Chapter Text
The episode opens with a brief flashback to Episode 4. The camera pans across a gas station where Nick stands outside, smoking. Inside, four young operatives sit in a small private room while Daniel Kirk finishes briefing them on their next assignment.
Kennel leaves first, as she has a solo mission. Aspen's face carries an unreadable expression as his eyes follow her movement. He clutches a paper coffee cup, the liquid inside slowly freezing. Warren and Claire exit next, and Mr. Kirk holds the door open, motioning for Aspen to follow. Aspen sets the now-solid cup of coffee on the table and stands to leave. He pauses and looks back at Mr. Kirk.
“Are you sure about this?” Aspen asks, his voice low and cautious. “We both remember what happened last ti—” Mr. Kirk cuts him off.
“You’ve become too unpredictable on your own,” he says, stern but not unkind. Aspen clenches his jaw, holding Mr. Kirk’s gaze. Then he exhales sharply.
“Your loss,” he says, brushing off the conversation as if it meant nothing. Then, Aspen turns away to walk off. Daniel turns off the light and closes the door to the little room. The screen turns black as soon as the door closes.
-
A wide, bird's-eye view shows a sun-drenched landscape. Yellowing plants hint at a long, dry summer. The intro to an indie song begins as the camera pans across a familiar rocky, abandoned road. A weathered sign shows the mileage to the nearby abandoned mines. In the distance, a black, nondescript car approaches. As it passes the camera, the full song kicks in. The CAIN logo appears, followed by the episode title. The car leaves a trail of dust as the scene transitions.
We follow the car from the side, framing the driver’s seat window perfectly. The window is open and it shows Nick with a cigarette casually burning between his lips, one hand on the steering wheel, and his other arm resting on the edge of the open window. His hair blows in the wind, though some strands stick to his forehead. His dress shirt has the top buttons open, and his collar is slightly yellowed with sweat. Beside him sits a girl in a nun's habit, reading a familiar-looking case file. She chews on a pencil, frowning slightly in annoyance as she jots down notes.
The next shot zooms in on her face, an eye twitching in irritation. The music lowers as if coming from the car radio, making room for the muffled sound of laughter and arguing from the back seat. Her expression sours. She turns around sharply.
“Can you guys just shut up for five minutes?!” she snaps as she turns toward the back of the car.
Three teens freeze mid-squabble. On the right is a younger Kennel, smirking and holding a bag of sweet-and-sour gummies high above her head. Her tie is loose, her suit jacket missing. On the left is a younger Aspen, bundled in a scarf despite the heat, trying to reach across the seat. He’s squashing a smiling, ginger-haired boy with blue eyes between them, trying to reach for the candy.
“Kennel is being an ass!” Aspen says in protest, wrestling with his seatbelt as he continues to struggle to reach further.
“I’m not! Your arms are just too short, Snowman,” Kennel retorts, moving the bag further out of reach, clearly antagonizing him further.
“Dickhead!”
“Shit for brains.”
“How is that middle finger of yours doing?” Aspen asks as he flips her off. Kennel looks at her missing finger. There is a beat of silence, then chaos erupts again. The boy in the middle cries out for help.
“Eve!” he whines.
“Cut it out! Do you guys want to succeed on this mission or not? Then let me read!” Eve snaps again.
The teens slump back into their seats. The ginger-haired boy gasps for air, finally freed from the crush. The camera lingers on him. His short, curly hair clings to his sweaty face. A gold earring gently dangles from one ear. He shoots Aspen a sly grin and, with a quick swipe, snatches the bag of gummies from Kennel. She shouts in protest, while he bursts out laughing.
The pencil in the girl's hand snaps in two, and the volume of laughter fades to make room for more ambient music. The camera stays on the boy as he munches on the gummies. A new, unfamiliar voice takes over in a voiceover; it’s the voice of the boy:
“It was summer when we went on that mission. I remember the heat, how we shed our jackets, rolled up our sleeves. Ties were forgotten, top buttons undone. The air was thick with warmth when we left the facility.”
