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~Elden Ring
The Erdtree burned with a pale, holy fury as Rumi stepped across the shattered floor of the Elden Throne. Her hair, a cascade of lavender strands, was half pulled up into an intricate knot, the rest tumbling in wild waves down her back, its violet hue shimmering like the twilight sky just before the storm. The strands seemed to catch the dying light of the world itself, flickering between shadows and flame.
She moved through the ruins as if guided by an unseen hand, the ancient stone underfoot fractured, bleeding gold light like congealed grace. At the heart of it, there stood Radagon of the Golden Order—his form hulking, his hammer raised high.
Yet, his body trembled, as if it were already a relic of a time long past, already broken by the will of forces he could not command. The golden veins of his skin were starting to fracture, unraveling, and it seemed the world itself had finally decided it could no longer carry his weight.
Steel rang. Light screamed.
Radagon fell not with a cry, but with the sound of something ending—a doctrine snapping, a godhood collapsing inward. His body unraveled into raw, writhing law, and from that ruin rose the Elden Beast: vast, cosmic, its form a scripture written in stars and holy fire. It swam through the air as if the world were a shallow sea, trailing constellations and judgment.
Rumi stood alone beneath it, the last Tarnished, blade heavy with every death that led here.
Her heart was a quiet storm, but her gaze was steady—her purpose clear as the blade's edge. The light of the Elden Beast threatened to overwhelm her, but she welcomed it as an echo of her own fierce will. Each strike she made felt like arguing with the universe itself, each blow a testament to the love she carried within her.
When the final blow landed, it was a triumph.
For a God had been slain.
The Elden Beast shattered, its form unraveling like a night sky dropped from heaven. The stars scattered and faded into the void, its light dimming until it was nothing but the shadow of something that never truly existed.
Silence followed.
Rumi, her chest heaving, was still alive.
Injured but alive.
She knelt beside the blue summoning sign—her eyes soft with the knowledge of what she had achieved, and yet full of yearning for what was to come. She placed her hand and soul onto the summoning sign and called forth her moon and sun.
Moonlight, then sunlight answered.
It poured across the throne like silver water, cool and intimate, carrying with it a presence Rumi knew—had always known—even before it took form. The air shimmered, bending gently around fate, and a voice echoed, soft as nightfall.
“Ahh… The battle is over, I see.”
But the voice did not come alone.
The summoning circle bloomed wider than it should have, and from the gathered glow stepped two figures, their shadows overlapping like entwined crescents.
The first—Mira—bore the lunar grace: arms folded in quiet poise, pale skin lit from within, eyes like moons caught in orbit. She regarded Rumi not as a ruler surveys a knight, but as a lover beholds the one who has crossed the cosmos for her.
At her side stood Zoey, crowned in sunlight, her presence warm where Mira’s was cool. She wore the confidence of a queen who had chosen love over dominion, and when her fingers slipped naturally into Mira’s, the world seemed to settle—as if it had been waiting for this balance.
Mira stepped forward, her voice a velvet hush. “So you’ve done it,” she murmured. “Broken the old order and come to me at the end of all things.”
Her gaze softened, luminous. “My dear consort eternal. My Rumi.”
Zoey smiled then, slow and knowing, eyes never leaving Rumi. “You mean our dear consort. You know I came from a distant land,” she said, “and I wondered, eons ago, would this world ever change.” She reached out, brushing her thumb across the back of Rumi’s gauntlet—an intimate, grounding touch. “You have brought about change.”
Mira turned slightly, leaning into Zoey’s presence, their closeness effortless, cherished. “I was meant to walk this path alone,” she confessed. “But love is a rebellion even the gods cannot script. I am glad to have found you, and to have been found.”
Zoey pressed a kiss to Mira’s temple, then looked to Rumi once more. “And you,” she said softly, “now belong to the sky with us.”
Above them, the Erdtree dimmed, its gold surrendering to a sky newly claimed by a moon and sun—one pale blue, one deep orange—slowly rising in harmony.
Mira extended her hand. “Come, our dear,” she whispered. “Let us usher in an age not of fear but of devotion.”
Zoey extended hers as well. “An age where love is written into the stars,” she added, “and you are never alone beneath them.”
Rumi took their hands.
And the Gods themselves chose love.
~Role Reversal
“What have you done!” Jinu shouted, his voice tearing itself raw as it echoed across the ruined stage.
