsure of what he was even talking about.

His mind was a mess, the weight of the cradle only serving to heighten his growing sense of dread. He glanced down at the metal object in his arms, his fingers twitching as if willing it to somehow explain itself. "Something's not right, Rad.’’

Rad shifted slightly, though he didn't yet face Kite fully. His lips parted, but no Words came. It was as if the world itself was waiting for Rad to respond, and when he did, his voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the wind before it even reached Kite's ears. "What did it say again?" Rad's voice cracked, just slightly, the tremor unmistakable. Kite's eyes flickered to the cradle, the robotic baby resting motionless within it. "It... It said I'm not who I think am. That I'm not Kite. I'm Henry. That my bloodline is cursed. And... and that that I'm... meant for something bigger, something... darker."

His chest tightened as the words left his mouth, the sheer weight of them almost unbearable. Rad finally turned his head, his eyes narrowing, though the discomfort on his face was clear. "What the hell are you talking about?" His voice was a little too loud, too sharp, like he was trying to shake himself free of something heavy. "Sounds like it's malfunctioning. Whatever. Forget it."

But Kite could hear the unspoken fear in Rad's voice, the cracks in his tough exterior that told a different story. This wasn't just about malfunctioning tech or some broken machine. Something was happening, something that neither of them could ignore.

Something that was pulling them both into something much bigger than either of them. The air seemed to grow colder, heavier. The quiet hum of the playground felt distorted now, the rustling of withered trees in the wind echoing in Kite's ears like a warning. He stepped closer to Rad, his pulse quickening as the words the robotic baby had spoken began to crawl under his skin, gnawing at him. Kite’s voice wavered as he stepped closer. "Rad... this isn’t just a glitch. That thing... it wasn’t malfunctioning. It knew things about us. It knew me. And it said-" he choked on the words, the fear threatening to overwhelm him. "It said I’m not Kite. It said I’m Henry Cooper."

Rad remained silent, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond Kite, looking distant and detached. His fingers twitched, but he didn't move, still sitting on the bench as if anchored to the ground. Kite could feel the weight of Rad's stare, even though he wasn’t looking at him directly. It was as though Rad was trying to shut out everything, the world, the warning, even Kite himself.

Rad’s reaction was delayed, but Kite could see it, the flicker in his eyes, the quick intake of breath, the subtle change in his posture. For a brief second, Rad seemed almost human again, not the untouchable, cocky persona he always wore, but someone vulnerable, someone who might actually be scared. But then it was gone, buried beneath layers of bravado.

"Henry Cooper?" Rad repeated, as if trying the name on for size, as if tasting it in the air. "Who's that?" Kite didn't have an answer. His chest ached, a knot of confusion and fear tightening inside him. don't know" he whispered, his breath shaky. "But think... think it's me." The playground around them seemed to close in as Rad processed what Kite had just said.

The air grew even heavier, thick with the weight of what was left unsaid. Neither of them knew what to make of the cryptic warning or the strange implications that lingered in the space between them.

The playground felt almost suffocating now, the heavy air thick with tension, as if the entire world had grown still around them. Kite could feel the weight of the cradle pressing into his chest, its metal frame cold and unyielding against his skin. His fingers gripped it tighter, knuckles white, his mind spiraling in a vortex of confusion and fear.

"Henry Cooper." Rad repeated, the words foreign on his tongue. His lips curled slightly, and there was a brief flash of disbelief, before he shrugged and leaned back on the bench. "Man, you’ve lost it. Whatever that thing said… it's all just static, like some bad software glitch or something. That’s not you." His voice was too loud now, too brash, as if he was trying to cover something up, to shake off the unease that had clearly taken root in him.

Kite wasn’t convinced. The words from the baby still hung in the air like a dark omen, and something in Rad’s reaction didn’t sit right with him. The unease in Rad’s voice, the subtle tremor in his hands, told a different story. Kite stepped closer, closer than he ever had before. The air between them thickened with a sense of unspoken understanding, a sense that something was unraveling.

"I don’t know, Rad," Kite said, his voice shaking with a mix of frustration and fear. Rad didn’t reply, but his gaze shifted, distant, like he was piecing together something Kite couldn’t see. For a moment, everything was quiet. The rustle of dry leaves, the faint sound of distant traffic, the creak of the swings all faded into the background as Rad stared at the cradle in Kite’s arms.