-
The next scene shows the redhead closing the trunk of the now-parked car, an absurdly decorated hunting rifle slung over his back. Nick leans against the car, fist-bumping him as he passes. The camera follows him as he joins the rest of the squad. Like the others, he’s ditched his jacket and tie, sleeves rolled up. His exposed forearms are slightly scarred from previous missions.
Cut to Aspen, shivering briefly before pulling his scarf tighter. The redhead walks over and places a hand on his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow, and Aspen offers a weak smile and a wave: Don’t worry about it. He rests his bat lazily on his shoulder.
“Aspen had been running cold all day,” the voiceover says, cut off by live dialogue.
“The SIN manifested post-mortem as a HOUND,” Eve says while she looks over her sword before sheathing it. They are standing in a grassy area, surrounded by lush trees. There is a crunching sound as they walk along the gravel path. The camera is focused in front of them as they walk.
“The victim was a male in his early twenties. Middle-class background, but somehow managed to get into a private university. He was in his sophomore year,” she continues. The camera turns, showing their backs as they now stand in front of a gated, fancy-looking villa neighboring a lake.
“He was on a summer trip with his uni friends. The house was the summer home of one of the students. They all came from rich backgrounds.” She pauses for a moment as she studies the lock of the iron gate. “He drowned in the lake, though nobody reported his death…”
She makes a hand motion. The redhead steps forward and rolls his eyes, touching the lock. His eyes flash red. The lock seems to turn into liquid and drops to the ground with a splash. The girl hums approvingly and opens the gate.
The next shot is from the inside of the house. They open the door to the villa, and the squad is framed by the door as they step in.
“Three days later. Everyone in the home was presumably slaughtered. Though none of the bodies have been found. Only after the families began to suspect the lack of contact, were the authorities called.”
She crosses her arms, indicating that she is done talking.
Kennel stops chewing on her gummy. Her expression changes slightly before swallowing.
“Wait. That's it?” Kennel asks. Eve shrugs.
“That’s what Mister Kirk gave us. You would have known if you paid attention during the briefing,” she says in a passive-aggressive voice, but reaches for the bag of gummies and pops one in their mouth.
The squad stands in silence as they survey the opulent foyer: double wooden doors with intricate carvings, polished floors, a Persian rug, a small entry table with perfume bottles and trinkets, and a mirror reflecting chandelier light. The house radiates wealth, the old money kind.
“Well, I guess we have to figure out why the SIN manifested,” the boy says. He grabs Aspen's wrist and drags him up the stairs.
“Team Frosty and Firefly, take the top floor!” he shouts.
Eve opens her mouth in protest, but the duo is out of sight before she can mutter a word.
“Idiots. Why do they insist on their childish codenames anyway?” she murmurs.
She gives Kennel a glance, who shrugs.
“You tell me, Sister,” Kennel answers with her mouth full. Eve groans loudly and walks off toward the living room.
-
The two of them giggle as they burst up the stairs, their feet pounding against the wood like a stampede. Aspen nearly trips when his friend yanks him forward on the last step. The redhead loses his footing entirely, tumbling to the floor and dragging Aspen down with him. The camera captures them from above as they land in a tangled heap. They groan in unison- then burst out laughing.
“Holy shit! I thought we would never shake her!” The boy wheezes, clearly referring to Eve. Aspen snorts in agreement, gets up, and dusts off his uniform. He then offers a hand to help his friend up. He grabs it but flinches at the touch.
“Man, you’re already this cold?” he asks, pulling back instinctively. Aspen quickly withdraws his hand like he’s been caught stealing and looks away.
“I’m fine, Jackie,” Aspen says. His eyes drift back to his friend, but judging by the look on his face, Jackie doesn’t believe him. He quickly looks away again. He doesn’t seem to push the issue for now.
