They spent twenty minutes setting up. The fire blankets covered every surface, secured with industrial tape. The rubber mats created a non-conductive layer beneath where Arthur would sit. Finally, Kira pulled out two face shields.

  "Just in case," she said.

  "In case of what?" Arthur asked.

  "In case you explode," Kira said flatly. "I don't know, Arthur. I've never done this before."

  Arthur took a shaky breath. "Right. Okay."

  Stella was checking him with her gaze, her silvery eyes glowing faintly. "I'll monitor your vitals. If your core temperature rises too much, we stop."

  "You should both stay further back," Arthur said, looking at how close they were standing. "If I lose control, if the energy arcs—"

  "I'm staying here," Stella said calmly.

  "Stella—"

  "We protect each other. That includes this." Her eyes met his through the face shield. "I can move back if I need to. But I'm not leaving you to do this alone."

  Kira watched the exchange, her expression hardening slightly. Arthur couldn't quite read it—concern? Suspicion? They still barely knew Stella. Didn't know where she came from, what she really was, why she'd been in that alley.

  "Fine," Arthur muttered. He moved to the center of the rubber mats and sat down cross-legged.

  Kira brought the first battery over, setting it down carefully in front of him. Up close, it was larger than he'd expected. Heavy. The terminals corroded with age, the casing scratched and dented.

  "Whenever you're ready," Kira said, stepping back.

  Arthur stared at the battery. His hands were shaking.

  This was it. No more half-measures, no more accidental drains. This was deliberate. Intentional.

  He reached out slowly, his fingers hovering over the terminals.

  The moment he made contact, energy sang through him.

  It felt like breathing after drowning, like warmth after freezing. The energy flowed into him, through him, filling the hollow spaces in his body. His silver eyes—hidden behind the brown contacts—flared with light.

  The battery casing heated in his hands. The terminals glowed faintly red.

  And then it was empty.

  Arthur gasped, pulling his hands back. The battery was dead—completely drained, the casing buckled from heat.

  "Holy shit," Kira breathed.

  Arthur looked up at them. His vision was sharper. Colors were brighter. The exhaustion that had weighed on him for days had... lessened. Not gone, but lessened.

  "I need another one," Arthur said.

  Kira and Stella exchanged glances.

  "How do you feel?" Stella asked, checking her tablet.

  "Good. Better. I feel..." Arthur couldn't quite describe it. "I need another one."

  Kira brought over the second battery.

  This time, Arthur didn't hesitate. He grabbed the terminals and pulled.

  The energy came faster, easier. His body knew what to do now, knew how to channel the flow, how to direct it where it needed to go. He felt his cells drinking it in, felt his metabolism kick into overdrive processing the pure electrical current.

  The second battery died in under thirty seconds.

  "Again," Arthur said, not looking up.

  Third battery. His body was learning, optimizing, drinking it in.

  Fourth battery. The relief of ending hunger became something else—pleasure. Not just satisfaction, but genuine, physical pleasure flooding his nervous system.

  "More," Arthur breathed.

  Fifth battery.

  By the sixth battery, the changes were visible. Arthur's face was filling out—not dramatically, but noticeably. The grey tinge to his skin faded. The sharp, skeletal angles of his cheekbones softened. His wrists, when he reached for the next battery, looked less like bone wrapped in skin and more like... normal.

  "It's actually working," Kira said quietly.

  Stella was intently focused on her tablet. "His body mass has increased by about four kilograms. Muscle density is normalizing. Metabolic efficiency has improved by thirty-seven percent."

  "He looks human again," Kira murmured.

  This was only the second time since waking up in his apartment without memories that Arthur had felt this good. Strong. Energized. Alive.

  "You know what?" Arthur said as he drained the seventh battery. "I haven't felt this good since—" He paused. Since before the accident he couldn't remember. "Maybe I should have been doing this the whole time."

  He laughed—giddy, strange.

  Kira's expression shifted. She remembered that morning in the alley, after he'd accidentally fried that fuse box. How terrified he'd been. How disgusted with himself.

  And now he was laughing about it.

  Kira and Stella exchanged another glance—longer this time, more concerned.

  Eighth battery. The energy was like music now, a symphony playing through his nervous system. Every nerve ending sang with it. His vision was sharp enough to count individual cracks in the concrete walls. He could sense the electrical current in Kira's neural implants.

  "Just one more," Arthur said, reaching for the ninth battery.

  But as the energy poured in, something felt different. Not relief. Not pleasure.

  Too much.

  Tenth battery.

  "Arthur." Stella's voice was firm now. "Your core temperature is rising. Heart rate at 140 BPM. You should stop."

  "I need—" Arthur started, but his hands were shaking now.

  The eleventh battery was in his grip before he could think. The casing melted, plastic bubbling and reforming. The energy poured into him like water into a desert.

  But this time, when it emptied, the sensation was different. Not hunger. Not need.

  Fullness. Overwhelming, crushing fullness.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Arthur blinked, swaying. "I'm done. I think I'm—"

  His words slurred. The energy high was fading fast, replaced by a heavy, drugged exhaustion. Arthur tried to stand and stumbled. Stella was there instantly, her insulated arms catching him.

