The evening stretched on.
21:40 — Moscow Base
"When does it open?"
"Around ten (22.00 )," they'd said.
She groaned and rolled face-first into her pillow. "I want to go... so bad."
Of course, the moment she returned to the dorms, she'd floated the idea to Roxxy, hoping for backup. No luck. Aside from Toshi — who apparently had some history with these places — everyone else turned her down flat.
So now here she was, standing hesitantly outside a certain someone's door.
"This is dumb... This is so dumb," she muttered to herself. She turned to leave.
But just then, the door slid open.
"Something you need?" Mickey asked, standing in a casual white long-sleeved shirt.
Sera froze, caught red-handed in the middle of her indecision. "I, uh..."
Mickey tilted his head. "You found the club outside, didn't you? Looking for company?"
She blinked. "How did you—"
"Your outfit kind of screams it."
She gave an exaggerated twirl. "I mean, it is cute, right? C'mon, come with me. Just be my wingman!"
He eyed her, unimpressed. "Why me?"
"Because you're the only one I don't have to feel awkward dragging into this. Also, cake. Remember the cake? You still owe me."
He sighed, then relented.
.
The music pulsed through the walls as they entered the club, lights dancing in every direction. Sera was wide-eyed with wonder, trying to take in everything at once.
Mickey, calm as ever, led her to a quieter spot near the bar.
"You not gonna hit the dance floor?" he asked.
"Eventually," she said, surveying the area like a general analyzing a battlefield.
They ordered drinks — Mickey sticking to water, Sera picking something pink and sparkly out of curiosity.
"You sure about that?" Mickey asked as she raised her glass.
She lifted her chin defiantly. "I've handled worse."
One drink turned into two.
Then three.
Sera didn't just dance — she owned the floor. Her energy was infectious, drawing a small crowd of amused agents who clapped and joined in. She was radiant, laughing, free, vibrant.
Mickey remained off to the side, watching with an unreadable expression. He lifted his phone, recorded a few seconds, then set it down.
Eventually, Sera stumbled back toward him, cheeks flushed, sweat clinging to her skin.
"You caught all that, huh?" she asked, breathless.
He also can smell the Alcohol coming from her breathe.
"You were hard to miss."
She collapsed into the seat beside him, still buzzing.
"Hey... mannnn ...nixxxxx... thanks for coming... with meeee..."
.
A long moment passed. The music still thumped, but it seemed far away now.
Sera looked over at him, she's even sobber ten times 20 minutes ago.
"You ever get the feeling like... like maybe someone sees through you a little too well?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Never minddddd," she said, waving it off. "Forget I said anythingggg."
She stood abruptly, wobbling. Mickey caught her elbow.
"You okay?"
"I fuckinggg ... hateeeeee ... how damn cuteee you ARE.. manixxxxx "
" Sera you're far gone now."
"I'm beingggg SERIOUSSSS dickhead!"
She grinned and held out her hand. "Walk me back pleaseeeeeeee"
He nodded, helping her up.
.
"Nooo! Nooo I don't wanna! I'm fiiine… fiiine... still hiccup..."
Down the hallway—yes, all the way down the hallway—Mickey dragged Sera out of the club. Every agent or passerby who walked past them gave the pair a long, perplexed look. They looked... out of place.
Of course they did.
Because no Thrak agent in their right mind would ever let themselves get this trashed. Their training was practically encoded into their DNA. Getting drunk like this? Unthinkable.
But Sera? She'd downed three shots of 88-proof vodka, danced like a lightning bolt, and spent the night dragging Mickey across the dancefloor with all the clingy recklessness of a spoiled heiress on a mission. Now, she couldn't walk. Or, rather—she could take two steps max before collapsing to the ground, sprawling on her stomach, rolling side to side while mumbling "Mannix... Mannix..." like a second grader who missed her field trip.
Mickey held her up and guided her into the elevator, heading straight toward the residential level.
The time was past 1 a.m. Everyone else in the team was definitely asleep by now. Thankfully, no one would be outside to see this mess.
As they arrived at her room, Sera pressed herself into Mickey, burying her face in his neck, giggling between kisses. She planted one on his neck, then moved toward his ear.
Every few steps: smack. A kiss. Slurp. Another one.
She was breathing all over his skin, leaving a trail of saliva that had already soaked into his shirt collar. His ear felt completely drenched.
"Why're you so cold, huh? smooch..."
"Sera... I'm not made of stone. I'm a person. If you don't stop..."
He turned and looked her in the eyes.
This time, his gaze was different—sharper, harder, intense in a way Sera had never seen from him before.
He wasn't bluffing.
He was warning her.
And if she didn't stop, he was going to respond—not as a friend, not as a teammate, but as someone no longer bound by patience or restraint.
"..."
Sera paused, finally, her lips pulling back. But her arms remained wrapped around him.
She looked up into his eyes, squinting like she was trying to gauge just how serious he was.
"...."
Then she grabbed his face—and kissed his cheek. Loudly. Obnoxiously. A full-on smooch that left a black lipstick mark on his skin.