“The lack of information. The short recovery time between missions… It all seemed incredibly rushed…” The voiceover plays once again.
“Hold on,” Jackie says as he opens the door to one of the rooms and peeks inside. Aspen follows. It’s a bedroom, which looks relatively undisturbed. The blanket on the bed has been thrown aside, as if someone got up from the bed and hasn’t bothered with making it. On the bedside table was a poetry book in Latin. There is a small desk with a lamp. Some notes, which look like some extracurricular homework. The camera follows Aspen as he wanders over, idly flipping through the papers. He starts to tune out, until a bill catches his eye. Then another. And another.
Overdue rent. Car repairs. A restaurant bill with a ridiculous total. A dry cleaning receipt for a suit.
Aspen hears some rummaging behind him and turns around to see his friend going through a closet. There are a few shirts hanging on clothing hangers. Jackie disregards them and decides to rummage through the duffel bag that sat in front of the closet instead.
“Aha!” He exclaims triumphantly as he pulls out a sweater and tosses it to Aspen. Aspen sighs but pulls it over his head anyway. He looks down at the stylized print, an image of a university building with the name proudly displayed beneath it, and frowns.
“I am not wearing some dead dude's clothes, am I?” Aspen asks, but doesn’t bother taking it off. Instead, he tightens the scarf and puts his hands in his pockets. Jackie gives him a strange smile, absentmindedly toying with his golden earring.
“What?” Aspen asks.
“Nothing… Just nice seeing you out of a CAIN uniform.” Jackie replies, a trace of something wistful in his voice. There’s nostalgia in his eyes, a longing for a memory that never existed. A glimpse of what could have been. Aspen doesn’t answer him, though he feels his ears redden. Jackie glances toward the window. The light is golden. The outside world looks so far away.
“We could go, you know. Leave. Somewhere warm.” Jackie says after a moment of silence.
Aspen tenses. “Jackie…” He takes a step closer to his companion.
“Somewhere we can watch the fireflies,” Jackie says, softer now.
“Quiet! What if Eve hears?” Aspen hisses. He grabs Jackie by the shoulders. Jackie scoffs.
“You really think she can stop us? She doesn’t even have a blasphemy.” Jackie keeps wearing that stupid smile.
“What about Kennel?” Aspen asks, desperate now. He tries to convince his friend, tries to convince him that this is a bad idea.
“You think she will stop us?” And Aspen knew that she wouldn’t… probably. Aspen lets go as if Jackie’s burned him. He takes a step back. Then another.
He doesn’t say anything.
The silence stretches. Jackie’s smile falters, just for a second.
Aspen finally speaks, quietly, jaw clenching and unclenching, a nervous habit.
“You shouldn’t joke about such things… C’mon, we should continue.” However, Aspen's gaze is set on the window. As if he can already see them running through the grassy fields, in the blazing sun. Aspen blinks, then steps aside. He gestures for Jackie to go first. He always does. Jackie’s smile returns. Same smile he wore in the car, moments before he snatched the bag with gummies from Kennel. The smile he wears when he knows he has won.
“It may have seemed foolish, but when you are like us, you need something to dream about. Even if it’s just fireflies.”
-
The duo enters the hallway again, Jackie in front. He slowly makes his way through the hallway and notices a door that has been left slightly ajar. He draws his surface weapon, a grotesquely oversized knife that borders on a short sword. Bold orange letters are painted across the blade: FIREFLY, and a clutter of tacky phone charms dangle from the hilt, jingling with every movement. Aspen trails a few steps behind, lazily resting his baseball bat, FROSTY, spelled in frosted blue lettering, casually on his shoulder. It matches. Regrettably. Jackie gently nudges the door open with caution.
“Fuck,” Aspen mutters under his breath as he looks over his friend's shoulder and scrunches up his nose in disgust. The room reeks of iron and warmth; it has a sickly-sweet undertone. The room before them looks absolutely trashed. Blood has been sprayed across the room, though it has since dried and taken on a coppery hue. There is no body in sight.
