Dr.Wagner Point of View
The scent of roasted meats and spiced pastries danced in the air as I made my way through the Market Sector. Streamers of gold and crimson lined the skylanes, and across the holographic displays, countdowns blazed in bold letters: "Nineteen Days Until Zenith!"
The whole city pulsed with anticipation. Shops handed out limited-edition commemorative items, vendors shouted discounts for "pre-game blowouts," and even the more rigid corps like the Transit Authority had loosened their grip workers were given days off for the full duration of the games. Children wore jerseys bearing the names of their favorite players, and small hover-drones zipped by trailing miniature flags.
But I couldn't relax.
Every corner of the city sparkled with joy, yet my eyes were trained on something else. Security had doubled no, tripled and only a few of us seemed to notice. The Exo-Guards patrolling the perimeters weren't in their standard chrome-shell suits. These were the old models armored titans from the war, updated, repurposed, reawakened. No one pulled those out unless the threat level climbed higher than we liked to admit.
No one questioned it, either. Not the citizens, not the vendors, not the festival coordinators. They were too swept up in the celebration.
We weren't.
I turned a corner, scanning the layered skyline when I heard two voices I'd recognize even in a thunderstorm.
"Still can't believe the front rows sold out that fast," Nyxia groaned, dragging his hand through his dark, starlit hair. He looked genuinely distressed more than I'd seen him even in field operations.
"Next time," Virdarath muttered, "I'll bribe a Sector Clockmaker to pause time until I get to the booth."
"Or," I interjected, smirking, "you could haff reserved earlier, like a responsible adult."
Nyxia shot me a look. "Don't start, Wagner. Do you know how much these tickets cost?"
I raised a brow. "Judging by ze panic in your tone too much, ja?"
"It's straight up highway robbery," he huffed. "But hey we got 'em. Three tickets. Front row. Just for us." He jabbed a thumb toward Virdarath. "And you owe me money."
Virdarath crossed his arms with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh really? What about Wagner? Doesn't he owe his share?"
Nyxia turned to me, that usual smirk softening into something... a little more serious. "I owe him a lot more than just tickets."
I leaned against the railing, looking out over the market. The festive chaos below, the sound of people laughing, children chasing each other with floating balloons it was all so... normal. But it wasn't, not for me. Not anymore.
"Wagner?" Nyxia's voice broke through my thoughts, his tone more patient than usual. "You've been quiet. Too quiet for your usual standards. What's bothering you?"
I let out a soft sigh. "It's just… with all ze security, ze older Exo-Guards out, und ze increased Rift activity, I can't help but feel zere's something we're not being told. You know it's not just ze games zat have people on edge."
Virdarath, ever the one to break the tension with his casual nature, tilted his head. "You're thinking too much again, Wagner. You know how these events go. They crank up the security to make sure everything runs smoothly." He waved a hand dismissively. "Zenith's a big deal. People love the games. It's just protocol."
I looked at him, wanting to believe that. But I couldn't ignore the feeling gnawing at the back of my mind. "I hope you are right," I muttered.
Nyxia was already shaking his head, catching my eye. "That's why you're the smart one, Wagner. Always thinking two steps ahead. But right now, all you need to do is enjoy the damn festival. You've been cooped up in the lab long enough. Let's go grab a drink before the next round of checks."
I raised an eyebrow. "Now zat, I can get behind."
Virdarath clapped me on the back, almost knocking me off balance. "See? That's the spirit! No use worrying about things we can't control. And besides, you've got a front-row seat to Zenith waiting for you. Let's make it count."
I couldn't argue with that. Even if there was something off about all this, there was no point in letting it ruin the one thing I'd always been able to enjoy moments with friends. We needed to take what little peace we could before the storm, whatever it was.
"Alright," I said, shaking off my concerns. "But if I'm going out, I'm going to my favorite bar. No more of zat recycled synthetic whiskey, und definitely no holo-cocktails. We're going real."
Nyxia grinned. "You got it. Let's make it a proper night." He led the way, Virdarath trailing behind with his usual swagger.
We wove our way through the festival, the crowd parting as we moved through the busy streets. Neon lights bathed us in their glow, and the distant rumble of hovercrafts filled the air. It was the same as always energetic, chaotic, and, for the moment, blissfully normal.
Eventually, we arrived at the bar—a small, tucked-away spot that wasn't part of the mainstream districts. Its sign, a faded hologram of a glass raised in toast, flickered weakly. Inside, it was dimly lit, with the heavy scent of aged liquor and cigar smoke clinging to the air. The sounds of murmured conversations mixed with the occasional burst of laughter. It was a place where you could hide from the world, even if just for a while.
I headed to the bar and ordered my usual, the amber-colored liquid a welcome sight. As I took a seat with my drink in hand, I allowed myself a rare moment of peace, even if just for the night.
"Here's to the games," Nyxia said, raising his glass.