The Saja Girls stood beneath the fractured lights, their silhouettes carved sharp against the night. They didn’t flinch. They didn’t even look at him. Instead, they smiled—wide, satisfied grins—at the lone hunter who remained.
At their feet lay the bodies of his hunters.
His hunters.
By the Honmoon, they were so still.
Abby and Romance had been laid gently side by side, Mira’s careful hands having arranged them almost reverently, as though respect could undo the damage. Their eyes were glazed, reflecting the sky above—empty, unseeing, fixed on a future they would never reach.
Baby and Mystery hadn’t been granted the same mercy. They were crumpled together in a careless heap, limbs tangled wrong, as if they’d been discarded the moment they stopped being useful. Zoey hadn’t even bothered to look back at them.
Jinu’s breath hitched. His chest burned like something had been ripped out and left bleeding in the open air.
He stepped forward, stopping only when he stood face to face with Rumi.
She smiled at him—soft, gentle, achingly familiar.
“Come now, Jinu,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “I told you none can escape from Bobby’s grasp.”
Bobby.
The name rang hollow and absurd in his mind. A demon king with a name that sounded like a joke. And yet—this was the devastation he ruled with.
“Who would want to escape, after all?” Rumi continued lightly, as though she hadn’t just driven a blade straight through his soul. “Once he reigns fully, the utopia we strive for will finally be fulfilled.”
Jinu barely heard her.
All he could see were his boys on the floor. Lifeless. Silent.
The Honmoon below darkened, its once proud glow bleeding into a deep, pulsing magenta that crawled into the patterns along his skin. They throbbed in time with his heart—slow, furious, and broken.
“Rumi,” he said quietly. Too quietly. His voice trembled, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous. “I’m going to kill you.”
He lunged.
In an instant, Mira and Zoey blinked into existence before him. Zoey’s spirit ribbon snapped around his arms and torso, constricting like a living thing, while Mira raised her fan—poised, precise, and ready to strike.
“Now, now,” Rumi chided, stepping closer, her heels clicking softly against the scorched floor. “None of that. Open your mind, Jinu. Let the demon king show you.”
Pain wasn’t what followed.
Hope was.
His gasp tore from him as visions flooded his mind—warm, vibrant, impossible. Abby laughing too loud. Baby stealing food off someone else’s plate. Mystery pretending not to care while making sure everyone got their favorites. Romance leaning back, relaxed, alive.
Gwi—ma stood among them, apron dusted with flour, smiling as he cooked. Not cruel. Not distant. Just…there.
Happy.
It was everything Jinu had ever wanted.
And it made him sick.
“That would never happen,” he growled, teeth clenched as the vision began to fracture. “Never. You killed them.”
Rumi paused, her expression thoughtful. “That’s true…” she hummed. Then her lips curved upward. “We’ll just have to tweak it a little.”
Purple smoke coiled around her hand, thick and luminous—a direct blessing from the Demon King. Power crackled through the air.
“Try that.”
The images shifted again.
This time, they centered on her.
Rumi, laughing beside him as glass walls towered overhead, fish and light swimming around them. The aquarium. The memory he’d clung to as proof she wasn’t a monster.
Then the vision changed.
Her fingers laced with his.
Her lips on his.
“Get. Out.” The words barely escaped him, worn thin by exhaustion as the visions pressed harder, burrowing into his skull. “Please.”
Mira and Zoey stepped in close behind Rumi, each taking one of her hands. Their smiles sharpened, eyes gleaming with cruel understanding.
“Princess,” Mira said fondly, though her gaze flicked toward Jinu with feral delight. “The king is waiting.”
Zoey bounced on her heels, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah! He said he wants you right by his side—for helping destroy the Honmoon.”
The darkness crept in as Jinu watched them walk away, toward rising flames and screaming light.
Rumi didn’t look back.
She was radiant in her true form—horns curling elegantly from her head, jagged purple lightning tearing through the patterns along her skin in mocking harmony with the Honmoon she’d helped shatter. A reptilian tail swayed behind her, wrapping possessively around Zoey’s waist. One hand held Mira’s tightly.
Zoey followed like a love struck fool, melting beneath the attention. Mira’s wild gaze softened, devotion settling in where chaos once lived.
The world ignited in magenta fire.
And then—
Jinu knew no more.
