The airport buzzed with activity, people heading to meet their families, intercom buzzing calls to board, planes landing just outside the floor-tall windows, where the silhouette of New York was drawn by the rising morning sun. Asa moved slowly, pulling her carry-on suitcase, feeling like a ghost, out of place. Her hand was stiff in the handle, her chest cold with fear; the only thing that's been ever present these past months.

Asa: We've made it... She thought, not to herself, no, her mind has not been just her own for a long time.

Yoru: Security has gotten sloppy, they used to have Public Security fixed on migrations since the Gun Devil stuff; poor fuckers must have voted for a socialist again. The voice of the War Devil was now a permanent companion, ever with her, in her very mind. To add bad to worse, she was a sassy one. Asa looked around with paranoia, afraid anyone could actually, somehow, hear her.

Asa: If you knew we could be caught, why didn't you...?! She internally exclaims, it reflects on her distressed face.

Yoru: Caught? I expected us to crater the airport. Why would I warn you about that? You just let me take over and fix it, Yoru explained, cold and unbothered.

Asa: No, no I don't. You promised, you said...

Yoru: What I say goes as far as you can keep me hidden. Get your ass caught, or spill the beans about me, and people start to die.

The carry bag slips out of Asa's fingers, and it takes a second to realize. She strays a few steps, sweating, looking utterly lost, before she gets her composure back. Her hands shake.

"I can't..." She whimpered, looking at her bag rolled into a column, as if it was a weight she could no longer countenance.