  "Easy," she said.

  "I'm okay. Just tired. Really, really tired." Arthur leaned against her, his legs feeling weak.

  Kira was already at his other side. "We need to get you home. Now."

  They packed up quickly—the ruined batteries, the fire blankets, everything shoved back into Kira's duffel. Arthur's legs barely supported him as they half-walked, half-carried him back to the transit station.

  The ride home was a blur. Arthur kept fading in and out, his body processing the massive influx of energy, his mind struggling to stay conscious. He was vaguely aware of Stella's hand on his arm, of Kira's worried voice, of the neon lights flickering past the train windows.

  By the time they reached his building, he could barely walk.

  Stella pressed Arthur's finger on the panel and the door slid away with a silent hiss.

  "Couch," Arthur mumbled, his thoughts syrup-slow as they half-carried him inside.

  They got him to the couch. Arthur collapsed onto it, the pillow cool against his skin. His whole body felt heavy, weighted down, like he might never move again.

  Sleep pulled at him—deep and absolute.

  Then something changed.

  * * *

  A tingling sensation spread from Arthur's chest outward, across his skin. Not painful. Almost... pleasant. He was vaguely aware of something growing from his pores—thin strands, crystalline and fiber-optic, extending outward and wrapping around him in layers.

  "What the hell—" Kira's voice, sharp with alarm.

  "Wait." Stella's voice was calm. "His vitals are stable. Core temperature elevated but controlled. This is a healing process."

  "What is that? What's happening to him?"

  "He's forming a cocoon. He did this before, about a week ago, before he woke up without his memories."

  "A cocoon?" Kira's voice pitched higher. "Damn it, Stella!"

  "The cocoon lasted a few hours, then retracted back into his body. He was fine afterward."

  The strands continued weaving themselves around Arthur, creating a protective shell that pulsed with faint bioluminescent light. Through the growing layers, Arthur could still hear them talking, but their voices seemed far away.

  "What if he loses his memories again?" Kira demanded. "What if he comes out of that thing as something... monstrous?"

  "I don't think—"

  "You don't know." Kira's footsteps moved closer. "We need to get him out of there. Now."

  "Kira, wait—"

  "Get out of my way. I'm getting him out of there."

  "Stop." Stella's voice was firm. "Think about this. Do you know what happens if you open a butterfly's chrysalis early?"

  A pause. "What?"

  "The butterfly dies," Stella said. "Or it emerges deformed, unable to fly. The metamorphosis process requires the full cycle. Interrupting it can be fatal."

  "Arthur's not a butterfly—"

  "But the principle might be the same," Stella interrupted. "His body is doing something we don't understand. There could be defense mechanisms in place. Or opening the cocoon early might kill him outright. We don't know."

  Silence. Arthur tried to speak, to tell them he was fine, but his mouth wouldn't form words. The cocoon was nearly complete now, warm and safe, a space between waking and sleeping.

  "Fuck," Kira said quietly. She sounded close to tears. "This is insane. All of this is insane."

  "I know," Stella said softly. "But he's alive. His heart rate is steady. Brain activity shows deep sleep patterns. Every indicator suggests this is a natural process for him."

  "Natural," Kira repeated bitterly. "There's nothing natural about any of this."

  More silence. Then Kira's voice, harder now: "Fine. But I'm not leaving. If something goes wrong—"

  "Then we'll handle it together," Stella said.

  Arthur felt the cocoon seal completely, encasing him in translucent, glowing layers. His heartbeat slowed. His breathing deepened.

  He was safe.

  He was healing.

  Tomorrow, he would wake up.

  Tomorrow, he would face his sister.

  Tomorrow, everything would change again.

  But for now, Arthur Jones slept.

  * * *

  Kira sat on the edge of the couch, unable to look away from the cocoon. It pulsed softly in the darkness, blue-white light casting strange shadows on the walls. Through the translucent layers, she could see Arthur's shape, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

  Stella had chosen to sit down across from her, back against the wall.

  "How long?" Kira asked finally.

  "Unknown. The first time, it lasted approximately thirty-six hours."

  Thirty-six hours. Kira pulled out her phone—2:47 AM. She should leave. She had work tomorrow. A life outside this insanity.

  She didn't move.

  "You're staying," Stella observed.

  "Someone needs to be here when he wakes up." Kira stood, needing to move. Her legs were stiff from sitting. She needed something to do, something normal. "I'll be back in two minutes."

  She left the apartment, took the elevator down to the building's main floor. The vending machines hummed in the corner of the lobby—one for snacks, one for drinks. She fed it some credits and selected coffee. The machine whirred and dispensed a steaming cardboard cup.

  True to her word, she was back in two minutes, the coffee warming her hands.

  "The first time," Kira said, settling back onto the couch. "When he woke up without memories. What happened?"

  Stella was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was measured. "Arthur told me not to share this with you."

  "I don't care what Arthur said." Kira took a sip of the coffee—bitter, slightly burnt, but grounding. "I just watched him form a cocoon. I think I deserve the truth."

