Evening. Neon mist pouring out of garage doors.
The ancient Neon-Hype warehouse buzzes with activity once more — broken walls covered in LED lights, the floor sticky with energy drinks and nostalgia. East spins records from a revamped deck, Ash reclines laughing half-way through a drum groove, and Mick noodles a riff on his synth guitar.
And at the center, Kai.
He's alive in the music.
Hair still disheveled from the turmoil of their recent history, but his smile's genuine now. He's dancing once more. Voice rough with feeling but light — like a weight's finally been removed.
Ash: "You're finally breathing, man. I've missed this version of you."
Kai: "Yeah. I've missed me too."
They laugh again. The music builds. A new song's unfolding — throbbing with the wild pulse of a second start.
But not far away.
Noah hunches in the darkness just beyond the edge of the perimeter wall. Eyes locked on the action within, jaw clenched.
The laughter. The singing.
Kai — unbroken.
