( 10 Minutes Before Brakkas attack)
He didn't know where he was going—he just ran.
Through empty alleyways, past broken walls and flickering streetlamps.
The kind of run where your legs don't ask permission from your brain.
Where your heart just needs to get away from the truth.
From Marla's voice. From what it said.
That for five whole years… he was still just a project.
His breath tore from his lungs in choppy gasps.
"Hhhaaah… hhHHhh… Haaah… HHHHhh—"
He stumbled to a stop near a fractured curb.
Steam curled off the ground where the rain hit still-burning pavement.
Tank hunched over, hands on his knees, shaking.
Then slowly, he looked up at the sky.
Gray.
No stars.
Just endless clouds choking the heavens.
Drops of rain tapped his cheeks. Light at first—then harder.
A downpour.
Tank didn't move.
He let it hit him.
Let the water slide down his face like it could rinse out everything inside.
His fists clenched.
He wanted to scream.
Or maybe collapse.
Maybe both.
The truth stung worse than any injury.
Worse than any fight.
He was never free.
He had never been free.
(Five Years Ago – The in Glassenbelt)
It was an ordinary evening at the house.
Jazz sat on the living room floor, sorting pieces of a puzzle no one had asked him to do.
Lisa was bouncing a ball against the wall, catching it on the third try every time.
And Tank sat, quiet but fidgety, staring out the window.
Then he stood.
"Hey, Jazz," Tank said flatly. "Wanna play kickball with me and Lisa?"
Jazz didn't even look up.
"Nah. I'm good."
"Don't be lame," Lisa said, rolling her eyes.
"I'm not lame, I just don't feel like it," Jazz muttered.
Marla stepped in from the hallway, dragging a blanket and a cigarette between her fingers. Her hair was in a bun, but barely. She looked like she hadn't slept, but still knew everything happening in the room.
"Jazz," she said.
He stiffened.
"You're goin'," she said. "You need to learn how to be a damn kid. You got it?"
Jazz opened his mouth to argue.
Didn't even get a full word out.
Marla just looked at him. That look that cracked through steel.
"…Alright," he muttered.
Tank lit up.
"Let's go!"
He grabbed the ball and headed to the door.
The second he opened it—
"Plop. Plop. Plop… Tchk… TchkTchkTchk—"
The rain poured. Not a drizzle. Not a shower.
A wall of rain.
It hit the streets like it was trying to drown the whole damn world.
Tank froze in the doorway.
One hand on the knob, the other clutching the ball.
Jazz stepped up behind him, eyes wide.
Neither of them moved.
Lisa, confused, tilted her head. "…Are you guys okay?"
"You act like you just saw a ghost," she added.
Marla smirked, stepping forward behind them.
Smoke curled from her lips. Her voice was calm, but sharp as cut glass.
"Oh, don't tell me you two are scared of rain."
"No!" Tank said quickly. Then quieter, "It's just…"
He stared at the water hitting the ground.
His knuckles were white around the ball.
Jazz didn't speak. He just looked… ashamed.
Marla exhaled a slow stream of smoke and crouched beside them.
She saw the stiffness in their shoulders.
The clamped jaws.
The fear they didn't want to admit.
And then she said:
"Rain is the freest thing on Earth."
The boys blinked, confused.
"What?"
Tank asked, voice small.
"Think about it,"
Marla said, eyes locked on the storm. "It doesn't ask permission to fall. Doesn't care where it lands—dirt, flowers, rooftops, skin. It just is."
She stepped forward—barefoot—into the waterlogged porch.
"People try to control everything. Lock it down. Box it up. But you can't chain the sky. You can't arrest a storm. You can't tell the rain to behave."
She turned to look at them. Her eyes weren't angry. They were… burning.
"But you let your fear do that to you. Let it chain you."
Jazz swallowed hard. Tank's hands shook.
"I don't want you to be fearless," she said. "But I'll be damned if I let either of you be prisoners in your own heads."
Lisa stepped into the rain first. Laughed. Twirled in it. Let it soak her hair, her arms, her shoes.
Then Jazz stepped out—hesitant at first. Then running. Free.
And still… Tank stayed.
He stood at the edge of the door like it was a cliff.
His fingers curled tighter around the doorknob.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I want to… I just… my body won't move."
Marla Shouted His name and said heavy words:
"It's okay to be scared. You're human. But don't you ever let fear own you. You hear me?"
Tank's breath caught in his throat.
Then she said the words that broke him open:
"You're my kid. And I believe in you."
Tank's eyes went wide. No one had ever said that to him.
Not like that. Not with their whole chest.
Something cracked inside.
He took a long breath in—like pulling fire into his lungs—and then ran.
Into the rain.
Into the cold.
Into the freedom.
His feet splashed through puddles, every step louder than thunder. Lisa screamed his name in joy.
Jazz laughed. Marla smiled that crooked, tired, proud smile.
And for the first time in his life…
Tank felt unshackled.