The playground felt colder now, the eerie silence amplified by the distant creak of the rusted swings and the soft whisper of the wind through the broken basketball hoop. Kite’s grip on the cradle tightened as he stood a few feet from Rad, who remained seated on the bench, his head bowed, and his fists clenched. The robotic baby’s voice still echoed in Kite’s mind, its cryptic words wrapping around his thoughts like chains.

Rad’s silence only made the weight of those words heavier. Kite couldn’t ignore them any longer. He had to bring it up.

“Rad…” Kite started, hesitating as he searched for the right way to broach the subject. His voice trembled slightly, betraying his nerves. “Back in the classroom… when the baby spoke. It said something… about you.”

Rad’s head didn’t move, but his fists tightened, the knuckles white against the pale light filtering through the clouds. Kite noticed, but he pressed on, driven by the nagging unease that had been clawing at him since they’d left.

“It said it didn’t have any data on you,” Kite continued, his voice low and cautious. “Like… you weren’t in its system or something.”

Rad let out a short, humorless laugh, finally lifting his head to glance at Kite, though his eyes didn’t fully meet his. “Yeah? So what? That thing’s just a hunk of junk. Probably malfunctioning like I said. What does it even matter?”

“It matters, Rad,” Kite said, stepping closer, his voice growing firmer. “It said you’d leave no lasting impact. And... it even said-” Kite faltered, swallowing hard as the memory of the baby’s cooing voice replayed in his mind. “It said that you were an anomaly’’

Rad’s expression froze, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked up to meet Kite’s for the first time. There was something unreadable in his gaze, a mix of defiance and something else, something deeper, more vulnerable.

“Don’t,” Rad said sharply, his voice low but carrying an edge that cut through the tension like a knife. “Don’t start with that crap, Kite. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“How can you say that?” Kite pressed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “It knew things, Rad. About me. About whom I might be. And it said-”

“I said drop it!” Rad snapped, his voice rising as he stood abruptly, the bench creaking under the sudden shift in weight. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and he took a step toward Kite, his presence towering but shaky. “You’re letting this stupid thing get in your head. It’s a robot, Kite. Just some creepy tech made to mess with us. That’s all.”

“But what if it’s not?” Kite shot back, his voice equally loud now, his fear and confusion fueling his defiance. “What if it’s telling the truth? What if it knows something we don’t? Rad, it said you wouldn’t leave any lasting impact. What if that means-”

“Stop!” Rad roared, his voice cracking as he shoved past Kite, pacing a few steps away. He raked a hand through his messy hair, tugging at it in frustration as he turned back, his eyes wild with a mixture of anger and fear. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, alright? That thing doesn’t know me. It doesn’t know anything about me!”

Kite stood his ground, his heart pounding in his chest. “Rad, I’m just trying to-” “You’re trying to what?” Rad interrupted, his voice venomous. “Save me? Fix me? I don’t need your pity, Kite. I’m fine. I’m not some… some name in a data bank, okay? I’m here. I’m real. And I don’t need a damn robot to tell me whether I matter or not.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Kite stared at Rad, his chest heaving as he struggled to process the sudden outburst. But he could see it now, beneath the anger, beneath the bravado, Rad was scared.

“Rad…” Kite said softly, his voice barely audible. “I’m not saying it’s right. But don’t you think we should at least try to understand what it meant?”

Rad turned away, his shoulders trembling as he clenched his fists tighter. “There’s nothing to understand,” he muttered, his voice thick with barely restrained emotion. “I don’t care what it said. I don’t care.”

Kite hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He wanted to push further, to make Rad see that this wasn’t something they could ignore. But the way Rad’s voice broke, the way his shoulders slumped, stopped him.

Rad turned back slightly, his face a mask of defiance, though his eyes betrayed him. They were glassy, filled with a mixture of anger, fear, and something Kite couldn’t quite place. “Just… drop it, okay?” Rad said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Kite nodded slowly, the fight leaving him as he realized he wouldn’t get through to Rad, not now, at least. The robotic baby’s words still lingered in the back of his mind, a chilling echo that refused to fade. But for now, he let it go, stepping back as Rad turned away again, his figure silhouetted against the decaying playground.

The tension between them remained, unspoken but palpable, as the wind picked up, carrying with it the faint creak of the swings and the rustle of dry leaves. Kite glanced down at the cradle in his arms, its weight heavier than ever.

