Streets of Ravetham

Kaelen’s nanite flickered to life, its mechanical presence injecting itself into his thoughts as it projected his stat sheet before him in an array of gleaming holograms.

The nanite's monotonous voice filled his head with its cold, logical suggestions for improvement:

Increase Influence by forming new alliances.

Enhance Mana reserves by feeding on supernatural beings.

Focus on Aura to strengthen leadership.

Kaelen sighed in frustration. He waved away the projection, irritated by its constant evaluations. I don’t need this right now, he thought, dismissing it with a sharp swipe of his hand. But even as the holographic display vanished, he found himself secretly cataloging the stats. He couldn’t deny that the data fascinated him, pulling his attention despite the irritation it caused.

Yet, the numbers didn’t stay in his mind for long. His thoughts drifted back to the video—him and Loren. The way things had escalated, how out of control it had all felt. The images lingered, gnawing at him. He needed to clear his head.

Lock & Loaded, he decided. The gun shop he owned—managed by Surge and Elara—was the perfect place to blow off some steam. He could escape into the rhythm of firing rounds in the hidden shooting range below the shop, a space he reserved for moments like this.

As he pushed through the doors of the shop, the faint smell of gun oil and metal greeted him. The place was quiet, with only Surge behind the counter, casually leaning against it as she toyed with a handgun. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

“Kaelen,” she called out, smirking as she leaned in closer. “I watched your video. Gotta say, I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. If you ever want to make one with me, I wouldn’t mind.”

Her tone was teasing, but there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment in her expression. Surge, as always, was unapologetically bold.

Kaelen’s face flushed with unexpected heat. Surge’s blunt offer caught him completely off guard, and for a moment, he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he managed, “Surge, please... I just need to blow off some steam in the shooting room.”

But the thought lingered in the back of his mind. He couldn’t deny there was something intriguing in her casual proposition, though he tried to suppress it. His emotions were a jumble—confusion, frustration, and something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to.

As if on cue, the nanite’s emotionless voice chimed in.

Host: Objective confirmed.

A surge of anger flared inside him, boiling over. His breath hitched as he suddenly felt his vision blur. Wetness slid down his cheeks, and before he could process what was happening, Surge’s eyes went wide with shock.

“Kaelen!” she gasped. “Your eyes are bleeding! Don’t move—I’m calling an ambulance.”

Her voice was filled with genuine alarm, but Kaelen quickly wiped his face, staring at the streaks of blood now staining his hands. He had never experienced anything like this before. Panic threatened to rise in his chest, but he fought it down.

“No,” he said firmly, stopping her from reaching for the phone. “It’s... it’s just stress. Please, don’t call anyone. I just need to use the room.”

Surge hesitated, her brow furrowed in concern. She handed him a tissue, watching him closely as if unsure whether to believe him. Finally, she nodded, leading him through the shop and into the back, where the entrance to the Firing Vault was hidden behind a heavy metal door.

Before she opened it, something unexpected happened. Surge suddenly grabbed Kaelen by the collar, yanking him toward her as she pressed him against the cold wall. Her lips were on his before he could react—intense, urgent, a momentary flash of something raw and wild.

Kaelen’s mind went black.

When he came to, Kaelen found himself standing in the Firing Vault, a gun clutched tightly in his hand. His breath came in slow, steady bursts, his senses disoriented. Across the room, Surge was leaning against the doorframe, her breathing shallow, fanning herself as if trying to cool down from whatever had just transpired.

His body felt tense, his mind scrambled. He couldn’t remember what had just happened between the two of them, but the strange look in Surge’s eyes as she exited the room filled him with an unsettling mix of confusion and suspicion.

He glanced down at the gun in his hand, then back at the door, his mind racing to fill in the gaps. His random blackout and Surge’s peculiar behavior gnawed at him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his frustration bubbling over. He raised the gun, firing off a few rounds into the target in front of him, desperate to drown out the chaos that had taken root inside his head. Each shot was a futile attempt to focus, but his thoughts kept circling back to the strange blackout—and the ever-looming presence of the nanite.

Kaelen gritted his teeth, pulling the trigger again. "There has to be a way to get rid of you," he growled, the words more to himself than to the nanite.

As if sensing his distress, the nanite’s voice rang out again, cold and clinical.

Host: Improbability detected.