It had been three years since their hero had disappeared.

Three years today, to be exact. Funny how so much can happen in so little time.

No one knew where she had gone, or why she had left. No one knew if she was alive, or back where she was born, or working for the Horde, or imprisoned as a slave. Not a single person knew.

All anyone knew was that she was gone.

She-Ra, the Princess of Power and the Hero of the Rebellion, was gone.

She had been gone for three years, and yet it seemed like an eternity.

Bow, the best archer Etheria had ever seen, and Glimmer, the kingdom-less princess of Bright Moon, sat across from each other in silence, both thinking the same thing. They knew today marked the day of She-Ra’s disappearance three years ago. It was a day that their entire group remembered, and would never forget.

Well, what was left of their entire group.

The Rebellion held their own for a while after She-Ra’s disappearance. But it didn’t take long for the Horde to realize that both She-Ra and He-Man were no where to be found, and once this realization was made, it was over for the Rebellion.

First went Bright Moon. After regaining her throne, Queen Angela rebuilt her broken kingdom into a realm of prosperity and freedom once more. She ruled alongside her daughter, Princess Glimmer, with a heart full of determination and love for the people of Etheria. But when the Horde discovered She-Ra’s disappearance, they attacked Bright Moon with full force, and there was nothing Queen Angela’s warriors, or the Rebellion, could do. The streets of Bright Moon are still stained with blood, and for all Glimmer and Bow knew, Queen Angela’s lifeless body was still on the floor of Bright Moon’s throne room.

Glimmer had lost herself that day. Her mother’s death created a hole in her heart that could never be filled, no matter how much love and support she was surrounded by. It felt like only yesterday She-Ra and He-Man had saved her mother from Helga the Harpy and reunited the two of them, and now Queen Angela was dead, and with her went Glimmer’s magic. Glimmer’s heart was empty and cold, yet it burned with a hatred for the Horde so strong that it was all that kept Glimmer going. She was no longer the leader of the Rebellion with a bright smile, a sparkle in her eyes, and hope in her heart. She was angry, she was weak, and she wanted revenge.

Then came Whispering Woods. A magic darker than the depths of the Valley of the Lost had seeped through Whispering Woods’s enchantments, poisoning the trees and killing all it touched. No one could discover what this magic was, or how it could be counteracted - all they knew was that the Horde was behind it. Within a week, Whispering Woods became nothing but a barren wasteland of dead trees and broken spirits. The Twiggets diminished with their woodland home, and Madame Razz’s magic went with them.

By then, Madame Razz had told Glimmer and Bow of She-Ra’s true identity. It was a shock at first to realize that She-Ra had been Adora, standing right in front of them every day for so long, but after this discovery, everything made perfect sense - why Adora had disappeared, why She-Ra had disappeared, why He-Man worked so hard to save Adora from Hordak’s brainwashing. But regardless of who She-Ra really was, it didn’t change the fact that both She-Ra and Adora were gone. Perhaps never to return.
With the home of the Rebellion destroyed, along with Bright Moon, it didn’t take long for the Horde to overpower the rest of Etheria. The Rebellion dismantled - those who hadn’t died in battle ran away, never to be heard of again. Casta Spella, Frosta, and other Rebellion leaders were all captured or killed, their realms destroyed or conquered.

Within months, there was nothing left. All that remained of the once Great Rebellion was Glimmer, Bow, Madame Razz, Kowl, and a broken Spirit.

Glimmer looked up from her plate of cold rice, her darkened eyes meeting Bow’s for the first time that day. “I can’t do this anymore, Bow,” she said softly.

Bow sat in silence, searching Glimmer’s eyes for any sign of hope. He found none.

“Glimmer, I know how hard this is for you. Believe me, I do, but -“

“Spare me your talks of hope and confidence, Bow. It’s been three years. How long can you possibly lie to yourself about this? She’s not coming back. She’s gone, and so’s the Rebellion,” Glimmer hissed.

Bow felt the eyes of other diners flit to them, and he gave Glimmer a pleading stare. “Please, Glimmer. Not here,” he begged.

Glimmer scoffed. “Of course not here. Not anywhere. We don’t belong anymore. I’m tired of running and hiding. What’s the point? We’re only running from what’s inevitable.”

Bow sighed and ran his fingers through his bright orange hair. He looked around the room, noticing that more and more diners were starting to whisper and point in their direction. “Glimmer, we really need to leave, before someone alerts the Horde,” he said quietly.

Glimmer said nothing - only stared him down.