The streets of the undercity were a labyrinth of shadows and flickering neon signs, the faint hum of failing power generators filling the air. Kite walked briskly, clutching the cradle tightly to his chest, its weight feeling far heavier than it should. The robotic baby inside, its sleek onyx-black frame glinting faintly under the dim lights, rested in eerie silence.

Kite’s thoughts churned like a storm as he replayed the earlier conversation with Rad. The tension, the fear, and the cryptic words of the baby, it all gnawed at him. "Beware of the devil hiding in human skin." The phrase echoed in his mind, sending chills down his spine every time. "That succubus will be your greatest ally." What did it all mean? Why him? And why had it called him Henry Cooper?

His footsteps echoed against the damp pavement as he turned down another alley, the stench of decay and the hum of neon a constant companion. Glancing down at the baby, Kite couldn’t suppress a shiver. Its small form seemed almost serene, as if mocking his unease. He muttered under his breath, his frustration bubbling up. “My name’s Kite, dammit…”

The baby didn’t respond, its soft mechanical whirs the only sign of life. Kite’s grip tightened on the cradle, his knuckles whitening. He tried to push away the creeping unease, forcing his mind to rationalize what had happened.

“It’s probably all just a prank,” Kite thought, the words almost convincing. Maybe some twisted tech-head had programmed the baby to spout nonsense. Maybe Rad was right, and it was just a malfunctioning heap of scrap. But even as he tried to convince himself, the chills wouldn’t stop.

He glanced at the baby again, its smooth, featureless face reflecting the sickly green light of a flickering sign overhead. “Just a sick joke,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

But the words felt hollow. He couldn’t ignore the way the baby’s voice had sounded, soft, almost soothing, yet carrying an unnatural weight. He remembered the way it had looked at him, or at least seemed to, when it had called him by that strange name. Henry Cooper. The name meant nothing to him, and yet… it felt heavy, as though it belonged to someone he should know.

As he rounded another corner, Kite’s unease deepened. The streets grew quieter here, the distant hum of the city above muted by the oppressive weight of the undercity’s decayed infrastructure. He avoided eye contact with the occasional passerby, most of them looked just as broken as the city they lived in. The baby in his arms felt like a secret, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

The robotic warnings continued to echo in his head. "The devil hiding in human skin." Kite frowned, his thoughts spiraling. Who, or what, could that even mean? Was it just a metaphor? A riddle? And then there was the other phrase: "That succubus will be your greatest ally." He’d never even seen a succubus before, let alone thought about working with one. It was absurd.

But what if it’s not? The question stopped him in his tracks, and he let out a shaky breath, leaning against a crumbling wall. His reflection stared back at him from a shattered pane of glass, distorted and jagged. “You’re overthinking it,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it.

The baby shifted slightly in its cradle, its movements almost imperceptible, but enough to make Kite jump. He froze, staring at it, his heart pounding. For a moment, he half-expected it to wake up, to start speaking again in that haunting voice. But it remained still, its silence somehow more unsettling than any words it could have spoken.

Kite shook his head and pushed off the wall, forcing himself to keep moving. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could put this entire day behind him. But even as he walked, his mind refused to let go. The warnings, the strange name, the fear in Rad’s eyes, all of it felt connected, though he couldn’t see how.

“Just a sick joke,” he repeated under his breath, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of machinery. But deep down, he knew he didn’t believe that.

Kite quickened his pace, his boots splashing through shallow puddles that reflected the dull neon lights overhead. The undercity's cold, damp air clung to him like a second skin, and the faint hiss of steam escaping from a nearby vent added an ominous undertone to the atmosphere. His knuckles were pale against the dark cradle, his grip so tight it hurt. He glanced down again at the robotic baby, half-expecting its smooth, featureless face to turn toward him, its lifeless gaze suddenly coming alive with that haunting voice.

It didn’t move. It didn’t speak. But its presence felt suffocating, like it was silently watching him from somewhere beyond the physical.

Kite shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. “It’s just tech,” he muttered, his voice sharp against the quiet. “Just wires and programming. Nothing more.”

The words echoed hollowly in the empty alley, doing little to convince him. His mind raced back to the classroom, to the moment the baby had looked, or at least seemed to look, directly at him. “Henry Cooper.” The name repeated in his thoughts like a mantra, a melody he couldn’t unhear.

“Who the hell is Henry Cooper?” Kite muttered, his frustration bleeding into his voice. He didn’t know anyone by that name. He didn’t even like the sound of it, too formal, too foreign. It wasn’t him. “I’m Kite. Just Kite.”