"To peace, however brief it may be," Virdarath added with a smirk.
"To friends," I added, "und to pretending zat zhis world isn't falling apart for just one night."
I clinked my glass against theirs, the sharp sound echoing in the low-lit bar. For just a few moments, it felt like everything was right. But I couldn't shake the feeling that the calm before the storm wouldn't last long.
And when it did come, I wasn't sure any of us would be ready.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, I'd have a drink, enjoy the festival, and pretend just for a little while that everything would be alright.
A few drinks later well, maybe more than a few I was on the dance floor. Or rather, what passed for a dance floor in this bar: a slightly sticky section of floor between two old speakers and a flickering light strip. The music was something upbeat, old Terran jazz with a synth overlay, and for some reason, I was really feeling it.
I wasn't exactly a graceful man. Years of combat, surgery, and stress had not done my coordination any favors. But in that moment, with the world fading into a warm, amber haze, I didn't care. I spun once poorly nearly bumped into a waitress, then caught myself and threw my hands up like I meant to do it. The patrons around me laughed and clapped, some joining in, others cheering from their seats.
Somewhere in the corner, Nyxia nearly spit out his drink from laughing so hard, wiping tears from his eyes.
"He's dancing," Nyxia cackled, elbowing Virdarath. "Look at him! The grim surgeon of death, the iron-fisted doc dancing!"
Virdarath leaned back in his seat, grinning so wide it looked like his face might split. "Oh, I'm going to record this I didn't even know he had knees that bent like that."
I raised my glass toward them mid-spin, still swaying wildly to the rhythm. "Zis... zis is vhat ve fought for, boys!" I declared proudly. "Moments like zis!"
Nyxia raised his own glass. "To Dr. Wagner. The real MVP of Zenith."
"To the doc," Virdarath echoed, and both of them drank as I tripped slightly, caught myself with the poise of a sleep-deprived war medic, and kept dancing.
For the first time in a long while, there were no whispers of war in the air. No weight of strategy or casualty reports. Just music, lights, laughter and the ridiculous image of me, dancing like a fool.
And I didn't mind one bit.
Then the happy environment was violently interrupted.
A sharp crack tore through the air, and a swirling rift split open right in the middle of the bar sending glasses clattering and a wave of icy wind across the room. The music died in a squeal of static, and everyone froze. Out of the rift slithered something massive—an Eldritch being shaped like a colossal, dripping octopus. Its tentacles writhed with dark energy, and its presence reeked of cold dimensions not meant to touch this world.
I stopped dancing mid-sway, blinking blearily at it.
"Vat... in ze name of my medical license... is zat?"
The creature let out a soul-grinding screech. Everyone reached for weapons, even the drunk patrons who'd just been clapping seconds ago. The Exo-Guardians present took formation, and Nyxia was already mid-leap, blades forming in his hands.
But I I was livid.
How dare this... thing interrupt the one good night I'd had in months.
I stomped forward, slurring only slightly, pointing up at the horror with one hand while holding my half-finished drink in the other.
"NEIN! You listen to me, you oversized calamari sack of miserable cosmik mucus! " I bellowed, stumbling closer. " You interrupt mein dancing?! Mein music?! Mein emotional moment?! I vas I VAS about to hit ze spin move again, you void-for-brains Schleimbeutel!!"
The thing reared back, its tentacles flaring as the air crackled
And then I hurled one of my prototype weapons straight into its chest.
A burst of acidic energy ignited on contact, melting through its limbs like butter on a solar flare. The bar shook as three of its tentacles dropped to the floor with a sickening splat, dissolving into sludge. All that remained was its glistening, bulbous head, shuddering in pain.
I was ready to end it.
I roared, charging up with a strength that should not have belonged to a man three scotches deep. "I'M GOING TO BLEEEEP YOUR BLEEEEEEP UNTIL ZE STARS VEEP BLOOD, YOU DIMENSIONAL KRAKEN SON OF A "
Nyxia and Virdarath tackled me from either side.
"NOPE! That's enough murder threats for one night!" Nyxia shouted, practically flying to grab my shoulders.
Virdarath wrapped an arm around my chest, dragging me back toward our seats. "You're drunk, Wagner!"
"Zat ist beside ze point!" I protested, flailing as they pulled me back. "LET ME AT HIM! I VILL TURN HIM INTO VOID-FRIED SUSHI MIT A SIDE OF COSMIC HUMILIATION!!"
The crowd stared in stunned silence as the octopus-thing hissed, realized maybe this wasn't worth it after all, and slunk back into the rift melting sludge and all.
The portal fizzled closed with a pitiful pop.
There was silence. Then slow applause.
Then a full-on roar of laughter and cheering.
I sagged into my seat, grumbling as Nyxia pushed a glass of water into my hand.
"You need to cool off, doc," he said, barely containing a grin.
I took a sip and mumbled, "Zat vas mein emotional arc. Und he ruined it."