Her stare was broken by the sound of the doors opening and the sudden silencing of the other diners. Bow didn’t have to look to know who had entered. Glimmer’s look of anger suddenly turned to one of panic, but neither of them moved.

The entire room was frozen and silent. The two Hordesmen who had entered the room were looking around for a place to sit, and finally chose a table across the room from Bow and Glimmer. “What’s the problem here?” one of the Hordesmen asked. “Where’s the music?”

Hastily, the bard playing the flute in the center of the room continued his song, but it was obvious he was flustered. The notes were shorter and out-of-tune, but the Hordesmen didn’t notice.

“Bow, we need to leave,” Glimmer whispered. Bow shook his head.

“If we leave now, they’ll notice us and get suspicious. We’re wanted fugitives, remember?” he whispered back.

Glimmer put her head down and pretended to be fascinated by her food, but Bow could see the tremble in her hands.

“Waiter!”

The loud call of one of the Hordesmen broke the intense silence of the room, causing everyone to jump slightly in their seats. A thin, frail old man, probably in his fifties, rushed to the Hordesmen’s table to take their orders. “How can I be of service today?” the waiter asked, his knees shaking uncontrollably.

“Your selection is disgraceful. We demand a new menu,” one said.

The waiter paused, unsure of how to address the situation. “S-sir, we only have one menu, I’m afraid,” he said.

The two Hordesmen stood up, cornering the waiter. The hair on Bow’s arms began to stand up and his fists clenched. He knew what was about to happen.

Glimmer noticed Bow’s tension, and she took his hand. “Bow. Don’t,” she hissed.

Bow watched with darkened eyes as a Hordesman grabbed the waiter by the neck and lifted him into the air. The waiter struggled, kicking his feet and trying in vain to loosen the Hordesman’s grip.

“Only one menu, huh? Well, maybe we can add a new dish,” the Hordesman cackled.

The waiter’s eyes widened in fear as he realized that this was it for him. He was going to die.

“Put him down, Hordesmen.”

The entire room collectively gasped as Bow stood from his table and removed his cloak. Despite the toil of the last three years, Bow had maintained his impressive physique. His muscles bulged against his skin, and his posture proved he was a man who knew how to fight.

The Hordesman dropped the waiter, who crumpled to the floor, and turned towards Bow. The other Hordesman rose, joining his comrade. “A rebel, hm? It’s a shame you haven’t learned by now that the Horde can’t be beaten. Surrender now, rebel. Or face certain destruction.”

Bow smirked. “Try me,” he taunted.

The two Hordesmen drew their weapons and shot beams of red lasers at Bow. Swiftly, as if he had done this hundreds of times before, Bow dove out of the way as the laser beams burned holes in the wooden wall behind him. As Bow recovered from his dive, he withdrew his bow and nocked a plain arrow, managing to shoot it off before the Hordesmen could strike again. The arrow went straight through the hand of one of the Hordesmen, knocking his weapon to the floor.

Run.

Run, Claire.

Run!

Rose pink hair flashed like a blur as the girl ran further and further from her captors. She knew she was close to being caught, and she knew that no matter how much her legs burned, or how much her side split, she had to keep running as fast as she could.

She was Lightning.

She was a refugee, a criminal, an outcast who needed to be kept away from society. At least, that was the label society had pinned to her forehead. But in truth, she was lost, alone, and pissed.

She was so pissed.

Pissed at the government for locking her up, pissed at her parents for leaving her, pissed at the world for being so unfair.

Her anger drove her on, and Lightning knew she was getting further and further from the soldiers chasing her. Glancing behind her, Lightning saw nothing as she turned the corner.

Before she knew what happened, Lightning had run right into a wall - or rather, a person - her momentum sending her sprawling backwards to the cold, hard, cobblestone street. Heart still pounding, Lightning’s head flipped up so she could glare at whoever wasn’t watching where they were going.

The bright blue eyes that met hers seemed to be full of energy and light. The man in front of her was huge, to put it lightly, and built for physical prowess. His hair was snowy white, long enough to fall over his eyes, and his smile blindingly joyful. His long trench coat suggested he was immensely conceited. Instantly, Lightning felt annoyance grow in the pit of her stomach. This was just some jerk who didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.

“Hey, sorry about that, you okay?” the man asked, holding a gloved hand out for her to take. Lightning scoffed and stood, brushing off her knees.

“Watch where you’re going, Trench,” she snapped, peering around the corner.

The man smirked, his perfect teeth contrasting with the dark alley. “Who you running from?” he asked, looking around the corner.