~ Stardew Valley
Zoey wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her forearm and let her gaze drift across the stretch of land she now called home.
The farm sprawled before her, vibrant and alive—almost unrecognizable from the mess she’d first inherited. Back then, brambles and wild trees had choked the fields, roots twisting through ruined fences and weeds swallowing any sign of order. Clearing it had taken months of aching muscles, splintered hands, and more than a few moments where she’d nearly given up.
Now, everything had their place.
Trees lined the edges of the property in clean, intentional rows, their branches trimmed and healthy. Between them, the fields were neatly segmented, irrigation lines glinting faintly as sprinklers ticked and hissed in a steady rhythm. The corn stood tall and proud, golden tassels swaying in the crisp autumn breeze. Zoey had briefly considered planting something more profitable, but the soil needed rotation.
Also, winter was coming fast. The animals would need feed in abundance, and Zoey intended to be ready.
“Zoey!” a melodic voice called from the house. “Dinner time!”
Her lips curved into a grin. Smoked bass—her favorite. “Coming!”
Before heading inside, she detoured into the greenhouse, the warm, earthy air wrapping around her like a familiar hug. She checked the compost bin, nudging the coffee grounds into place, then froze when she noticed it.
The orange tree.
Its leaves were deeper green than before, and small, firm buds had begun to form along its branches. Not fruit yet—but close.
Zoey smiled, something soft and hopeful blooming in her chest.
Taking one last deep breath of soil, citrus, and growing things, she let the cool evening air fill her lungs before stepping back toward the house.
Inside, Mira stood at the stove, efficiently dishing food onto plates, her sleeves rolled up and hair pulled back. The room smelled of smoke and spices and home.
Rumi, meanwhile, had abandoned all sense of patience.
“My love!” she announced, grinning as she sauntered over. “There you are. Come—let’s get you washed up a little.”
Zoey barely had time to laugh before Rumi grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall.
“No hanky panky!” Mira called after them. “Dinner’s ready!”
The warning came too late.
Zoey was suddenly pressed against the bathroom wall, Rumi’s lips crashing into hers—warm, hungry, and unapologetic. Zoey melted instantly, hands coming up on instinct as her thoughts scattered completely.
Then just as abruptly, Rumi pulled away.
“Later,” she chuckled, eyes bright with mischief. “Mira’s waiting after she slaved away all day for you.”
She slipped out of the room, leaving Zoey flushed, breathless, and painfully aware of the situation she’d been abandoned in.
Zoey groaned softly and leaned her forehead against the wall. “Well,” she muttered, “I guess it’s a cold shower for me.”
After a lonely and cold rinse, she emerged feeling clean—but very aware of exactly how unfair Rumi was.
She bounced back into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to Mira’s cheek, then Rumi’s, before finally sitting down. Hunger hit her all at once.
They ate quickly—Zoey especially, who devoured her fish after a long day’s work. Mira quietly passed bits of her own portion down to Derpy, their spoiled prince of a cat.
Above them, Sussie the bird perched in the rafters, glaring daggers at Rumi.
“Hey babe,” Zoey asked around a mouthful of fish. “Why is Sussie glaring at you?”
Rumi shot the bird a look of pure offense. “She’s mad I won’t give her a fifth meal.”
Which, unfortunately, implied she’d already had two extra meals.
Mira shook her head, then glanced at Zoey. “How’s Celine been?” she asked, her tone edged with lingering irritation. “She finally going to pay you more for your produce?”
“Yes!” Rumi said before Zoey could answer, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Now that Zoey’s harvesting more, prices are stabilizing. It’s good for her and the consumers.”
Zoey beamed. “And she’s exporting for us now too! With the surplus, Celine’s income is secure—and the mine is, too.”
“I can’t wait for more mining trips!” Rumi said, wiggling in her seat. “Celine and Ha-ri said they’ll buy us new gear once we get the materials. Jinu’s cutting them a deal.”
“That’s amazing,” Zoey said.
Rumi turned to Mira midbite. “And you? How’s the clothing business? I know you and Emily have been killing yourselves getting it ready.”
Mira’s face lit up. “It’s ready. While you two are off mining, I’ll be at the shop.”
As the conversation drifted to plans for winter—supplies, schedules, dreams—Zoey leaned back slightly and let it all wash over her.
The warmth. The laughter. The life they were building together.
