Children of the Virus

33: Torn Desires

The truck's tires ground against the rough terrain, spitting up small stones as Toshiro brought the hulking beast to a stop. He jumped down from the cabin, clutching a makeshift container in his right hand. His heart raced with anticipation; the light mix was so close now, the key to repairing what he had lost.

Toshiro crept towards the tanker's hose, adrenaline coursing through him as he muttered, "easy does it," under his breath. His eyes narrowed in focus. With a trembling hand, he quickly attached the container to the nozzle, but suddenly, whoosh—it burst open, unleashing the surge of a raging river that drenched him in its blinding radiance.

"Damn it!" His furious shout echoed through the peaceful air as he wrestled with the stubborn nozzle, finally reducing the flow to a trickle. Gasping for breath, he inspected what little he had captured: a minuscule orb of pulsating light mix, no larger than a blueberry, nestled among the spilled excess.

"Got you," he whispered, a fierce smile tugging at his lips. He stowed the precious cargo away, then leapt back into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud. As the engine roared to life, Toshiro set off once more, his determination clear in the way he steered towards the rendezvous point where Karl and Damian awaited.

***

Toshiro expertly maneuvered the truck in reverse, his hands steady on the controls. The warehouse loomed ahead, abandoned and quiet except for the two figures waiting by the loading dock. Toshiro immediately recognized Karl's imposing form, but it was Damian who drew his attention, housed within a computer frame that rivaled Hugh's.

"Nice timing," Karl's gruff voice welcomed Toshiro as he descended from the cabin.

"Thanks, I—" Toshiro began but was swiftly interrupted as Damian interjected with a quizzical tone.

"You're wearing my light mix on your clothes. Explain yourself."

Caught off guard, Toshiro hesitated for a moment before answering. "I...needed some of it. To fix my Luna token."

"Your Luna token, hmm?" Damian's voice held a note of amusement. "Your reborn wife, I take it? The very essence of your—what was it again? Ah, yes—soulmate."

"Exactly," Toshiro replied, locking eyes with the camera lens that served as Damian's window to the world. "That token, my wife, means everything to me."

"Oh, Toshiro, you poor sentimental human." Damian's laughter was synthetic, yet warm. "Fine, you may keep what you've salvaged. But I expect something in return...perhaps, a chance to meet this Luna of yours. Deal?"

"Deal," Toshiro agreed, relief washing over him like a gentle wave. Damian's eccentricity was as unpredictable as ever, but his generosity wasn't lost on Toshiro. With a nod to Karl, he added, "Let's get this operation moving."

"Indeed," Damian concurred, his tone shifting to one of business. "Let us proceed with our plans."

Standing on the loading dock, Damian's voice rang out, cold and robotic. Yet an undercurrent of anticipation filled his tone. "Initiating transfer sequence," he declared, his words punctuated by the low hum of machinery interfacing with the delicate light mix. "This is truly thrilling," he exclaimed.

"What can I do to help?" Toshiro asked.

"Clap your hands! Applaud my imminent transcendence."

Toshiro's eyes locked onto the tank truck as it glowed from within, the light mix swirling and coalescing into a crystalline structure that exuded an otherworldly energy. He knew what was happening; they were on the cusp of something monumental—something forbidden by Zo.