They sweep through the rest of the top floor. The camera cuts with each door opened: more rooms, more blood. Curtains ripped down, chairs overturned, pages torn. One bathroom is the worst of all, its shower coated in blood.
“I guess they weren’t really friends,” Jackie says, gazing down at the marble tiles. Aspen stands next to him, eyes fixed on a bloody handprint smeared across the sink. His gut twists, and his face is pale. He reaches out, hovering just above it. The fingers are smaller than his, delicate, a girl’s, maybe.
Then, a sound.
The showerhead rattles. The faucet groans. Dark, murky water starts to spill from them. It smells foul, like death and still-standing water. The pipes tremble and then burst. Water leaks from the ceiling, the walls, seeping in fast. The door slams shut behind them. In moments, water is lapping at their ankles.
Aspen lets out a shout as he feels something latch onto his leg. Clawed fingers have wrapped around his leg. The fingers are bony, with a few too many joints. Two glowing yellow eyes breach the surface.
Then- yanks.
Aspen crashes to the floor with a splash. The SIN lunges, pinning him. Its face hovers just above his, skin stretched tight over sharp bones, teeth razor-sharp. Hair drips black and stringy, blending into the foul water. It shoves Aspen’s head under. Water roars in his ears. Aspen thrashes, kicking, clawing, sputtering.
“Aspen!” Jackie yells. His blue eyes flash red, just for a second, as he strikes. The SIN lets out an unearthly screech. One of its hands is severed, black blood splashing across the tiles. The hand liquefies on contact. It recoils, and Aspen gasps, coughing violently.
“Sink,” Aspen sputters. “Get on the-” He coughs again.
Jackie doesn’t hesitate. He hauls Aspen up, and together they scramble onto the bathroom counter before the SIN can recover. The SIN hisses, clutching the stump where its hand used to be. It turns its head- snaps- eyes locking onto Jackie.
“Oh shit, oh shit. Please hurry up,” Jackie begs.
“I’m trying,” Aspen grits through his teeth, interrupted by coughs. Aspen slams his palms down on the soaked sink- SMACK. Water splashes, and the SIN launches itself at Jackie. Strings of saliva hang from its sharp teeth, its breath foul. The temperature drops in an instant, ice forming around Aspen's hands. It crawls up the walls, along the wet ceiling. Freezing the pipes and stopping more water from entering the room. The water on the floor turns rock solid in an instant, freezing the creature in place. Its claws freeze mid-swipe, inches from Jackie’s face.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jackie swears as he scrambles as far away from the SIN, pressing himself against the mirror. He hisses at the cold surface. The creature twitches. Reaches. Screeches-
-and then dissolves into a splash of black water.
The duo looks at each other with wide eyes. Silence. Just their heavy breathing and the occasional cough. Aspen, soaked and trembling, sits hunched on the counter. His white hair hangs wet in his face, streaked grey by the filthy water, his clothes ruined.
“You look like a wet cat,” Jackie says.
“No thanks to you!” Aspen counters.
“Fine. Next time, I’ll let you drown,” Jackie says, deadpan. He snorts. Aspen groans but then cracks a smile. They both burst out laughing, breaths ragged, laughter high-pitched from leftover adrenaline. Jackie's laugh is contagious. They hop off the counter, Jackie almost slips on the ice, but Aspen catches him by the arm. The camera switches to the outside of the bathroom. The door to the bathroom bursts open. The boys stumble out, soaked, rattled, but alive.
Aspen looks behind him at the black frozen water. He pulls a disgusting face, clenching his jaw to prevent his teeth from chattering.
“Let’s join the others,” Aspen says. Jackie looks at him, concern in his eyes, mouth parting to speak-then-
A loud scream. It sounds agonizing.
“Eve!” The boys both say in unison.
And then, they run.