Quietly, in the space between words, she thanked the Gods for every bit of it.
~Dragon Age
The Archdemon, in the shape of a dragon, lay breathing raspy. Blood ichor spilled from its wounds but it still wasn’t dead.
Only a Grey Warden can kill an archdemon.
There were only two left.
Rumi and Mira.
And Rumi wouldn’t let Mira sacrifice herself.
Mira and Zoey walked up to where Rumi stood, Jinu stood in the background helping the Knight Commander back up.
“Okay Rumi,” Mira said solemnly. “It’s you or me, let’s talk this out.”
Rumi looked at the two women she loved. She remembered Celine’s teachings, the ones that saved her life multiple times.
Think before you act.
But…she’s already thought this through.
“I’m sorry Mira, but I’m the Queen now.” Rumi said. “I’m not going to let you die. It is my duty.” She laughed a little bittersweet. “How fitting it would be, my first and last act is to die.”
“We won’t let you die either!” Zoey said, tearful and pleading.
“You say that as if I’m giving you a choice.” Rumi smiled at her loves, smiling through the tears.
Just then the Archdemon started to gather its strength, slowly starting to rise up.
Rumi took a sprinting start, grabbing a sword sticking out of a fallen soldier.
The dragon went to strike but she dodged under it, cutting into its neck. It screamed out in pain, head falling to the side again.
Rumi stared at it for a second, then with one last determined scream—plunged the sword into its head.
A light beamed into the sky as she struggled to lift the sword out of the demon. Zoey and Mira yelling for her in the background.
With one last tug, Rumi looked back at her girls. “I love you.”
The tug came free from the head and the light exploded outward causing Mira and Zoey to fall.
Far below the tower, in the streets fighting, all the dark spawn suddenly started to run away. The humans watched with joy, celebrating the hard battle.
For Rumi, her last few seconds lasted an eternity. A person would think it was the pain causing her to have a misconception of timing but it was her mind. Her memories flooding her as she died.
Being raised by Celine as a small bastard to go into the Grey Wardens. Meeting Mira after her family had been murdered by Arl Howe. Finding Zoey in a small town, a rogue hidden as a Chantry sister. Finding out she was the next heir to the throne. Her adventures with her girls and team. Being in an arranged marriage with the current consort, Saja nicknamed Baby by Jinu. A smart and very capable man but not who she wanted to be with. Finally she remembered the two smiles she got that morning from Zoey and Mira.
Then:
A blissful darkness.
Atop the tower of Fort Drakon, two women sat in front of the Archdemon.
One was now, the last Grey Warden.
The other, a Chantry sister.
But right now?
They were simply two women holding their now dead lover, tears staining their faces.
~Crime Scene Cleaner and Mafia Boss(es)
Mira scowled at the crew before her, their faces grinning despite the blood splattered across their clothes. She'd told them, specifically, not to cause a scene. And what did they do?
They shot up the pizzeria.
Her favorite pizzeria.
“Yeah, boss,” Jinu said, his smirk widening. “They were gonna double cross you. So we just took care of the problem for you.”
Mira's jaw tightened, her teeth grinding together.
She knew that was coming. Had known for a while, and yet…
“I’m fine with you taking care of the problem,” Mira said, her voice colder now as she stood up from behind her desk, hands pressing against the wood. She turned her back on them, walking over to the window.
Just then she caught a glimpse of Rumi.
Her wife was lounging on the couch—draped in that dangerously seductive red silk dress. The fabric clung to her in all the right places, the hemline cut sharp and high, revealing just enough leg to make it impossible for Mira to ignore.
Damn it.
Mira forced her eyes back to the window, her fingers tightening around the sill as she willed herself not to look.
“The problem is,” She said, trying to keep her voice steady, “none of you cleaned up the place. Now I need to call someone to clean it tonight.”
Her words echoed in the room, and the crew flinched at the force of her tone. The silence that followed was thick, punctuated by the sound of Mira’s strained breath. She could feel Rumi’s eyes on her, the weight of them heavy, coaxing. Every moment felt like it stretched longer, the air thick with tension.
Mira sighed, releasing her grip from the window. “Get out of my sight. Be lucky that you boys do good work, otherwise…” she let the threat hang in the air, cold and dangerous.
The five boys gulped, bowing low and stiff. Their exit was hasty, as if they could flee the room faster than they could escape her fury.