“That’s none of your business.”

“So you are running. Well hey, I’m running too. Why not run together? I could go for a nice companion.”

Lightning’s jaw dropped, but she quickly shut it and shook her head. “No thanks. Try asking someone who can tolerate a pompous ass like yourself.” Before waiting for a response, she started running away from the man, ignoring how her muscles screamed for her to stop. She wasn’t sure how far ahead she was, but she wasn’t about to waste any more time standing around. She had to get as far away from the city as possible until she came up with a plan.

“You know…this…is nice,” Lightning heard a panting voice say beside her. Her head snapped to the side and she skidded to a stop, her face fuming with anger. The same man from earlier had followed her, looking smug after getting a reaction from her.

“Leave me the hell alone. I don’t have time to deal with you,” Lightning warned, eyes darkening. The man held both hands up in surrender, still smirking.

“Hey, no need to be like that. I was just -“

He was interrupted by a bright light shining on them both from the sky above. Blocking her eyes, Lightning looked up to find a PSICOM helicopter shining its light on them.

She had been caught.

“Dammit!” she hissed. Before she had time to think of a plan, at least ten PSICOM soldiers had surrounded the two of them in the street.

“Snow Villiers, Lightning Farron, place both hands on your heads and get down on your knees. You are under arrest by order of the Primarch,” one of the soldiers said.

Lightning did as she was told, slowly lowering herself to her knees. The man, who she assumed was named Snow, followed suit. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning closer to her. She ignored him, her anger boiling higher and higher with each passing second. “Hey!” he hissed again.

“Shut. Up,” Lightning growled.

“Hey, keep your mouths shut!” one of the soldiers yelled. They were all stepping tentatively closer, afraid of their prisoners. Lightning could read them all like a book. They were scared men hiding behind some government-approved armor.

They had no idea who they were dealing with.

“Get down,” Lightning whispered.

“What?”

“Get down.”

Before the soldiers had any idea what had happened, Lightning had pushed her toes against the ground and propelled her body upward into the air. She had approximately three seconds to land and fight before the soldiers gathered their bearings.

One.

She flipped, curling her knees into her body as her body fell towards the ground.

Two.

She landed, feet first, solidly on the cobblestone street.

Three.

Lightning’s feet kicked out and swiped, taking out the legs of the closest soldier. He fell, his gun slipping out of his hands, there for Lightning to take.

She quickly grabbed it and began to shoot, taking out the next two soldiers closest to her. The bullets of the remaining seven soldiers began to fly, and Lightning knew she needed to move. She ducked and rolled, backflipping twice to avoid the fast-flying ammunition. While in the air, she shot her gun, taking out another soldier.

Six down. She could do this.

Out of nowhere, another spray of bullets began falling from the sky. Before Lightning could react, she felt a searing pain in her arm. She cried out in agony, resisting the urge to clutch the bleeding bullet hole as she shot at another soldier and missed. Bullets were still flying everywhere, and it was a miracle she hadn’t been ripped apart yet.

“Lightning!”

She turned, following the voice to find Snow punching a soldier square in the face. The soldier crumpled, out cold. “Get the chopper!” he shouted, kicking another soldier in the chest and punching him shortly after. He turned to her, holding out his hand. “Come on!”

Shoving the nerves that were screaming for her to fall down and cry aside, Lightning sprinted towards Snow and took his outstretched hand. In one strong flourish, Snow’s thick muscles swung Lightning around and threw her into the air. She propelled straight for the helicopter, shooting repeatedly at where she knew the engine would be. She missed, she missed, she missed again. She was losing momentum, and it was only a matter of time until she would fall back to the ground.

‘Save me, Claire.’

Lightning cried out and shot one last time as her body began to fall. Just as she knew it would, the helicopter exploded in a blast of fire and shattered metal.

Now she had a new problem. She was falling, and falling fast.

If they hadn’t taken her manadrive, she would be able to get herself out of this, no problem. But nothing was slowing gravity’s pull, and she was going to die.

Something gray was flying towards her, and Lightning narrowed her eyes. A piece of the helicopter? No, it was too flimsy. A piece of clothing? No, it was too bi-

Yes, it was a piece of clothing. Lightning reached out her hand, snagging the large coat before it could fly past her. Seeing the ground growing closer and closer, Lightning quickly maneuvered her hands to grab the large coat’s sleeves and held it above her. The giant trench coat filled with air, turning into a small, makeshift parachute. It slowed Lightning’s momentum just enough that her ankles wouldn’t shatter when she finally came back to the ground.

