The factory yard had turned into a sea of fire, flames rolling like a red tide.

Shen Shanshan pulled out a respirator and strapped it on, smoke curling like ink. She asked if Yekase wanted one; Yekase shook her head like a willow in wind.

"I think I can adapt," she said, lungs sipping ash like bitter tea.

"What kind of immortal are you?" Shen asked, the joke light as a paper fan.

"An Evolver," Yekase said, calm as still water.

"Sounds like a ’70s tokusatsu show," Shen murmured, memory flickering like grainy film.

Yekase felt the same, old reels spinning like dusty constellations.

Showa-era tokusatsu loved random settings and one-use skills, popping up like fireworks and vanishing like smoke. Just like her dumb, chicken-rib gadgets, useful once or twice and then dead weight.

There were so many messy, even unusable tools that her serial numbers had climbed to around 670, like ants marching in a line.

They didn’t rush into the noisy chaos; they skirted the perimeter like foxes circling a blaze.

They traced the metal wall and found a big hole melted by heat, its rim glowing like cooled lava.

“Holy— that firepower… ugh… really don’t wanna face her,” Shen pinched the bridge of her nose, the gesture tight as a bowstring.

“Easy. If we meet her, we call ourselves heroes. If we meet guards, we call ourselves combatants,” Yekase said, masks ready like a quick-change opera.

“We can do that?!”

“Why not?” Yekase breathed, confidence steady as stone.

She pressed to the wall and poked her head around the molten rim, eyes sweeping like a hawk.

It looked like a machining bay. Two intact assembly lines ran like twin rivers. The shockwave had turned the products to wreckage, and inward-facing windows lay shattered like frost. But the belts were unscathed, like bones under skin, so the battle hadn’t reached here.

“Clear. Come in,” she said, voice low as a breeze through reeds.

She waved. Shen Shanshan slid in, and they moved downstream along the line like driftwood on current.

Usually the end of a line is the warehouse, the mouth of a river where goods pool.

Shen had shaped charges, tight as chisels. A security door was nothing, a shell to crack. Best case: loot in the chaos and bail, let PeaceWarrior and the guards grind it out like thunder on stone—

“Down!”

Shen yelled and tackled Yekase from behind, the hit swift as a swooping hawk.

Whoosh!!

A wave of fire scythed overhead, heat surging from all sides like desert wind, needling her cheeks.

“What was—”

“Incendiary, duh,” Shen snapped, blunt as a hammer.

Yekase twisted to look up. The meter-high line sheltered them like a low wall. If Shen hadn’t reacted, half her body would’ve kissed the flames.

With her current metaphysical body stats, she wondered if getting burned would evolve fire resistance, like those invincible power-fantasy pulp protagonists, swaggering like gods.

Better not flirt with cliffs like that.

If she ever talked herself into believing it, she’d fall into a pit and be done.

“Thanks…” Yekase breathed, relief washing like cool rain.

She prided herself on reaction speed, but only when she knew when danger would strike, timing like a drummer counting beats. Shen’s skill—spotting an incendiary at range and countering fast—was forged among combatants, sharp as a blade. Yekase didn’t have it.

Bringing her was a good call, luck glinting like a coin… though she hadn’t expected PeaceWarrior to crash the party like a cannon shot.

If incendiaries flew this far, the fight was close. The two, never precious about image, crawled like lizards through dust.

They scrabbled across the filthy floor for ten meters, twenty, grit grinding like sandpaper, and reached the far end.

Yekase hunched by the wall and eyed the ajar door, shadowed like a slit in stone.

Shen thought she’d peek. Instead, Yekase dipped into her transfer box and pulled a fist-sized, brick-square metal rover, compact as a beetle.

“Remember this? B-355, the Voltage Roller,” she whispered, pride humming like a wire.

“Oh! That thing you sold on the black market two months ago. You built a second one?” Shen’s eyes lit like sparks.

“Rushed it for tonight,” Yekase said, focus tight as a screw.

She slipped the rover through the door gap and worked a controller with a tiny screen, thumbs pecking like sparrows.

