The energy had been building inside of her for quite some time; a restless, almost obsessive tinge to it. Her nights had been long and helped little to relax… she had turned and tossed on her bed, groaning and resisting basic instincts, unsure if she was aroused or just in need of several laps around the training area. It was a confusing, slow-growing—needy—kind of energy infusion that, as the days passed, had made her twitchy, hyper-aware of those she considered attractive, and—by necessity—a cold-shower junkie.

It hadn't affected her work initially, however. Killing aliens or winning during training were particularly rewarding, and whenever blood flew, she was just happy. But now… she had caught herself staring at blood with a hunger that bothered her. She'd finish a boxing match in the Avenger and want to lick the face of her opponent clean of the blood on it. She'd licked her own wounds on her way back to the infirmary or to the showers, actually enjoying the taste, and finding it difficult to keep herself from cutting her arm just so she could suck on it.

Jane splashed water on her face and shook her head, looking at the mirror with a pained expression. The hub and din of the kitchen outside the restroom continued as usual. Above, the faint echoes of steps could be heard as the guests ambled about, no doubt indulging in drinks and talking callously about—and congratulating each other on—the fate (and eventual end) of humanity, which they had helped bring about.

She closed her eyes as her heart lurched, infusing her body with warm, glorious ecstasy. She felt her skin crawl with goosebumps, and she arched her back, fighting a moan. There was something very wrong here, but it felt so good. She knew this was not natural, that she shouldn't feel good, that she should be worried, but even knowing that wasn't enough. She gasped, and she could see her breath although the room itself wasn't that cold. Her body was so sensitive, that every shift of her shirt was painfully pleasurable.

Something was happening, she looked up, aware that she was grinning, but she didn't want to. She had no reason to. The eyes staring back at her were changing. The whites darkened as if water was mixing with black ink, and her brown irises seemed to flash with an internal red light.

She didn't understand. She didn't want to smile, or lick her lips. She couldn't explain why her skin darkened a deep, blood-like red, nor why she felt so goddamned sexy as her clothes seemed to melt and flowing energy surrounded her naked body. She couldn't fathom why she was so calm despite everything happening, despite how her hands caressed her own body, or why she so hungrily turned to the door… or how the hell she just ripped it out of its hinges. Right in front of her, another cook stood, waiting for their own turn. They only had a second to stare at her and scream before she lurched forward, feeling things emerge from her back, lashing out and smashing the lights.

Suddenly it felt like she was floating on darkness, even though she was still in her body, there was a sense of displacement, as if she was free-falling and yet not. Trapped in a net underwater, unable to fight or escape, feeling like her breath was being slowly pushed out of her although she wasn't really drowning.

But she could still see. She saw the body of the cook being ripped open, all the glorious blood splashing around her as her body bent down to feed—

And then there was real darkness. She could sense her body moving. Something crawling and caressing her body as she moved, and although she would normally be disgusted, her body reacted and her mind felt… distanced. Almost as if it was happening to someone else. She could hear screams, the crunching of bones, and smell the fear. She could almost taste the bone-marrow mixed in with the blood.

She was aware that that's what it was, at least, although she couldn't taste it. She could feel her body relish the brittleness of necks snapping, of running people through with the… things… that had emerged from her back, but her mind didn't acknowledge it. It really felt as if it were happening to someone else.

And then, the darkness had shifted. a pale-blue light had broken through it, like moonlight through the clouds, and a being of pure white-blue neon light had formed in front of her awareness. It was vaguely equine, with wings that parted the darkness with each flutter, and a long, spiraling horn emerging from the middle of its head.

Moonlight danced around them as blue eyes stared straight at her soul. "You are free."

Jane shook awake to the familiar sound of the Skyranger's engines as they hummed harder in preparation for landing. Had she been dreaming? But when had she fallen asleep? Her eyes widened. 'The mission!' It wasn't until she instinctively tried to sit up that she realized her current situation.

She was lying on her back, her body secured in place by straps. She was wearing her chef's outfit still, and around her, she could see Central, their VIP (tied up and secured), Elena and…

Laetitia was different. Her body was the same, but a faint, moonlight glow surrounded her, an ethereal horn—almost fog-like in consistency—emerging from her forehead. Neon moonlight hints of wings glistened occasionally from behind her back, as if two massive wings were folded, like an angel.

Slowly, a dawning horror set in her mind. 'It wasn't a dream.'

"Jane?"

She looked up to Central, eyes wide. 'I'm not going to cry, dammit!'

She opened her mouth to say something, but only rasped something out. It was like that time she had been almost killed and only Sunset's crazy magic and Sunset's predecessor's freaky powers to predict the future had saved her.

It was that memory that made her realize something, and she quickly twisted, trying her best to look at the door to the cockpit, expecting to see her best friend.

The door was empty.

There were no other bedridden people in the Skyranger. It was just Central, Elena, Valkyrie-Laetitia and their VIP, with Rainbow Dash in the cockpit. Sunset was gone. They were landing without her. She croaked something that vaguely sounded like her friend's name, eyes searching.

Central closed his eyes, his face suddenly looking old.

A coldness slowly made its way through her veins, and she looked at Elena and Valkyrie-Laetitia. Their eyes were sad.

'Shit. Shit. I'm not going to cry.' She gulped, feeling her eyes water a little. 'She's not dead. She can't be. Something else happened… she shook her head, and ground her teeth. She swallowed, feeling her throat moisten a little. Perhaps enough for…

"W-where is…" she licked her lips. Her voice sounded like she had been eating sandpaper. "Sunset?"

The others flinched, except for Valkyrie-Laetitia, whose own eyes threatened tears.

"Even after everything that happened," the woman said—and Jane knew immediately that wasn't her Haitian teammate, although there still was a some familiarity—"Your first thoughts are of your friend. Truly, it gives me hope that Sunset is not lost to us yet."

Jane sighed, her body wary as she relaxed. Sunset was not dead after all… a small part of her could almost feel her, far away.

She was tired, and for the first time in over a week, she didn't feel like jumping up and down. Maybe, after they gave their report to the commander—and she herself found out what had really happened—maybe she could sleep for a little while.