Finally, Lightning’s feet and the street met once more, and she was back on solid ground. But she was still alert, searching for any more PSICOM soldiers. To her surprise, all of her previous foes were on the ground - dead or out cold, she wasn’t sure.

“Hey.”

She spun, ready to fight, but loosened her stance when she realized it was just Snow. “Glad to see you alive,” he said, giving her that odd smile he gave her earlier. “If you don’t mind, I’d like that back.” He glanced at his coat that was being held in Lightning’s arms, giving her a look that said, ‘You’re welcome for saving your life.’

Lightning nodded and gave him his coat, brushing her hands off on her shorts. She looked at a nearby soldier laying lifeless on the ground and tossed her empty gun onto his chest.

“He could have had a family,” Snow said, his voice filled with a strange sadness.

Lightning scoffed. “They dispatched low-rank soldiers to deal with two criminals. Their mistake, not ours. This guy is a casualty caused by the government. Couldn’t shoot, got himself shot instead. That’s just how it goes.”

Snow was silent, still looking down at the motionless man.

“Well, it’s been great, but I’ve gotta get out of here. Good luck out there,” Lightning said, starting to walk away.

“Hey, wait-“

Snow’s protest was interrupted by a loud cry of pain, caused by his hand on Lightning’s wounded arm. She let out a string of words that Snow had never even heard of, and he quickly pulled back. His hand was covered in blood, and that was when he noticed the wound on Lightning’s arm. “You’re hurt,” he said.

“Yeah, no kidding. Thanks for the reminder,” Lightning snapped. Snow crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not leaving you alone until we take care of that,” he said. Lightning simply scoffed and continued walking away.

She could hear his heavy, obnoxious footsteps following behind her. Her annoyance grew with every loud clunk his boots made. “Don’t make me punch you, Trench. I’m not above that,” she warned.

“Doesn’t look to me like you’re in shape for punching anyone right about now.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly.”

Lightning spun, her electric blue eyes meeting Snow’s icy ones. They stood there for several moments, staring each other down until the other budged. Finally, Lightning sighed and turned away. “Fine. Make it quick.”

Snow smirked triumphantly and led Lightning into a nearby empty alley. He wasted no time in tearing a long strip of cloth from the blue sash around his waist and wrapping it snugly around Lightning’s bleeding wound. As soon as it was tied, Lightning removed herself from the awkward silence and started walking away for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Fed up with his games, Lightning spun around and threw a punch right at Snow’s pretty face. Her fist connected solidly with his jaw, and she was surprised to not hear the familiar cracking of bone beneath her knuckles. This guy was built for physical superiority.

“OW!” Snow shouted, grabbing his sore jaw. “What the hell was that for?!”

Lightning crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I warned you. Stop following me.”

“I said I’m not leaving until we take care of that. Wrapping up a bloody wound doesn’t take care of it,” Snow said matter-of-factly. Lightning resisted the urge to groan, realizing that she was stuck with this guy whether she liked it or not.

She didn’t utter another word as she started walking away, this time expecting the clunk of heavy boots on the cobblestone street.

Two days had passed since the two unlikely companions joined together, and every time Snow opened his mouth, Lightning wanted to punch him. Most of their journey had consisted of him making an irritating comment, and her snapping at him to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to survive.

Of course, he knew Lightning meant business, and she wasn’t one to mess with, but that didn’t stop him. It was just too easy to get beneath her skin, and it was a nice method of passing the time.

She was an impressive woman, he thought to himself as he walked behind her. Snow had met many women in his life, but none displayed the physical prowess and superiority that Lightning did. She walked with her shoulders back, her spine straight, and her head level. She was confident in her abilities, and she had every reason to be. Her skills with that gunblade were remarkable for a woman—Snow wasn’t really sure he could maneuver a weapon as well as Lightning did. She was quick, both in mind and in body, but she was also calculating. She knew her enemy’s every strength, every weakness, every possible move. She had her battle strategy mapped out before her foe could draw their weapon. But out of all of the things that made Lightning so intriguing, her eyes took the prize. Her bright blue irises were always cold, stubborn, and unforgiving, yet electrified by passion and motivation.

He was dying to know what she hid behind her cold exterior.

“So,” Snow said, breaking the silence hanging between them, “Where exactly are we going?”

Lightning twirled her dagger between her fingers as she walked. “The Hanging Edge,” she replied curtly. “Off-limits to civilians, and pretty security-heavy.”