“…Found them. Courtyard, fifty meters to the right,” she said, voice steady as a compass. “PeaceWarrior and a squad of five or six combatants. They’re trading fire, using the planters as cover.”

She paused, breath held like a string.

“Okay. PeaceWarrior just blew the cover,” she added, flowers upending like soil geysers.

“Uh…” Shen winced, respect heavy as iron.

Figures. Exactly like the rumors: a humanoid turret who worships frontal breakthroughs, rolling like a tank.

Even from the rover’s blurry feed, Yekase counted more than three guns and throwables floating around her, steel flocking like starlings; not even counting the pair in her hands.

“Dual-wielding a shotgun and a rifle. Urban warlord vibes…” Yekase muttered, words dry as dust.

The combatants carried the trendy Omega Ray guns, model M17, muzzles flaring like fireflies. Under PeaceWarrior’s bombardment they fought and fell back, steps skidding like waves.

Too bad the feed couldn’t show Infinite Power; that tide stayed invisible, so her analysis stopped there, the horizon hazy as heat-shimmer.

Seeing PeaceWarrior dominate, Yekase felt relief that the plan still stood, ease spreading like warm tea. She also tasted the rush of a superhero movie, drums beating like thunder.

One woman pinning down a whole squad with firepower! Guns felt more real than sword dancers, and they fit her taste, clean as a straight line.

“Let them fight. The guards should hold for a bit. We’ll use this window to grab what we came for,” she said, intent sharp as a blade.

Shen Shanshan feared only hassle, her nod small as a leaf. She ghosted out of the bay, and they pushed forward to find the warehouse, steps light as cats.

Following where the line bent into the wall, they found a big iron door nearby, mute as a cliff.

Shen stepped up, pulled a black brick from the transfer box, ripped the tape, and stuck it dead center, hands precise as clockwork.

She tapped to check the stick, then tugged Yekase back five meters, distance neat as chalk marks. “With shellfire as cover, we don’t even need to worry about the boom. That jerk PeaceWarrior can accidentally do good,” she said, tone dry as sand.

No, she’s a hero. Aggressive, sure, but she objectively does more good than you, Yekase thought, conscience pricking like a thorn.

“Cover your ears,” Shen said, palms cupping like shells.

—Bang!

The heavy iron door swung open on cue, clanging like a gong.

Both flashed thumbs-up at each other, grins quick as sparks.

The not-so-loud boom was swallowed by the firefight, noise sliding like a pebble into a waterfall. No alarms flared. Looked like PeaceWarrior had wrecked the alarm system before she even came in, neat as cut wires.

Our benefactor, Yekase thought, gratitude warm as a lantern.

They slipped into the warehouse, reading the room by the one-third of lights still glowing, pale as moons.

Rows of neat-ish racks held piles of Gauntlet-like devices, metal sleeping like coiled snakes.

Yekase swept them with her Infinite Power sight, vision bright as blue flame. Each Gauntlet brimmed with Mind Energy, full as ripe fruit. This had to be their target: new evolution Gauntlets.

Strip the chips after and they’d sell for good money, coins raining like silver. They split and began sweeping the goods, motion smooth as wind.

Under their palms, Gauntlets vanished in a blink, clean as autumn wind sweeping leaves.

“As expected of Twin Towers, the provincial capital’s top dog. With this quantity, their real force must be C-grade and up,” Shen said, words clicking like beads. “If every combatant gets one, that’s at least a reinforced battalion.”

Yekase’s math wasn’t that crisp, but she understood what the count meant, numbers weighing like stones. A reinforced battalion of grunts wasn’t huge. A reinforced battalion of Mind Energy users—even if the new Gauntlets matched the old—was a force you couldn’t ignore, storm-dark as a brewing squall.

Could they afford to cross a group like that? The thought tightened like a knot.

Yekase thought a beat, mind balancing like scales. “Leave about a third. Dump them on the floor so it looks like a missile hit. I’ll give them fire,” she said, plan clean as chalk lines. “Then plant a timed charge on the wall. Blow it as we go.”

“Wow, you even know how to dress the scene? You’re so practiced you make a real merc like me look bad,” Shen laughed, voice light as tinkling glass.

