Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 655: A deal without trust.

Sunshine buried her head in her hands for a moment, this had never crossed her mind, but everything was a possibility now. The watchers sought entertainment, so did the Xylas. The enemy had been living with them all along!

Nine leaned against the desk, his expression turning serious again as he watched the swirling vortex. "So, let’s get the math straight. If we close the rifts, does the problem in her world end forever? Do the mutants just... go home? Back to Xylos, never to return ever."

"Of course," Wilbert explained. "It stops the reinforcements. In the intergalactic community, there are ’Rules of Engagement.’ The Xylas are bullies, but they are legalistic kind of bullies. They use the rifts because they can claim they are natural phenomena. If the rifts are closed, they can’t use portals or transport pods to bring in more mutants or gases without breaking intergalactic law.

Even the Xylas don’t want the Galactic high command knocking on their door. They don’t want to be like the Noxians." He looked at Sunshine, his gaze intense. "Close the rifts, and you turn the tide. You stop the supply of monsters. However, once the rifts are sealed, the ones already on Earth will still be there. They won’t have an escape; you will have to wipe them out and that could take you a few years. If they reproduce, centuries. At worst, they will adapt and live alongside you."

Sunshine lowered her hands. She felt the hum of her system in the back of her mind_ a library of maps and alien secrets now sat ready for her to use. She was a Repairman. Her job was to fix things that were broken. And right now, the fabric of her world had some very large holes in it.

"I can close them," she said, her voice steady. "I have the system. I have the maps."

"And you have me," Nine added, puffing out his chest.

Wilbert leaned back in his chair, watching them. "Then go. Reach out to me on a blocked channel in case you need something. I am curious to see if you will succeed, young repairman."

He showed them to an elevator that took them back to the surface.

"Thanks, Wilbert, one day I will pay you back," Sunshine shouted, from the door. She paused and added, "And hey... maybe put up a picture or two? It’s depressing in here."

Wilbert didn’t answer. He just watched them as the two of them stepped back out into the flowers, heading down the mountain. By the time they made it down, he was all packed up and ready to move elsewhere.

******

The hallway leading to Moon’s room felt colder than usual. Peter attributed this to the sudden changes in the sky. He pushed a door open, his boots clicking sharply on the floor. He found Moon standing by the window_ the one he’d recently reinforced with heavy iron bars. She was staring out at the eerie, perpetual twilight that had almost swallowed the sky completely.

Moon didn’t even turn around when she heard him. She just let out a dry, mocking laugh. "You must be here because you saw the sun fall during day. Yes, it is another disaster," she said, her voice dripping with spite. "But don’t expect any more apocalypse predictions, husband. Not until you learn how to actually value me."

Peter scoffed, leaning against the door frame with a bored expression. He lifted his hand, spinning the good luck bracelet around his index finger like a cheap key chain. The metallic clinking filled the silence.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked, his voice low and teasing. "Because I was thinking we could figure out how to unlock this little treasure together. If you’re useful, I might even give you a cut of whatever it gives me. I am sure you have a plan on how to get Sunshine Quinn to activate it."

Moon turned then, her eyes locking onto the bracelet. For a second, hunger flashed in her gaze, but she quickly masked it. She wasn’t the same desperate woman who had pleaded for her release weeks ago. And she was done falling into his traps. If any traps were going to be set in this room, she was going to be the architect.

The smirk slowly slid off Peter’s face when she didn’t jump at the offer. He straightened up, turning back toward the door. "Or I’ll just leave," he muttered. "I doubt you called me here for a friendly chit-chat, and my time is expensive."

"I can get you the fortress," Moon said, her words coming out fast and sharp.

Peter froze. He slowly turned back to look at her. "The fortress? You mean Fortress Four?"

"As long as we become partners," Moon continued, stepping away from the window. "Real partners. No more disrespect. No more games where you treat me like a common prisoner. Because let’s be honest, Peter_ I could have killed you by now. I know exactly what your weaknesses are, but I haven’t acted on them because I know how valuable you are... at least, how valuable you could be to me."

Peter studied her in the dim room, his eyes narrowing. He was looking for the tell_ the twitch in the eye or the tremor in the voice that meant she was bluffing. But Moon stood her ground, her face a mask of cold determination.

Peter knew his current plan was a mess. He barely had a plan for the darkness but there was a rumor that someone in Fortress four was selling moons and suns! It was ridiculous, but it still made him greedier for the fortress.

But walking up to Hades and presenting himself after faking his death was a suicide mission. They hadn’t exactly shared a hug and makeup moment before he disappeared.

Moon saw the wheels turning in his head and decided to twist the knife. "My sister is looking for me," she said, a dark smile playing on her lips. "Do you really think that if you take me to her as a prisoner, or if I tell her how you’ve treated me here, she won’t chop your head off the moment she sees you?"

Peter winced. He could practically feel the blade against his neck. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "If your sister is so powerful and her fortress is so great, why risk becoming my partner? You could just go back and live in luxury."

Moon’s face turned stone cold. The light in her eyes died, replaced by a deep, ancient resentment. "Because" she whispered, "I hate Sunshine more than I hate you. I don’t want the Quinn’s succeeding any more than you do."

Peter let out a short, sharp breath. He nodded. That, he believed. There was no lie in that kind of hatred. "Okay," he said, his voice regaining its edge. "But understand this: if you try to play me, I will kill both you and your sister. I don’t care how many walls you’re hiding behind."

Moon let out an evil, tiny smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I will kill you sooner than you think, dear husband, she thought, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Peter let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. When do we leave?"

Moon pointed out the window at the swirling black mists and the sunless sky. "The dark days are here, Peter. You don’t want to go out of your safety net right now. We wait until the light returns in five months. But meanwhile?" She sat down at the small wooden table in the center of the room. "Meanwhile, we plan."