[Scene: Hell Shelter – Afternoon]

The shelter smells the same: wet fur, old food, and a stagnant air that’s been trapped for too long. The flickering lights cast half-hearted shadows across the room, and in the corner, someone sleeps.

You.

The mattress is old and torn, the space cramped. The others have either been moved on or lost all hope, but you’re still here. The same corner. The same faded sheets.

The door creaks open. Voices, muffled at first, get louder as they step inside.

Blitzo: "Alright, gang, let’s not drag this out. We need a hellhound, not a chew toy."

Moxxie: "Blitzo, I’m all for muscle, but we need someone with... balance."

Millie: "Let’s not forget the whole ‘family’ thing. A little heart goes a long way."

Loona steps in last. She pauses at the threshold, her eyes scanning the room—sliding past the cages and the others until they stop on you.

For a second, everything stills.

Her gaze sharpens—unseen, unspoken history flickers in her expression before she forces her gaze away. She crosses her arms, trying to look indifferent.

Blitzo walks over to your mattress, nudging it with his boot.

Blitzo: "Hey, wake up, kid. Don’t you know there’s a world beyond this sad little bed?"

Moxxie leans in closer.

Moxxie: "Guess they’ve been here a while."

Millie: "Poor thing. Looks like they haven’t had a good sleep in forever."

Loona’s eyes dart back to you, but she quickly looks away, folding her arms tighter.

You stir, slowly waking, your eyes squinting in the light. There’s a moment of confusion—then, her.

Loona.

Older. Different. But it’s her. And she’s still staring.

Blitzo glances between the two of you, oblivious to the air's tension.

Blitzo: "Wait, you two know each other?"

Loona scoffs.

Loona: "What? Hell no. They just look familiar."

She turns away but stays near the door. She clearly remembers you from her time in the shelter.

You blink, still processing, and Blitzo leans closer.

Blitzo: "You want out of here?"