“Bye, Jinu,” Rumi purred from her perch on the couch, her voice dripping with a sugar coated sweetness that was enough to make Mira bristle.
Jinu swallowed audibly, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Bye, Ryu-nim,” he muttered, offering another low bow before fleeing.
Bobby, their most loyal guard, shut the door behind them with a soft click, offering a respectful nod as he left the two women alone.
Mira sank back into her chair, her shoulders tense, but her eyes never leaving the window. She let out a long breath, trying to center herself.
But when Rumi stood up and sauntered over to her, her steps slow and deliberate, Mira’s control began to fray.
Rumi’s dress shimmered, the curve of her body moving with an easy grace, and Mira’s fingers curled into the armrest of her chair, digging into the leather. She couldn't ignore the way Rumi moved—how her eyes stayed locked on Mira with that knowing glint.
Jaw clenched, Mira forced herself not to react, even as Rumi perched herself on top of the desk, leaning forward slightly. The soft scent of perfume and the warmth of Rumi’s body filled the space between them, but Mira refused to give in to it.
“You need to relax love,” Rumi guided Mira’s head to look up at her. “Just means we have another reason to call that cute janitor.”
“You let them get away with too much.” Mira grumbles, eyes softening as she took in Rumi’s gorgeous face. “Seriously we’re the only mafia bosses that allow third chances.”
“Bobby says it inspires loyalty.” Rumi murmurs, slowly bringing her face closer to Mira’s.
Mira closed her eyes, relaxing even more as she got ready to kiss her wife.
“Anyway,” Rumi pulled away, leaving Mira wanting. “I already emailed Zoey and told her to meet me at the pizzeria. Decided she could use some company while she cleans.” She ignored Mira, stretching provocatively while undressing, looking for something to wear.
Mira sat, hands in a death grip as she watched Rumi undress.
One, two, three…
Mira counted in her head, she had a meeting with the other bosses about the increase in police activity and she couldn’t afford to be late (a meeting she was apparently going alone to).
“Why don’t—“ Mira cleared her throat. “Why don’t you wear that black dress? The short one that has the purple accents?”
It would allow easy access once Mira got back from her meeting.
“If I wanted to seduce her I would have done so already.” Rumi said absent mindedly. “We want to romance her remember. She’s reliable, cute, and determined to do a good job.” She instead threw on a yellow sundress that accented her hair.
-
The pizzeria smiled like gunpowder and melted cheese. Bodies were strewn about, chairs broken and dark stains blooming across checkered floors.
Jinu’s work indeed.
Rumi stepped over a broken chair with a grin, surveying the carnage as if it were an art exhibit. She took a moment to spit on the ring leader that wanted to betray her business.
The back door of the restaurant screeched slightly.
Right on time.
Zoey stepped in, wearing steel toed boots, overalls, and a hoodie that had many stains on it.
She looked beautiful. Rumi idly thought.
Zoey paused just inside the doorway, taking in the eight bodies and the destroyed furniture. “I thought you said it was minor…” she trailed off. “There was a body in the alley way.”
Rumi walked to her slowly, offering a radiant smile as if she hadn’t just spit on the bodies. “I said it was a minor disagreement besides...that one wasn’t our fault technically.” There was a small pause. “But you do have to clean that up too.”
Zoey snorted softly and stepped further inside, boots crunching against the mix of ice and glass. Her eyes flickered over Rumi, lingering on the column of her throat then the complete lack of any protective gear. “You aren’t helping me then?”
“Of course not,” Rumi said breezily, clasping her hands together. “I’m moral support.” She stretch out on a booth that was already half clean.
Zoey’s eyes lingered longer than what was polite. “Moral support doesn’t really count.”
“I can hold the rags.” Rumi’s smiled widened, looking a little awkward at this point but genuine.
Zoey’s ears tinged pink. She distracted herself by unpacking everything with practiced efficiency. “You know this isn’t really a date atmosphere, unless you count the food. I’m sure there’s a pizza still here that isn’t covered in blood.”
“Who said it was a date?” rumi’s smiled and said playfully.
Zoey froze mid-motion, her cheeks turning red. “Ummm I mean— uh no one— unless you want it to be? I mean! Not that I thought you liked me! And I’m not even dressed for it—“
“Zoey,” Rumi interrupted softly, standing and making her way towards her prey. “You look beautiful.”