  Another pause. Then: "Ten days ago, I was attacked in an alley in Midspire."

  Kira's hands stilled around the cup.

  Stella's silver eyes were fixed on the cocoon. "Five men. They had weapons—knives, a gun. They wanted my components. Androids are valuable on the black market."

  Kira's stomach turned cold.

  "Arthur intervened," Stella continued. "He saw what was happening and tried to help. The men turned on him. One of them shot him." She paused. "Through the head. Point-blank range."

  "Jesus Christ." Kira's voice came out strangled. Her hands were shaking now, the coffee threatening to spill. "Arthur was shot in the head? Through the—" She couldn't even finish the sentence. She'd seen gunshot victims before, in her line of work. Knew what that kind of wound did to a person. "Nobody survives that. Nobody."

  "He didn't," Stella said simply. "Not really. The person who woke up isn't the same person who died in that alley."

  Kira stared at her, trying to process this. Arthur. Shot in the head. Dead.

  "I could see it happening," Stella said quietly. "The blood loss. The tissue damage. He had minutes at most. I panicked. I didn't know what to do." She looked down at her hands. "So I used my systems to generate an electrical current. Strong enough to knock out the remaining attackers. But the output corrupted some of my memory systems."

  "You knocked them out," Kira said slowly.

  "Yes. They were unconscious but alive when I left with Arthur." Stella met her eyes. "I brought him back to his apartment. I didn't know where else to go. I thought he would die there. I was... preparing to leave, to disappear before anyone found his body and connected me to it."

  Kira felt sick. The image of Arthur bleeding out in that alley, of Stella carrying his dying body through Midspire—

  She set the coffee down on the floor, her hands too unsteady to hold it.

  "But then the cocoon formed," Stella said. "Just like this. The fiber-optic strands emerged from his skin and wrapped around him. I thought it was some kind of death process at first. But his vitals stabilized. Heart rate regulated. Brain activity normalized. And thirty-six hours later, the cocoon retracted and he woke up."

  "Healed," Kira whispered.

  "Completely healed. No bullet wound. No brain damage. No scar." Stella's voice was almost wonder-filled. "But also no memories. Everything before the shooting was gone. He didn't remember his name, his life, anything. He had to piece it all together from his phone and laptop."

  Kira stood abruptly, paced to the window. She needed to move, needed something to do. The bitter smell of the coffee was grounding, but not enough.

  "Why didn't he tell me?" Kira asked, her back to Stella.

  "He was afraid," Stella said. "Afraid of what it meant. Afraid of pulling you deeper into something dangerous. The less you knew, the less you could be implicated if things went wrong."

  "If things went wrong?" Kira's laugh was bitter. She turned from the window. "Stella, things are already wrong. Arthur can drain electrical energy with his bare hands. He's growing a goddamn cocoon. Five men—" She stopped herself. "What happened to them? The men in the alley?"

  Stella's expression didn't change. "I told you. I knocked them unconscious and left with Arthur."

  "And then?"

  "And then I brought Arthur here. I didn't go back to check on them."

  Kira studied her face. There was something Stella wasn't saying. But maybe some truths were too dangerous to speak aloud. Some things, once said, couldn't be taken back.

  "Okay," Kira said finally. "Okay."

  "Kira—"

  "No, I get it." Kira moved back to the couch, picked up her coffee. "Arthur was shot in the head. He survived because of... whatever he is. The cocoon healed him. He lost his memories. And now he's doing it again because he just consumed enough electrical energy to power a mech loader." She looked at Stella. "Is he going to lose his memories again?"

  "I don't know," Stella admitted. "The first time, it was trauma-induced—a response to catastrophic injury. This time it's different. He fed intentionally. His body is processing energy, not repairing massive tissue damage. But I can't predict the outcome."

  "So we just sit here and wait."

  "Yes."

  Kira stared at the cocoon. Through the translucent layers, Arthur looked peaceful. Almost serene. Not like someone who'd been shot in the head ten days ago.

  She took another sip of the cooling coffee.

  "He saved your life," Kira said quietly. "In that alley. He saw you being attacked and he tried to help, even though he didn't know you. Even though it got him killed."

  "Yes."

  "And now you're protecting him."

  "Yes."

  Kira nodded slowly. That, at least, she could understand. Loyalty. Debt. Whatever you wanted to call it. Arthur had bled for Stella, had died for her. And now she was returning the favor.

  "I'm staying," Kira said.

  "I know."

  They sat in silence, watching the cocoon pulse. Watching Arthur sleep. Watching something neither of them fully understood reshape itself in the darkness.

  Kira didn't know if the old Arthur had been like this—the kind of person who'd die for a stranger. They hadn't been close before his accident. But this Arthur, the one without memories, seemed drawn to helping people even when it destroyed him.

  Maybe that's what had gotten him into this mess.

  Or maybe it's what made him worth saving.

  Outside, Corereach hummed on, indifferent to the transformation happening in a small apartment in Midspire.

  Neon signs flickered through the window—cyan, magenta, amber—painting shifting patterns across the walls.

  And together, they waited.

  [End of Chapter Six]