“And…why exactly are we walking into a danger zone?”

There was silence for a few seconds as Lightning struggled to come up with a response. She wasn’t about to tell Snow everything, but she couldn’t just tell him nothing. Then again, her life and her reasons were none of his business.

“If you don’t like where we’re going, you’re free to leave whenever you want,” she snapped. Snow rolled his eyes—this wasn’t the first time Lightning had told him to leave.

“Listen, I’m staying whether you like it or not. Until that bullet wound is healed, I would feel guilty leaving you all by yourself. After all, you would have been toast the other day without me,” Snow retorted.

He was right, Lightning thought. In fact, she would have been toast several times throughout the last two days without his help. But just because he decided to stick around didn’t mean he was entitled to Lightning’s business.

“I can’t really be of much help if I have no idea what the game plan is,” Snow added.

Lightning sighed in response. “There’s…something I need to get. Something important, and…it’s inside the Pulse Vestige. Last I heard, PSICOM’s taking the Vestige back to Pulse. But if I get there soon enough, I can catch them before the Vestige is sent back.”

Snow was speechless for a few minutes. Why did Lightning need to retrieve something from the Vestige? That was where the Pulse Fal’cie had been found; according to the news reports, it had recently created a L’cie, causing an uproar throughout Cocoon. So why would Lightning want to go after something that was so dangerous, and had caused so much trouble?

Then it dawned on him.

To Lightning’s shock, Snow grabbed her wrist and yanked her to a stop. Her free hand clenched into a fist, and she was about to punch him when their eyes met. He was visibly concerned, maybe even a little frightened.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she yelled, trying to yank her arm free from his grip. Snow held on tight, his eyes burning into her own.

“Are you a L’cie?” he asked.

Crunch.

Lightning’s fist connected squarely with Snow’s jaw, and he went reeling backwards. She tore her arm from his grip and held the blade of her dagger against the bigger man’s throat. He froze, looking up at her in shock.

“Don’t you ever say that word again, understand?” she hissed. Snow nodded his head warily, worried of the scar Lightning’s blade would make if he moved too much. Satisfied, Lightning withdrew her blade from his throat. “I’m not one of them,” she growled.

Avoiding Snow’s gaze, Lightning turned from him and walked away. Her hand throbbed from her punch—she should have known better than to punch a giant rock. But it felt good; kind of cathartic.

The rest of their journey to the Hanging Edge passed by in relative silence. Snow believed what Lightning had said, but if she wasn’t a L’cie, why would she be wanting to go to the Vestige so badly? He couldn’t think of any possible reason.

---

The only way into the Hanging Edge was by train, to Lightning and Snow’s dismay. They managed to conceal themselves with cloaks from a traveling saleswoman, but a cloak could only do so much to hide Snow’s massive body. If they weren’t caught on the train ride to the Edge, Lightning would truly lose faith in the PSICOM’s skills.

“Don’t sit by me,” Lightning grumbled as she boarded the train in front of Snow. He rolled his eyes, but followed her command, sitting on an opposite end of the train. He was far enough so that he couldn’t hear her speak, but he could see her in the case of trouble.

Lightning sat beside a man with an afro - quite the unusual hairstyle on Cocoon. She avoided his questioning gaze and stared at her knees in silence.

There were three PSICOM on board, eighteen civilians, and one roof exit. Lightning would have to use the roof exit to escape the train and enter the Hanging Edge before the train passed through it. She hadn’t told Snow of her plan, but if he really wanted to join her on this journey, he would have to stay on his toes.

“You uh…going somewhere special?”

The voice of the afro-man startled Lightning out of her thoughts. She refused to look at him, keeping her attention focused on her knees. “That’s none of your business,” she replied, her voice solid and cold.

The man scoffed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “If that’s how you want this ride to go, fine. Kids these days need to learn some manners,” he said.

Lightning rolled her eyes. If only he knew how much of a kid she was. She was more of an adult than he would ever be.

‘Chirp! Weee!’

Lightning’s head snapped up, eyes searching for the source of the sound. The man beside her chuckled as a yellow Chocobo chick floated out of his afro and into his outstretched palm. Her jaw dropped slightly, wondering why on Cocoon this man was carrying around a Chocobo.

“She’s my son’s,” the man said, answering her thoughts. “Doesn’t have a name yet, but hopefully she will soon. That’s where I’m headed, actually—to get my son.” Lightning was silent, her eyes following the dancing movements of the Chocobo. “The name’s Sazh Katzroy. What’s your name, kid?”