Joking with her mouth, Shen’s hands stayed sharp, motion quick as knives. She toppled two racks and flung Gauntlets across the floor, metal clattering like hail.

Yekase checked from the door, judged the chaos was enough, then flicked a Flame Burst Spell. If no one saw the casting, it’s as if she never cast, her secret folded like paper. The leftovers caught and lit, fire blooming like wild brush.

Flames spread at once, raging across the warehouse, tongues dancing like wolves.

“Eat my C4!” Shen barked, grin feral as a fox.

She pulled a charge and lobbed it at the right wall like a shot put, arc clean as a crescent.

They bolted like kids after lighting firecrackers and tossing them into a pit on New Year’s, laughter swallowed by wind.

Boom!

Then came the crash of a collapse, planks rattling like rain. Stock met fresh air and reignited, crackling like dry twigs.

“Job done. Let’s go,” Yekase said, breath leaving like steam.

She pulled a Phase Shifter from her pocket and showed Shen, the device snug as a pebble. “Hold this switch and your body phases through matter,” she said, tone quick as arrows. “I’ll go through the wall first. Then I’ll toss it back over for you.”

“That badass? Make me one too?” Shen’s grin flashed like a blade.

“Ugh, argue later! If PeaceWarrior finishes the guards and hears our mess, we won’t have a good story—” Yekase snapped, worry fluttering like a startled bird.

Yekase finally noticed the firefight that had filled the plant had gone silent, hush falling like snow.

Night’s proper quiet blanketed them, soft as velvet.

Welp. We’re toast, she thought, dread rising like cold tide.

“Explain why you’re here,” a voice cut in, sharp as a blade.

They turned. First thing they saw was a ring of black muzzles, a metal halo pointing like thorns.

Handguns. Rifles. Shotguns. Shoulder-fired RPGs. Steel encircled them like a storm of spears.

Amid the bouquet of barrels, the woman folded her arms and stood, legs set like pillars, presence heavy as an anvil.

She wore no exosuit and no mechanical arms. Every weapon floated quiet around her, orbiting like dark planets.

Yekase saw her face for the first time. The silk hair from the bus was now a tight ponytail, clean as a whip. A face etched by years, carrying one word—stern—like moonlight on steel.

“We’re heroes passing through,” Yekase said, voice smooth as silk. “We heard fighting inside, so we climbed the wall to check.” She smiled, gentle as a rope thrown from a boat. “Looks like you handled it, which is perfect. Any wounds? Need a hand to exfil?”

PeaceWarrior neither confirmed nor denied. Her gaze scanned Yekase from head to toe, sweep bright as a searchlight. Then she scanned Shen Shanshan the same, cool as frost.

“What are your codenames?” she asked, tone flat as slate.

Ah. Right, Yekase thought, stomach dropping like a stone.

When heroes meet, they usually trade codenames for future ID and team-ups, names etched like seals. Yekase doubted PeaceWarrior would seek help; maybe she just wanted a note, a mark like ink.

But here came the problem.

She hadn’t planned a codename, the blank embarrassing as an empty plaque.

She’d thought through speed, stealth, resistance, all like chess pieces set. She hadn’t thought what to call themselves if they met a hero, a name floating like a lost lantern.

Maybe because robbery didn’t fit the hero mask. Maybe because she never expected to bump into PeaceWarrior. She just hadn’t thought of it, mind stalling like a jammed gear.

PeaceWarrior frowned, the crease sharp as a cut.

“My codename is the Uncertain Heisenberg,” Shen Shanshan blurted, words tumbling like marbles.

What kind of cursed codename is that?! Yekase’s brain knotted like tangled string.

What normal brain produces that? Does it fit either of them? How was she supposed to improvise something in the same tone, rhyme hard as iron?

Yekase wanted to glare, thunder in her eyes like a storm, but PeaceWarrior’s sharp gaze was already on her, waiting like a drawn bow.

“I— I’m, uh… the Incompatible Pauli,” she said, voice wobbling like a thin reed.

We’re cooked. Whatever, she thought, acceptance flat as ash.