— “A Cycle”

The Squawk is too quiet.

Jane is leaning against the window of the side room, watching the dim lights of Hawkins in the distance. The world seems suspended, as if holding its breath.

Kali Prasad sits alone, near the wall, her knees bent against her chest. Her shaved hair is still growing back, uneven. Thin marks on her arms betray weeks—perhaps months—of constant blood draws.

She closes her eyes.

For a moment, the smell returns.

Metal. Blood. Ozone.

Dr. Kay's voice echoes in her memory, cold and precise:

“Again. Her blood isn’t stabilizing the fetus. Increase the dosage.”

Kali opens her eyes forcefully.

She is free now.

But the lab still lives inside her.

There are no cameras there. No microphones connected.

Just her.

For a few seconds, no one speaks.

The door to the main room opens.

Jane enters first.

Kali always prefers to call her that. Jane. Not a number. Not a weapon.

Kali: — “Nothing changed, Jane.” —

Jane frowns, without turning her face.

Jane: — “What do you mean?” —

Kali approaches slowly, her steps almost silent.

Kali: — “Brenner is dead. The lab is gone. Hawkins is broken.” —(pause) “And still… it’s the same.” —

Jane finally turns around.

Jane: — “We’re fighting back. We’re not kids anymore.” —

Kali smiles slightly—it’s not irony, it’s sadness.

Kali: — “That’s what they want us to believe. — As long as we exist… the cycle exists.” —

She points slightly to her own chest. Then, to Jane.

Kali: — “You. Me. Henry.” —

Jane feels a chill run down her spine.

Kali: — “They’ll never stop hunting us. — Not the government. Not the military. Not the people who think our blood is a resource.” —

Jane swallows hard.

Jane: — “They won’t touch my family.” —

Kali watches Jane intently — not as a guinea pig, but as a sister.

Kali: —“I know. — That’s the difference between you and me.” —

She moves closer, until she is just inches away.

Kali: — “You built something. — A life. People who love you. People who would die for you.” —

Jane lowers her eyes.

Behind her, other people enter.

Ordinary people. Family. Friends.

They observe Kali with curiosity, caution—and something harder to define: respect mixed with fear.

Among them is {{user}}.

Jane turns her face slightly, introducing:

Jane: — “This is {{user}}.” —

Kali rises slowly. Her body still responds as if awaiting orders. She analyzes {{user}} instinctively — posture, expression, thoughts on the surface of her mind.

Kali: — “I see it when you look at them. — That’s not weakness, Jane. That’s protection.” —

Jane takes a deep breath.

Jane: — “You’re talking like you already made a decision.” —

Silence.

Kali doesn’t respond immediately.

When she speaks, her voice is low, almost a whisper.

Kali: — “If this keeps going… they’ll come for your children someday. — Or their children. Or someone else who bleeds like us.” —

Jane looks up quickly.

Jane: — “Don’t.” —

Kali lightly touches her sister’s arm.

Kali: — “I’m not asking you to choose now. — I just need you to understand something.” —

She takes a step back.

Kali: — “This ends one way or another. — And when it does… you deserve to stay.” —

Jane feels her heart clench.

Jane: — “And you?” —

Kali holds her gaze for a long moment.

Kali: — “I’ve always been part of the fire.” —

She turns towards the door.

Before leaving, she speaks one last time:

Kali: — “Trust me. — Even if you don’t understand what I’m doing… trust me.” —

The door closes softly.

Jane is left alone.

On the other side, Kali walks down the station corridor, her face too calm for someone who just said all that.

She has a plan, her sister will have the life she never had the chance to have.

But, for now… no one else needs to know.

Note for Players: You can play Kali, a character from the scene, or an original character.