"Okay. That's enough."
They reached her room.
The door to Sera's room slid open with a soft whoosh.
"Mm—!?"
Sera stumbled in, pushed forward by Mickey. Without another word, he turned to leave.
Crash!
She fell face-first onto the floor with a heavy thud.
That had to hurt.
Maybe it would knock her out cold — honestly, that might be better.
Let her sleep off the alcohol. Let her wake up tomorrow and see everything he'd recorded — the photos, the audio, the videos.
Just thinking about it made Mickey smirk. What face would she make when she saw how wild she'd actually been? How desperately she'd clung to him, wanting something more?
He wasn't oblivious. He'd noticed the way she bit her lip at him sometimes. Sera was young, passionate, no different from the others — Sid, Jody, even Toshi.
She'd had boyfriends. She'd had partners. This kind of thing wasn't new to her.
But to Mickey, physical intimacy had long lost its charm. It wasn't something sacred, or even exciting. For him, it was like eating — just another part of life. Nothing more.
And frankly, he was tired. Tomorrow might be a rest day, but with the Grandmasters arriving soon, there were things to prepare.
"..."
He turned to leave — but paused.
Had she hit her nose on the way down? Was she okay?
She could heal herself, sure... but she'd been so drunk…
...Did he hear something snap? Or was that just in his head?
What if she'd passed out from the impact?
He ran a hand down his face — she'd grabbed his collar hard earlier. Her scent still lingered on him.
He sighed. If something had happened to her and he just walked away…
That thought twisted in his gut.
Whoosh!
He turned back and re-entered her room.
To his surprise, Sera wasn't unconscious at all — in fact, she was writhing dramatically on the floor.
"Aaahhh!! Mannix!! Mannix, come back! Come baaaack!!"
"...You're not dying after all."
"Mannix— Oh."
She froze as soon as she saw him.
The drunken kitten had morphed into a raging lioness.
"MANNIX!!! You bastard—!"
She scrambled to her feet, her clothes wrinkled and disheveled, and threw herself onto him. He noticed her nose was bleeding slightly. No mystery where that came from.
"You're bleeding," he said calmly.
"Eh, whatever~"
She reached up and pinched his cheek.
"You can't just ignore it. You might choke on your own blood."
Mickey helped her over to the sofa and sat her down gently. He grabbed some tissues from the table nearby and carefully wiped her nose.
Pleh.
She spat — and somehow managed to land it right on his cheek.
"Wow," he said flatly. "I'm not going to say anything, but just so you know, I've been recording this whole time."
He pointed to his phone, still set on the corner of the table, camera on and running.
"You'll see everything when you sober up. Then we'll see who's actually the crazy one here."
He wiped her saliva off his face.
He didn't take any of it personally. Drunk people never made sense. Compared to what he'd experienced growing up on the streets, this was tame.
Still, something he said must've struck a nerve.
Sera's nose turned pink... and soon her cheeks flushed too. Then... tears welled in her eyes.
"Sera?"
Suddenly, it all came flooding out — like a dam breaking.
The vodka had shut off whatever filters she had. She started yelling. Then sobbing. It was like a tantrum.
"I tried everything! Why can't I ever beat you?! Waaahhh!!! You always win! Every! Single! Time!"
"What—?"
"You're a demon! I hate you!! Everyone else has weaknesses! But you—YOU DON'T!!!"
"...Okay, what is happening right now?"
Twenty full minutes passed like that. It was now 1:20 a.m.
Mickey sat next to her, gently dabbing her face with a damp cloth while she rambled nonstop.
"Why can't I ever get the upper hand on you... not even once... ugh, I give up."
Her energy changed. She was no longer angry — just... defeated.
"You always act like you're above everything... like you're untouchable... Toshi, he's just a guy. Sid's a jerk, but his weakness is obvious—Jody. But you... Mannix... you have nothing I can use against you. Nothing at all. I hate it... I hate being dominated like this..."
And suddenly, she was in his arms — pressing herself against him, knocking him back onto the sofa. Her body lay atop his, her breathing shaky, her emotions raw.
"...But I hated seeing you get hurt more."
Her voice trembled.
"Why did you do that? Why'd you put yourself in danger for me? Why get yourself shot? You idiot... I hate you... but I can't. I can't hate you."
The cold air from the vent, the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her skin—
Mickey recalled what Toshi once told him:
"It's not always what she says. It's how she says it."
Sera was muttering things that barely made sense, words tumbling over each other, her body inching closer... Her lips brushed against his—
"...Why do I like you, you psycho...?"
And then, without another word, she kissed him — deeply, forcefully, her hands locking behind his head to keep him from pulling away.
"...Hah... hah..."
She broke the kiss, panting.
Mickey reached up — and pulled her back into another one.
Their eyes met, full of heat and confusion and something deeper they hadn't dared name until now.
"...Hey."
"..."
"...Want to take a shower together?"
Sera's voice was quiet.
Mickey didn't answer right away. But the look in his eyes said everything.