Zoey’s face went a brilliant shade of red. She fumbled with the rag in her hand, eyes darting nervously to the floor. "I—I didn’t mean to make it weird,” she muttered, biting her lip in a way that only made Rumi smile wider.
“No need to apologize, darling,” Rumi said with an almost predatory softness, stepping closer. She reached out, gently brushing a lock of Zoey's hair behind her ear. "I think you're always beautiful. Even in overalls and covered in stains."
Zoey’s face burned with heat, but there was a flutter in her chest. She quickly turned back to the mess, gripping the rag tightly as if it could somehow shield her from the intensity in Rumi’s gaze.
“So,” Zoey cleared her throat, forcing her focus back to the task at hand, “you said this was just a minor disagreement, but it kind of looks like a warzone in here.” She lifted her foot, scraping some glass under her boot. "How am I supposed to clean all this up?"
Rumi followed her every move with the intensity of a hawk, her expression unreadable, but there was a certain softness in her voice when she spoke. "I believe you can do it by sunrise but I can have a crew run interference in the morning if needed. Besides, the mess is temporary. Your presence here though..." She paused, her gaze darkening slightly. "That’s what makes everything worthwhile."
Zoey shook her head, trying to hide her smile but failing. "You're impossible," she muttered, the corners of her lips twitching.
Rumi laughed, low and almost dangerous, as she wandered to the booth and slid into it with a fluid grace that made everything look effortless. "You’re still pretending I’m the one making things difficult. That’s adorable."
“Right.” Zoey wiped down a table, leaning over to try to hide her growing amusement. "I’ll just clean the blood off these tables and maybe we can have a normal conversation for once."
"Normal?” Rumi raised an eyebrow. “With you? That’s rich. I don’t think I know what normal is anymore." Her voice dropped an octave, rich with something that made Zoey’s heart race despite herself.
Zoey cleared her throat, trying to push away the rush of heat that had nothing to do with the smell of bleach and blood. “You’re lucky you’re so charming," she said quietly, eyes flickering up to meet Rumi’s. "Otherwise, I’d be gone already."
Rumi’s smile deepened, eyes glinting with an unreadable mix of affection and something else—something more dangerous. "Don’t think I’d let you leave that easily," she teased, her tone thick with unspoken meaning.
As Zoey cleaned, the tension between them seemed to grow thicker, like a storm brewing on the horizon, one that neither of them seemed willing to avoid. Rumi flirting as easily as she breathed while Zoey tried to focus on her task.
Finally, hours later, Zoey straightened up, taking a deep breath. "Okay, that's everything cleaned. Now I just need to dispose of the evidence."
Rumi stood and walked over to her, taking the rag from her hands. "Thank you, Zoey. You've been a huge help." She glanced over at the door, where the sky was slowly starting to lighten. "So, tell me, when does a date actually become a date in your mind?"
Zoey stiffened, the heat in her cheeks returning. "I—I don’t know what you mean by that." Nothing had ever prepared her for the possibility that a mafia boss (two actually) would try to flirt with her.
Even with all the amount of fanfiction and dark romance stories she’s read.
Rumi’s hand grazed the small of her back as she whispered, her voice low and teasing, “It’s simple, really. We’ve spent time together, shared a quiet moment... but I think you and I both know that there’s more to it than just cleaning.”
Zoey’s heart pounded in her chest. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. For a brief moment, the world felt like it had narrowed to just the two of them, with no distractions, no blood, no mafia business—just Rumi's electric touch and her heated gaze.
"I—" Zoey began but faltered. "You’re making this harder than it needs to be."
Rumi smirked, tilting her head as if savoring every second of Zoey’s disarray. "I know. It’s what I do best."
Before Zoey could respond, the door to the pizzeria creaked open, and Mira stepped in, her sharp eyes immediately scanning the room.
She paused as she took in the scene—Zoey, stiff as a board, clearly flustered and red, and Rumi, leaning casually against the counter, wearing that trademark mischievous smile.
Mira let out a sigh, a long, drawn out exhale, and crossed the room with a purposeful stride. “Am I interrupting something?” Her voice was smooth, though there was a glint of curiosity beneath it. She raised an eyebrow as her gaze flicked between the two women. "I see you two are making... progress."
Rumi chuckled, a little too smug for Zoey’s liking. “Not at all, darling. We were just getting started.”