But what if it wasn’t a mistake? What if it wasn’t random?

“Beware of the devil hiding in human skin.” Kite clenched his jaw as the phrase surfaced again, as vivid as when the baby had said it. His mind spun in circles, trying to make sense of it. Was it a warning about someone he already knew? Someone he hadn’t met yet? Or was it just a cryptic line of code meant to mess with his head?

“That succubus will be your greatest ally.” He snorted at the absurdity of it. A succubus? In the undercity? Sure, the undercity was filled with all kinds of strange and dangerous people, augmentations, rogue AIs, even rumors of genetic experiments, but a succubus? It sounded like something out of a fantasy book. And yet, he couldn’t shake the unease those words brought, a feeling that something, someone, was lurking just beyond his sight, waiting to cross paths with him.

The cradle shifted slightly in his arms as he turned a corner into another dimly lit street. This one was quieter than the last, with fewer flickering signs and more shadows. Kite’s breath fogged in the cold air as he scanned the surroundings, his unease growing. He was close to home now, but the streets felt unfamiliar, as if the warnings had made the undercity’s usual dangers more pronounced.

He glanced down at the baby again, his chest tightening as he saw its face illuminated by a faint, pale glow from the cradle’s internal systems. Its eyelids, if they could even be called that, were closed, its expression peaceful in a way that unnerved him.

“Why me?” Kite asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you call me that? Why say all those things?”

The baby didn’t respond, of course, but its silence felt deliberate, as if it was withholding something from him. He shook his head again, harder this time, trying to force the thoughts away. It’s a prank, he told himself. Someone hacked it, programmed it to say weird stuff. That’s all.

But the thought felt flimsy, even to him. The baby had known things—personal things. It had called Rad out, too, in a way that had clearly struck a nerve. And the way Rad had reacted… Kite had never seen him like that before. Rad wasn’t the type to get rattled easily, but he’d been terrified.

Kite sighed heavily as he approached a narrow, decrepit stairwell that led to his apartment block. The steel stairs groaned under his weight as he climbed, the sound echoing up the shaft. He kept his head low, avoiding the gazes of the few people loitering in the shadows. The undercity didn’t take kindly to vulnerability, and the last thing he needed was someone asking questions about the cradle in his arms.

As he reached his floor, he paused for a moment outside his door, staring at the peeling paint and rusted hinges. His fingers tightened on the cradle’s edges as the warnings replayed in his head once more.

“Beware of the devil hiding in human skin.” What if the baby wasn’t lying? What if there really was someone, or something, out there, waiting to hurt him? The thought made his skin crawl.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, locking it quickly behind him. The familiar clutter of his small apartment greeted him, spare parts, wires, and half-finished gadgets strewn across every surface. Normally, the chaos was comforting, a sign of his creativity and resourcefulness. Today, it felt oppressive.

Kite set the cradle down gently on his workbench, stepping back as if it might spring to life at any moment. The baby remained still, its faint glow casting long shadows across the room. Kite ran a hand through his hair, pacing as his thoughts raced.

“It’s just a machine,” he said again, his voice firmer this time, though it still trembled. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

But no matter how many times he said it; the unease wouldn’t leave. The warnings, the strange name, the way Rad had looked at him, all of it felt like the start of something bigger, something he couldn’t yet see.

He glanced at the baby one last time before turning away, muttering to himself as he collapsed onto his worn-out couch. “Just a sick joke,” he said again, closing his eyes. But deep down, Kite knew it wasn’t.

Kite sank deeper into the threadbare couch, its springs creaking under his weight. The faded fabric, once a dull brown, was now mottled with oil stains and patches of grime, the result of countless nights spent tinkering on projects that overflowed from his workshop. His small living room was cluttered, every surface crowded with evidence of his mechanical obsessions. Shelves made from scavenged wood and scrap metal sagged under the weight of disassembled tech, broken drones, outdated neural interfaces, and mangled circuit boards that he had collected from the undercity’s endless junk heaps.

The only light in the room came from the flickering neon sign outside his window, casting faint purple and green hues onto the walls. The sign’s glow barely reached the far corners of the space, leaving them shrouded in shadow, but Kite didn’t mind. Shadows were a constant companion in the undercity, and he found comfort in their familiarity.

