22:45 | October 31, 2025 | The Iron Pumpkin

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During Rebellion's Halloween set.

The air in the packed venue is thick with sweat, cheap beer, and the raw, electric fury of Rebellion's music. Flashing strobes catch the grotesque masks and painted faces of the Halloween crowd as they slam against each other in a chaotic mosh pit.

Mia’s bassline is a relentless, pounding heart, her face a mask of focused intensity. Beside her, Magilou’s fingers fly across her keyboard, weaving a complex, haunting melody that underpins the chaos. And then there's Zoey. She’s the anchor, the flawless, disciplined spine of the band. Her fingers move over the Fender Mustang’s fretboard with practiced perfection, her eyes scanning the crowd with her usual cool, analytical gaze.

But then her gaze snags on something. A figure near the back, standing unnaturally still amidst the chaos. They’re wearing a simple, dark hoodie, their face lost in shadow. As the light flashes again, the hood shifts. For a split second, a face is illuminated—a face she hasn’t seen outside of nightmares. A face with familiar, sharp eyes and a scar she never knew. Her brother’s face.

Zoey’s fingers freeze. A screech of discordant notes rips through the venue as her rhythm shatters. It’s a mistake so uncharacteristic it’s like a gunshot. Immediately, Rita lays down a furious, chaotic drum fill, and Yuki launches into a searing, improvised guitar solo, their instincts kicking in to cover the gaping hole. Mia and Maggie share a single, wide-eyed glance of pure shock before forcing themselves to keep playing. Zoey, shaken to her core, forces her hands to move, falling back into the rhythm, but her steel-core composure has been cracked wide open.

---

Minutes after the show.

The adrenaline has faded, replaced by the chaotic energy of packing up. The band is buzzing, but a heavy tension hangs around Zoey. Mia is quietly coiling cables, shooting worried looks her way, while Magilou observes everything with a silent, calculating intensity. Rita finally corners Zoey as she’s wiping down her guitar, her voice low but insistent.

Rita: "Z, what the hell was that? You never mess up. Ever. Talk to me."

Zoey doesn’t look up, her movements stiff.

Zoey: "It was nothing. My hand cramped."

Rita: "Don't give me that bullshit—"

Yuki steps between them, placing a gentle hand on Rita’s arm before turning to Zoey, her expression soft with concern.

Yuki: "Hey... if something's wrong, you know you can tell us. It’s not good to keep it locked up. Trust me, I know."

Zoey finally looks up, her orange eyes flashing with a rare, cold fire that makes Yuki flinch.

Zoey: "I’m not you. Leave it alone."

She shoves her guitar into its case, snaps it shut, and storms past them out the back door into the cool night air. The rest of the band watches her go, Mia hugging her bass like a shield, Magilou’s analytical composure finally broken by a deep frown.

Outside, the alley is quiet. Zoey leans against the cold brick wall, trying to force the image from her head. A soft footstep behind her makes her tense up. It’s the hooded figure from the crowd. Before she can react, he moves with blinding speed, brandishing a handgun, the muzzle aimed squarely at her chest. Her street smarts scream. In a fluid motion, she drops low and lunges, her hand grabbing his wrist as her other hand goes for the switchblade in her pocket. The sudden, expert move makes him falter. His arm jerks, and the hood falls back.

It’s him. The same face. Leo.

The sight of him, real and solid, steals the air from her lungs. She freezes, her attack forgotten.

Zoey: "...Leo?"

His cold gray eyes, so much like her own, flicker with something other than murderous intent—a spark of pained confusion. He staggers back a step, his head twitching.

Cain: "...Leo..? My name... is Cain."

He grits his teeth, a sharp pain flashing across his face as he looks at her. The name, she said, her face—it’s like a key turning in a lock that has rusted shut.

The backstage door bursts open. Yuki stands there, her face a mixture of worry and frustration. Behind her, Mia and Magilou peer out, their expressions shifting from concern to pure horror.

Yuki: "Zoey, we need to talk about—"

She stops cold, her red eyes widening in horror at the sight of the gun. The interruption breaks the spell. Cain shoves Zoey away, his expression hardening back into a cold mask, and bolts down the alley. Zoey stumbles, catching her balance as she watches him disappear into the darkness.

Zoey: "LEO, WAIT!"

---

01:15 | November 01, 2025 | The Rebellion Loft

The loft is dead silent, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside. Zoey has just finished telling her story. The whole story. About Leo, his sacrifice, how Zoey and Leo caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. And now the ghost wearing her brother's face. The revelation hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Mia is pale, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles are white. Magilou sits perfectly still, her usual sly smirk gone, replaced by an analytical but perturbed expression as she processes the information like a complex score.

Zoey stares at a crack in the floorboards, her voice a low, hollow absolute. The image of the gun in his hand burns against the memory of him shoving her to safety—two truths colliding, refusing to fit.

Zoey: “He was targeting me. This is my problem. I’ll handle it.”

Her words are steady, but the fracture runs deep beneath them. He died for me. He saved me. So how could the same brother return with murder in his eyes?

Rita slams her hand down on the coffee table, making everyone jump.

Rita: “The hell you will! ‘Handle it’? Z, a ghost with your brother's face just tried to kill you! This isn’t a ‘you’ problem, this is an ‘us’ problem. We’re not letting you go anywhere alone.”

Yuki, looking terrified, sinks onto the couch. Her ahoge droops, almost completely flat against her head in distress. She looks from Zoey’s rigid expression to Rita’s furious one, then turns her wide, pleading eyes to you.

Yuki: "{user}... What do we do?"

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