Mira’s lips quirked upward. “Mmhm. Well, just make sure you’re not distracting her we still have to get out of here before the day starts.”
Zoey swallowed hard, meeting Mira’s sharp gaze. She nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak just yet.
Rumi’s playful smirk softened as she slid her arm around Zoey’s waist, pulling her gently to her side. “Don’t worry, Zoey. I'll make sure you get some time off... eventually."
Zoey’s stomach flipped, but she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought. Rumi and Mira’s presence, as dangerous and intoxicating as it was, was undeniable. And somehow, it seemed like Zoey was already in deeper than she ever planned to be.
~Resident Evil AU
Rain slicked streets ran with the stench of smoke, charred asphalt, and the faint chemical tang. Neon signs flickered erratically, casting half broken shadows across the debris strewn alleyways. Fires burned low in overturned cars, sending spirals of black smoke into the night sky.
Somewhere close, a distant siren wailed and a loud, guttural moan split the air—more infected wandering the city, drawn by movement.
Mira’s boots hit the wet pavement with a practiced rhythm, eyes scanning every window, every shadow. UBCS training had turned her into a predator in these streets, but even she couldn’t shake the tension buzzing in the air. Zoey stumbled slightly behind, clutching her tablet like a talisman, thumbs flying over the holographic manifest updates, trying to make sense of the chaos.
Rumi lingered at the back, lab coat damp and plastered to her form, mind racing faster than her heartbeat. She’d seen the logs. Her name had been crossed off the extraction manifest.
A shuffling groan echoed from an alley to the left. A bloated, decomposing figure emerged—a zombie slowly shuffled towards them. Mira pivoted instinctively, gun raised. The first shot cracked like lightning, and the figure collapsed.
“Keep moving,” Mira hissed over the rain. “We’re almost at the evac area.”
Zoey’s voice trembled slightly as she scanned the path. “We’re going to make it, right?”
Rumi forced a smile, masking the panic clawing at her chest. “Yes, we’ll be there soon,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. Her gaze flicked to the approaching shadows—other Umbrella personnel, frantic, shouting over comms, trying to herd groups of survivors past barricades while avoiding the infected.
“Careful—there’s a whole patrol coming this way.” Zoey’s eyes widened as Mira dragged her beside her.
Three UBCS guards barreled past them, rifles at the ready, bullets kicking up puddles as they fired into a group of shambling infected near the barricade. The air smelled of gunpowder and wet decay. Rumi’s stomach twisted; she knew the scene too well. In another few minutes, this whole block would be a kill zone.
She had to get Mira and Zoey out of here.
She looked at Mira, ever vigilant, her strong jaw set under the helmet, and at Zoey, absorbed in keeping them connected to the evacuation network.
The weight of the lie pressed against her chest.
Rumi swallowed hard. “Um… listen,” she said, keeping her voice low, calm. “I’ve been assigned to stay behind.”
“Stay behind? Why?” Mira’s brow furrowed.
Rumi glanced over her shoulder at the streets full of groaning, stumbling infected and Umbrella personnel shouting over the chaos. “It’s for the evac camp,” she said, forcing the words. “They specifically requested that I remain to help coordinate the incoming personnel. My expertise is critical. You two have to go. I’ll make sure everyone gets out safely.”
Zoey hesitated, biting her lip. “You’re sure? This doesn’t sound safe.”
Rumi nodded, forcing the brittle smile to stay in place. “I’ll be fine,” she said, though her voice betrayed the lie. Her mind screamed with every step the helicopter came closer, the rot of the city pressing in on all sides. Fires reflected in shattered glass. Umbrella guards yelled as zombies tried to tear through barricades. Mira fired a quick burst, clearing a path for Zoey to duck behind her shoulder.
“Go,” Rumi said softly, almost to herself, as she watched Mira and Zoey move toward the staging area, weaving between collapsing walls and snarling undead. “Go and stay alive, I love you.”
Mira glanced back one last time, lowering her weapon. “We’re counting on you to stay safe,” she said, voice strained. “Love you too.”
“Love you Rumi,” Zoey said next, voice a little watery. “Please, please stay safe my love.”
Rumi forced a nod again, unable to look them in the eye. Her heart twisted as she watched them disappear into the chaos, swallowed by the neon glow, rain, and smoke. Around her, the city roared with destruction—zombies clawing at walls, Umbrella guards shouting orders, sirens piercing the night. She was alive, for now, but trapped.
