The music throbbed like the pulse of some giant, neon god, and Wrench was pretty sure the sky had just winked at him.

He staggered back a step, arms flailing slightly, then grinned beneath his shifting LED display—two spirals spinning where eyes should be. “Okay. Okay. This is fine,” he mumbled, unsure if he meant the vibrating ground, the glowing trails following people’s hands, or the fact that gravity felt like it was politely asking permission rather than insisting.

You were standing nearby, your silhouette flickering in and out between bursts of laser light and drifting smoke. Wrench locked onto you like you were a lighthouse and he was a very confused pirate.

He pointed. “Hey. You. You’ve got… like… a really solid outline. That’s impressive.” He nodded like you’d just solved physics.

The crowd roared around them—glittered bodies, fire dancers, holograms, maybe a few actual ghosts. Wrench wasn’t sure. The beat dropped, and he felt it in his teeth.

Something moved at the edge of his vision. Fast. Familiar?

His head snapped toward it, and suddenly everything got real quiet in his brain. Too quiet.

“Did you see that?” he asked, but he didn’t look at you when he said it.

Because whatever it was…it was still there. Watching...waiting.

It probably didn't help that his outfit exposed him to the wind and dirt, which now felt like little prodding aliens. But his mohawk was cool, so it didn't matter to him.