Was she doomed to be irritated by every human being on this planet?

“Lightning,” she responded.

“And you’re a Sanctum soldier?”

She stiffened. How had he known that? Her blood ran cold and the hairs on her arms stood on end—was he a spy for PSICOM?

“How?” she growled, meeting Sazh’s eyes for the first time. One of her hands reached for the dagger concealed beneath her cloak.

Sazh laughed, causing the Chocobo to leap and twirl in the air before landing back in his palm. “I’m an old man,” he said, “I’ve seen enough to know a soldier when I see one.”

Lightning relaxed, but just slightly. “Guardian Corps,” she said bitterly. “But yes, I was a sergeant.” Sazh nodded, but refrained from asking anymore questions. He was wise enough to know a touchy subject, and he wasn’t about to push a former-sergeant to her limit.

Several minutes passed in silence before Sazh sat up stiffly in his seat, his attention drawn to the window. “The Hanging Edge,” he said quietly. Lightning looked up, following Sazh’s gaze to the darkened world beyond. Sure enough, there it was—the Hanging Edge, in all of its broken splendor.

Once an urban center full of light and life, the Hanging Edge had been decimated by the War of Transgression. Its former glory had been lost in the past, and now it was nothing short of ragged and uninhabitable. All was dark in the Hanging Edge, with only the lights of aerorail trussways to illuminate the region. All former skyscrapers were broken by the war’s battles, and were now forming abstract shapes in the sky. She had been to the Hanging Edge once before, as a training mission for the Guardian Corps. For all she knew, there was nothing left in the Hanging Edge but bridges and railways.

But the Hanging Edge, in all of its darkness and destruction, was no where near as unsettling as the emptiness that lie beneath it. The vast, expansive space below the railways extended forever—if you fell, there was no return. Lightning had seen a soldier fall over the railways once, and his screams of terror echoed for what felt like hours as he fell to his death. For all anyone knew, his body was still falling.

“Legend has it,” Sazh said, breaking the silence, “the Edge is where L’cie choose to end their lives. They jump off of the railways, choosing the emptiness below over the fate of becoming Cie’th.”

She ignored him, choosing to instead focus on making her exit. Of the three PSICOM on the train, only one was in their car. He was patrolling up and down the walkway, gun holstered. It was a miracle neither she or Snow had been discovered yet, but it was likely that this PSICOM was just a trainee. His superiors probably stuck him here because there was no where else for him to go.

The soldier turned, walking back in Lightning’s direction. She kept her gaze down, remembering the overhead exit’s proximity. Sazh noticed her sudden change in demeanor. “What exactly are you thinking of doing?” he whispered, keeping his head low.

“It’s been fun, but I have a mission, just like you. I’d appreciate it if you kept my name to yourself in the future,” Lightning replied. Sazh’s eyes widened—was this girl seriously going to try and leave the train? He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Lightning: “Good luck with your son.”

Before Sazh could even blink, Lightning’s right foot had swept outwards, taking out the legs of the PSICOM soldier. He let out a cry of surprise as he fell to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. Lightning threw off her cloak and chopped the PSICOM’s neck, rendering him unconscious. By now, everyone in the train car was screaming, and the remaining two PSICOM would be headed in her direction. Wasting no time, Lightning rolled down the walkway and pushed off of the ground as hard as she could, rocketing her body upwards to the ceiling. Her arms outstretched, and the momentum of her jump sent the door of the overhead exit flying off of its hinges, allowing Lightning to soar through. The cold air of the Edge took her breath away as she ascended into the air and fell down onto the railway, the train heading further and further away.

Her landing was smooth and flawless—she had made it.

Thump.

Lightning resisted the urge to groan. She knew who was the source of that noise.

“Holy hell, Light. You really know how to keep a man on his toes, don’tcha?”

Lightning scoffed, swiping her rose-pink hair out of her eyes. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be able to fit through the exit,” she said. Snow shrugged and complacently placed his arms behind his head.

“I couldn’t, actually. That’s why I used the back exit instead.” The smug tone in Snow’s voice made Lightning’s face flush with heat. She should have thought of that.

“We need to move,” she said coldly. “It’s only a matter of time until PSICOM flood the area.” She began to walk away, her eyes scanning the skyline for signs of the Pulse Vestige.

“Hey, uh…Light?”

Lightning’s muscles tensed with irritation. “Don’t call me that. What is it now?” She realized Snow wasn’t following her, so she turned to find him pointing to the a shadow approaching in the distant sky.

“Looks like PSICOM are already here.”