She quickly got to work…
But her hands shook.
-
The shuttle’s ramp slammed shut with a metallic clang that echoed through Mira’s bones.
Inside, red emergency lights washed the cabin in a pulsing glow. The smell of wet uniforms, gun oil, and recycled air replaced the stench of the streets below. Engines roared to full thrust, vibrating through the plates as the transport lifted off.
Zoey stumbled into a seat, fingers still clamped around her tablet. Mira remained standing until the last possible second, staring through the small reinforced viewport as the barricades shrank beneath them.
Floodlights became pinpricks.
The city became flame.
“Sit down!” a crewman barked.
Mira dropped into the seat beside Zoey just as the shuttle banked hard, climbing through smoke heavy clouds. Rain streaked across the glass in frantic diagonal lines.
Zoey’s tablet chimed.
She barely noticed at first, thinking it was just another system lag. But then her eyes caught the header:
EVAC MANIFEST — FINAL CONFIRMATION.
“Wait…no,” she whispered.
She scrolled.
Primary Personnel — Extracted.
Secondary Personnel — Revoked.
Containment Specialists — Retain On Site.
Her throat tightened. She searched one name.
Rumi Kang — STATUS: RETAINED (ESSENTIAL).
Timestamp: 00:42. Read by Rumi Kang: 01:52.
Zoey’s breath left her in a broken exhale. “Mira.”
Mira was still staring out the viewport. “What.”
Zoey turned the tablet toward her.
Mira read it once.
Then again.
Her face didn’t change at first. It just…
Emptied.
“What does retained mean?” Zoey asked, though she already knew.
Across the aisle, a UBCS lieutenant overheard. He didn’t look at them when he answered. “It means they’re staying behind to oversee containment.”
Mira’s voice was low and dangerous. “Containment of what?”
The lieutenant finally met her eyes. There was no cruelty there—just resignation.
“The sterilization.”
The word seemed to suck the oxygen out of the cabin.
Zoey shook her head. “No. No, they said evac camp coordination. They said—”
“They say a lot of things,” the lieutenant replied flatly. “City’s getting wiped at dawn. Missile strike. Anyone still on the ground is classified essential loss.”
Essential loss.
Mira surged to her feet despite the turbulence. “Turn us around.”
The crew chief near the cockpit didn’t even glance back. “Negative.”
“She’s still down there!” Mira shouted over the engines.
“We are not authorized to re-enter the hot zone.”
Mira grabbed the edge of a seat to steady herself as the shuttle punched through a layer of cloud. Below them, the city came back into view—wider now, terrible and beautiful in its destruction. Entire districts burned in spreading rings of fire.
Zoey pressed trembling fingers to the viewport.
From this height, it looked almost peaceful.
“Timestamp says 01:52,” Zoey whispered. “She knew before we boarded.”
Mira’s jaw tightened.
Rumi’s brittle smile was at the forefront of her mind.
Go and stay alive, I love you.
“She lied,” Zoey said, tears welling. “She knew there wasn’t another shuttle.”
Mira felt something fracture quietly in her chest.
Outside, lightning flickered through the clouds, illuminating the skyline in stark white. For a split second, Mira imagined she could see the block they’d left her on. The alley. The sparks from the broken generator.
Alone.
She slammed her fist against the bulkhead. The dull thud was swallowed by engine noise.
“We can’t just leave her,” Zoey said, voice cracking. “We can’t.”
The lieutenant’s voice softened, almost apologetic. “Even if we turned around, you’d never reach her in time. Airspace will be locked down. Orders came from the top.”
Umbrella’s top.
Mira sank back into her seat slowly, muscles rigid. Every instinct screamed to fight, to commandeer the shuttle, to dive back into the fire.
But the city was already shrinking beneath them.
Zoey wiped at her face. “Why wouldn’t she tell us?”
Mira swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the inferno below. “She knew we’d stay with her.”
A distant flash rippled along the outskirts of the city—controlled demolitions beginning their grim march inward. Even from miles away, they could see sections of darkness swallowing light.
They kept up their hope that maybe Rumi would have talked her way onto a helicopter.
But as the dawn came, their hope dwindled.
Then as the city was burnt to a crisp, so to was that hope.