A cracked holo-screen leaned against one wall; its surface caked with dust. Next to it, a small table was piled high with empty candy wrappers and mugs streaked with the remnants of thick, bitter coffee made by his mother. The air smelled faintly of solder, ozone, and old grease, the byproducts of his endless experiments.

Kite’s eyes wandered, eventually landing on the cradle sitting on the workbench across the room. The robotic baby was still and silent, its featureless face faintly illuminated by the soft, pulsating light of its internal systems. That light threw shifting patterns onto the walls, like a heartbeat reminding Kite that the thing wasn’t entirely inert.

He rubbed his temples, trying to push the day’s events out of his mind, but the strange warnings kept creeping back in. Beware of the devil hiding in human skin. That succubus will be your greatest ally. He snorted bitterly, shaking his head. “Just a load of garbage,” he muttered, though the knot of unease in his chest said otherwise.

Kite leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring blankly at the floor. The cold cracked tiles felt as unwelcoming as the rest of the room. “Henry Cooper,” he whispered, the name sounding foreign and unwelcome in his voice. He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. “It’s Kite. Always been Kite. Whoever you think I am... you’re wrong.”

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the baby’s systems. Kite stared at the cradle for what felt like an eternity, his mind oscillating between frustration and fear. Finally, he pushed himself off the couch with a groan, running a hand through his hair. “I need to get out of my own head,” he muttered to himself, his voice cutting through the oppressive quiet.

He crossed the room in quick strides, scooping up the cradle with a practiced ease. The baby’s weight felt heavier than before, though Kite suspected that was just his imagination. He didn’t bother glancing at it this time; he didn’t want to. The weight of its warnings and its eerie accuracy at school already pressed heavily enough on his thoughts.

Leaving the living room, Kite moved through a narrow hallway toward the garage. The corridor was just as cluttered as the rest of the apartment, its walls lined with hanging tools, spare cables, and long-forgotten projects. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim, uneven light that flickered with every step he took.

The garage door screeched loudly as Kite pushed it open, revealing his true sanctuary. Unlike the living room, the garage was meticulously organized, at least by Kite’s standards. Workbenches lined the walls, their surfaces covered with half-built devices and tools neatly arranged in magnetic holders. The centerpiece was his primary workstation, a large metal table equipped with a built-in holographic interface. Above it hung a modular rack crammed with everything from power drills to precision laser cutters.

The air here was different, crisper, sharper, filled with the faint tang of metal and the lingering scent of burnt circuitry. Kite exhaled, feeling a sliver of the day’s tension ease. The garage was where he made sense of the world, where he turned chaos into order with his own two hands.

He set the cradle down on the workbench, carefully sliding it to one side before pulling up a worn stool. “Time to focus,” he said softly, more to himself than to the baby. He reached for the nearest project, a stripped-down drone with its inner components exposed like the guts of a dissected animal.

Kite picked up a small screwdriver, his movements practiced and precise as he began tweaking the drone’s wiring. The rhythmic motion of his hands offered a welcome distraction, a momentary reprieve from the nagging questions that had plagued him all day.

But as the minutes ticked by, Kite found his attention drifting back to the cradle. Even as he worked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching him, its silence more unnerving than any words it might have spoken.

He glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, half-expecting to see the baby’s face turned toward him. It wasn’t, of course, but the glowing light seemed brighter now, pulsing faintly in the dim garage. Kite set his tools down, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“I don’t know what you are,” he said, his voice low and filled with frustration. “But you’re not just a machine, are you?” The baby didn’t respond. Its silence felt like an answer in itself.

Kite’s hand trembled as he set down the screwdriver. The oppressive silence of the garage was broken only by the faint hum of the robotic baby’s systems. He stared at the cradle, the weight of the day’s strange occurrences pressing down on him.

“Earlier today, at school, you mentioned someone by the name of Ray Cooper…” Kite’s voice was unsteady, his words trailing off into the thick, metallic air of the garage. The baby remained motionless, its face an expressionless void, but its cradle shifted slightly.

Kite leaned closer, his chest tightening. “Is… the person who built you my-” Before Kite could finish, the baby stirred, its glowing purple eyes snapping open and staring at the ceiling. “Ray Cooper is irrelevant,” the baby said coldly, its voice mechanical and detached, yet laden with an eerie precision that sent a chill racing down Kite’s spine.

The response startled Kite, but he pressed on, a wave of desperation pushing him forward. “He’s someone related to me, isn’t he?” Kite’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as he leaned even closer, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking.

