The Apocalypse World resolved around me like it always did, in a quiet pop of pressure and a shift in the air that felt like stepping out of a sealed room into wind.
I was in our usual spot just outside the perimeter of the safehouse, the one Zero had picked because the sightlines were good and the cover was decent.
The sky was that flat slate color it always was after sundown in Velham. Somewhere in the middle distance, a piece of broken architecture creaked.
She wasn't inside, as the lights were off. So, I followed the soft sound of impact toward the back of the building.
Finally, I saw her.
She was in the small clearing behind the safehouse, in her training pants and a sleeveless undershirt, hair tied up in a quick high knot, drilling a movement I had never seen her drill before.
It was a slow, controlled push from a low stance, both palms out, like she was pressing on something that wasn't there. I watched her do it three times.
