Bulge kept talking, because someone had to.
"It's beautiful. Terrifying. I think it just looked at me."
Silence.
The hangar lights above them glowed a little dimmer now. The atmosphere shifted, heavier, like they were standing on the edge of a cliff and the wind was thinking about shoving them off.
"I haven't even stepped on board and I already feel like this ship knows all my secrets," Bulge said.
He glanced sideways. "You're not going to make me go in there alone, are you?"
Freeze didn't respond. Of course.
Instead, he slowly, very slowly, reached into his coat.
Bulge tensed.
Freeze pulled out a slim black card.
Bulge took it with both hands, careful like it was a tiny bomb.
EFIC Internal Use Only
Agent: Bulge
Status: Selected
Assigned: Dr. Freeze
His name was on it.
No mistakes.
"You really picked me," Bulge said, voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't a test? Or a prank? Or a weird dream where I wake up in a food court?"
Freeze turned back to the ship. Said nothing. Did nothing.
But he didn't leave.
They stood like that for a long moment. Just two figures. One bursting with questions. The other made of silence.
Staring at a ship that didn't hum, didn't blink, it simply waited.
And somewhere in that quiet space between boy and machine and myth…
Bulge smiled.
"Okay," he said. "I'm in."
The air inside EFIC's Docking District was strangely still. Despite being one of the busiest areas of the entire Eternity Federation Investigation Centre, it felt like the calm eye of a mechanical hurricane. Distant sounds of ships charging, cables clicking into place, robots gliding over data tracks , all of it hummed far below the surface of the hangar's quiet skin.
Bulge stood like a child outside a candy vault.
He was still facing the ship. The ship. Towering, gleaming, sharp as a sword forged out of silence. Its hull was polished so perfectly that it reflected the overhead orbit lights like stars trapped in metal. Silver energy pulsed softly along its vertebrae-like spine, and its engines looked like they could swallow comets whole.
Bulge's heart pounded with excitement. "I can't believe it," he whispered. "I'm going to fly in that?"
A dream.
A real one.
The kind that makes your legs shaky and your mouth dry.
Behind him, Freeze remained unmoved. A statue in a trench coat.
Bulge turned to him, eyes wide. "This is the best day of my life."
Freeze didn't even blink. Just stood there, visor down, arms behind his back like he was listening to an opera only he could hear.
Bulge turned back to the majestic ship.
"What's her name? Doomscar? Shadowtalon? You probably don't even name your ships. You just glare at them until they fly, right?"
Still no reply.
Bulge chuckled nervously. "Right. Of course. You're all mystery and coolness. Got it."
He took one daring step toward the ship, already imagining the ramp hissing open, the engines lighting up, the interior filled with glowing panels, a chair that would mold to his spine and say, 'Welcome, Agent Bulge.'
He imagined himself in the co-pilot seat, tapping buttons with purpose, yelling things like "Warp now!" and "Lock onto the suspect's ion trail!"
He was so deep in his fantasy that he almost didn't notice Freeze… walking away.
"What...?"
Bulge blinked. "Uh… Freeze? Freeze? Where are you? Hey! The ship is this way!"
Freeze didn't look back.
He just kept walking with those long, deliberate steps that somehow made him look like he was gliding.
Bulge hesitated. Looked at the ship one more time.
Then ran after him.
They crossed through Hangar Corridor Delta, a shadowy tunnel lined with massive ventilation columns. Pipes hissed like dragons exhaling. The lighting here wasn't as dramatic as the main floor, it flickered, buzzed, and left pockets of mystery between beams.
"This… doesn't feel like the luxury route," Bulge muttered, ducking under a loose cable. "You sure we're not going to a supply closet?"
Freeze, as always, remained silent.
They emerged into Sub-Hangar 17-B, a much smaller dock hidden behind thick blast doors. It looked more like a maintenance garage than a launch bay.
The walls were unevenly patched with metal plates. A large stain , possibly oil, possibly soup, stretched across the floor. A vending machine in the corner blinked sadly: Out of Order since Cycle 4382.
And in the middle of it all… sat Whisperwind.
Bulge stopped walking.
He stared.
Then he whispered, "What is that?"
There was a old half dead spaceship lying on the ground.....