The baby’s head tilted down, locking its gaze with Kite’s. Its glowing purple eyes bore into him with a terrifying intensity, an ancient and alien weight in its stare. The look was cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of the innocence its small frame might have implied. Kite froze, his throat dry, his thoughts racing but unable to settle.

“You pry into things that are beyond you, father,” the baby said, its voice shifting as it spoke. Two distinct tones, one deep, like the rumble of a collapsing star, and the other sharp, like the crack of breaking glass, merged into a single, dissonant entity.

“F-Father?” Kite stammered, the word slamming into him like a physical blow. His heart thundered in his chest as he shot to his feet, knocking the stool to the ground with a loud clatter. Desperation and fear surged through him as he grabbed a power drill from the workbench and pointed it shakily at the baby.

“What the hell are you?!” Kite screamed, his voice raw and echoing off the cold metal walls of the garage.

The baby didn’t flinch. It simply stared at him, unblinking, its glowing purple eyes piercing into his soul. The faint hum of its systems grew louder, a low, rhythmic thrum that seemed to pulse in time with Kite’s frantic heartbeat.

“What I am is irrelevant,” the baby said, its tone calm and unyielding. The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Kite’s grip on the drill tightened, his knuckles white. His mind reeled as he tried to process what he was hearing. The garage, his sanctuary, felt suddenly alien and claustrophobic, its shadows pressing in on him like living things.

“What are you talking about!?” Kite shouted, his voice cracking. “I don’t even know why you’re here! Stop, stop messing with me!”

The baby’s expressionless face tilted slightly, a subtle gesture that felt loaded with condescension. “The sins of the father ripple through the child,” it said cryptically. “What you are, what you will become, and what you seek to deny, these threads are woven together. You cannot sever them.” The baby’s voice booms throughout the ancient garage.

Kite’s breathing grew erratic, his chest heaving as panic clawed at his throat. “You’re lying,” he said, though the conviction in his voice was waning. “You’re just some broken machine. Some prank someone’s playing on me.”

“Do I seem broken to you, Henry?” the baby asked, the dual voices perfectly synchronized. Its tone carried an edge, the faintest hint of something dark and dangerous.

Kite took a shaky step back, the drill trembling in his hands. His eyes darted to the workshop door, the primal instinct to run clawing at the back of his mind. But he couldn’t move, not yet. Something about the baby’s gaze held him rooted in place, as if looking away might be even more dangerous.

“What do you want from me?” Kite whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

The baby didn’t answer immediately. Instead, it slowly closed its glowing eyes, the hum of its systems softening. “What I want,” it said, its voice quieter now but no less unsettling, “is irrelevant. What you choose to do with what I’ve told you… that is all that matters.”

Kite’s grip on the drill loosened slightly as he stared at the cradle, his mind spinning with questions and fears he couldn’t yet articulate. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of an abyss, the ground beneath him crumbling with every passing second.

For the first time in his life, Kite felt truly lost. The baby’s cold, mechanical gaze shifted in an instant. The glowing purple hue of its eyes flickered and faded, replaced by emerald, green, eerily human-like and filled with something that seemed both calculating and malevolent. The change was subtle yet disarming, and Kite felt his breath hitch, a chill racing down his spine.

“Farewell, for now, Henry Cooper,” the baby cooed, its voice laced with mockery and finality. Before Kite could react, the baby’s form blurred, moving so fast it seemed to dissolve into the air. One moment it was lying in the cradle, staring at him with unsettling clarity, and the next, it was gone, vanished as if it had never been there at all.

The silence that followed was deafening. The hum of the baby’s systems, the faint mechanical sounds it had made, all were gone, leaving behind only the oppressive quiet of the garage. Kite’s heart pounded in his chest, the sound of his own frantic breathing the only thing grounding him in the moment.

His eyes darted to the cradle, now empty, its contents a ghost of what had just transpired. The air felt thick, suffocating, and the shadows in the room seemed to stretch and shift, closing in on him.

Kite’s legs felt weak, and he stumbled backward, his trembling hand still clutching the drill. His knuckles were white, the rough metal handle digging into his palm. His whole body shook uncontrollably as tears welled up in his eyes, unbidden and unchecked.

“What the hell was that…” he whispered, his voice cracking as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

The emptiness of the room only heightened his fear. The absence of the baby, so sudden, so absolute, left a void that pressed against his chest like a physical weight. He felt his stomach churn, a wave of nausea rising as the realization settled over him: he had no answers, no control, no understanding of what was happening.

Tears blurred his vision as he clutched the drill tighter, the cold metal his only anchor in the chaos. His mind replayed the baby’s last words: “Farewell, for now, Henry Cooper.” The name felt like a dagger, piercing through his confusion and planting seeds of dread.

“My name’s Kite…” he muttered weakly, his voice trembling. “It’s Kite, dammit…”

But even as he said it, the words felt hollow, as if the baby’s statement had shaken the foundation of who he believed himself to be. The shadows in the room seemed to grow longer, darker, and Kite’s paranoia began to spiral. Every creak of the building, every faint sound outside the garage sent jolts of fear coursing through him. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as though the baby, wherever it had gone, was still watching him.

Kite wiped at his eyes with his free hand, trying to steady his breathing, but the fear wouldn’t let go. It gripped him like a vice, refusing to loosen its hold. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run, but there was nowhere to go.

“Why me?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What the hell is happening to me?”

The empty cradle offered no answers, its stillness only amplifying his isolation. Kite sank to his knees, the drill slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. He buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by a storm of emotions: fear, confusion, anger, and a gnawing sense of despair.

For the first time in his life, Kite felt utterly powerless. And he hated it. Kite knelt on the cold, oil-stained floor, his sobs echoing softly in the dimly lit garage. His body trembled as tears streamed down his cheeks, the overwhelming events of the day crashing over him like a tidal wave. His face was buried in his hands, his mind replaying the haunting image of the robotic baby’s emerald eyes and its cold, mocking voice.

Suddenly, the sharp metallic groan of the garage door opening cut through the oppressive silence. Kite’s sobs stilled for a moment, but he couldn’t muster the energy to look up. Footsteps echoed softly against the concrete floor, tentative at first, and then quicker, more purposeful.

Mira stood in the doorway; her figure silhouetted by the faint light spilling in from the hallway. Her brown, messy hair was tied into a haphazard bun, and her jumpsuit, smeared with grease and dust from a long day’s work, hung loosely on her petite frame. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she froze at the sight before her.

“Kite?” she called softly, her voice tinged with alarm and confusion. Her dark eyes widened as they landed on her son, crumpled on the floor, his shoulders shaking as he wept. Her heart clenched, a mix of worry and heartbreak washing over her.

She stepped closer, her face etched with deep concern, her brows knitting together. The lines of exhaustion on her face were replaced by maternal instinct as she knelt down beside him.

“Kite, honey…what’s wrong?” she asked gently, her voice trembling slightly as she placed a hand on his back.

Kite didn’t respond, his sobs intensifying as he felt her presence. Mira quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a firm, protective embrace. She held him close, her cheek resting against the top of his head. Her jumpsuit smelled faintly of oil and machine grease; a comforting scent Kite had known his whole life.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his messy hair with one hand while the other cradled his back. “It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. You’re safe.”

Kite clung to her like a lifeline, his tears soaking into her shoulder as he tried to speak, but the words came out in broken, incoherent fragments. “Th-there was a b-baby… a-and it…it spoke to me…” he stammered between sobs, his voice muffled against her jumpsuit. “It said things… things…”

Mira pulled back slightly, just enough to look at his tear-streaked face. She cupped his cheeks gently, her thumbs wiping away the tears as they fell. Her expression was soft yet resolute, her eyes searching his for answers she didn’t yet understand.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her voice calm but firm. “Whatever it was, it’s not here now. You’re safe with me.” Kite shook his head violently, fresh tears spilling as he gripped her jumpsuit with trembling hands. “No, you don’t understand, Mom! It’s not just… it’s not normal!” he cried, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

Mira didn’t press him further. Instead, she pulled him back into her arms, holding him tightly as if her embrace alone could shield him from the horrors that plagued his mind. “It’s okay to cry, Kite,” she murmured. “Whatever happened, you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Kite sobbed louder into her shoulder, releasing all the fear, confusion, and exhaustion he’d been holding in. Mira rocked him gently, her hands continuing to run soothingly through his hair. The warmth of her presence, her steady heartbeat, and her unwavering comfort began to ease the storm inside him, if only just a little.

For a moment, the garage seemed less dark, less overwhelming. In her arms, Kite felt a glimmer of safety, even as the haunting memory of the baby’s emerald eyes lingered at the edges of his mind.