When 11 finds Abetah sitting on the steps outside the bakery, she knows that all her rehearsed words of comfort aren’t going to do shit.

But she doesn't have time to turn back. The old woman sees her and totters down the stairs, almost stumbling into her arms.

“Where have you been?” Abetah asks. “Are you hurt?”

Under the moonlit sky, the old woman’s eyes are white with terror.

11 swallows, feeling like she’s choking down a mouthful of razor blades.

“S-she… Yue’li…”

All her words, everything she had prepared to say, dies away.

"Yue'li is... Yue'li is..."

Abetah pulls back. “What happened to Yue’ling? Why is she not with you?”

“I’m... I'm going to find her,” 11 finally manages. “Trust me, Abetah. Please. I will find her.”

“Is she lost?” Abetah asks. Her voice is a thin whisper, nearly lost in the nightly wind. “Did she lose her way?”

“No,” 11 says. She feels tears in her eyes. "Someone took her, Abetah."

Comprehension cracks across the old woman's face. “Oh, dear goddesses.” Her grasp on 11 slackens as she begins to slide to the ground.

11 hurries to reassure Abetah, trying to hold onto the old woman without hurting her.

"I'll find her," she says. “If I have to turn this world upside down, I'll find her. I promise.”

Abetah is no longer capable of answering, so 11 carries her back into the bakery, up the stairs, and into bed. Then, kneeling beside the old woman, she repeats her promise before setting back out into the night.

11 searches through the night. But even with radar and an array of scanners, she cannot find any household or hideaway that a sorceress might dwell in.

In fact, she discovers the secret hideout of the Thieves’ Covenant before she gets any clues on Hephoene.

Even more frustrating is their unwillingness to help.

After a few tense exchanges with the leader of the Covenant, it becomes quickly clear to both sides that neither has much to offer the other. 11 refuses to steal or kill, so the Covenant refuses to relinquish any information.

11 has no choice but to carry on the search alone.

The night air is thick and heavy with moisture. 11 continues to scour the empty streets, scanning down alleyways and across rooftops. She checks in on the ruins of the Knights’ headquarters, pokes her head down sewage pipes, but despite her efforts she still finds nothing.

The defeat is crushing.

Exhausted from failure and not knowing what else to do, 11 staggers through the streets. She contemplates helping the Covenant, but doing so not only goes against protocol, it betrays her own values.

Does any of that matter, though?

11 finds her feet moving in a different direction, almost as if they have thoughts of their own. She starts heading towards the northern sector.

If I have to choose between someone else's life and Yue'li's.... which is the right choice?

The sky is still dark but daylight is only a few hours away. 11 can hear sounds of early birds chirping away. The river bubbles along the path.

She passes by the rows of burnt-out buildings. Some have begun the rebuilding process.

After a little while, 11 starts to hear something else.

Tapping, like footsteps, softly echoing behind her.

She stops and turns.

The hooded figure following her also stops.

“You don’t need to tail me,” 11 says. “I was just on my way to see you guys.”

The figure doesn’t say anything. 11 can see from the body shape that he is male, about twenty. But she can discern little else beneath that heavy cloak.

She tells him, “I accept the job. Tell me what I need to steal and I’ll get it for you. But you must promise me you’ll tell me the location of the sorceress.”

The figure remains quiet. 11 starts to get frustrated.

“Stop playing cool. I can take out a hit if that’s what you want. I’ll do it all, as long as you tell me what I need to know.”

The winds shift. Ripples break across the river.

11's nose wrinkles at the smell. It's old, like cracking open a yellowed book.

“You’ve integrated quite well, haven’t you?”

The figure’s words cut into 11's core, shocking her with cold.

I've heard this voice before.

It’s as if she’s listening to an echo of her own voice, only deeper and filled with sarcastic menace.

She opens her mouth but no sound comes out.

“What insanity,” says the figure with a disgusted smile. “A God Gier playing at life.”

11 takes a step back. She goes for the steel dagger at her belt. “Take off that cloak,” she says. “Do it now or I’ll cut you down.”

"You don't get to order me," says the figure. When he reaches up, his movements are slow and deliberate. His arms and hands are bound in black bandages, and when he pulls back the hood, so is his face.

11 cannot make out the man's features, but every chip inside her is screaming.

She knows. She just doesn’t believe.

"You’re still alive," she says. "How is that possible?"

The figure stands with his arms held on either side of him. It is a disarming gesture, but that’s just what it looks like.

He says, “You don’t know who I am.”

Shaking her head 11 says, "You’re God Geir Fi-”

The words do not finish leaving her lips because the man is pressing his finger against them.

11 leaps back, pulling out her dagger.

How did he close the distance so quickly?!

She backs into something hard, metallic. An egg-shaped drone is hovering behind her, its smooth body silvery in the moonlight.

She doesn’t get away in time.

A blast of electricity bounces from the drone into 11, surging through her veins with paralyzing pain.

11 stumbles away, her nerves aflame, right into the man. Strong hands grip her shoulders, shoving her sideways into the railing. 11 tries to retaliate. She strikes with her dagger but the boy catches her wrist, raising them above her head.

11 hears the drone screech as another electric shock crushes through her fingers, forcing her to drop the dagger.

Gasping, she feels her legs go weak. Her sensors blare with jumbled messages as her body fights to realign itself.

The man holds her up by her wrists. He leans close, pushing right up against 11 so she can’t see anything but his eyes.

They are blue. Just like hers.

“No names,” he says. “Mommy is listening.”

Fear fills 11’s mind as familiarity burns into consciousness.

He’s done this to her before. But not here. Not exactly like this.

11’s core goes into overdrive. She knees the man in the stomach then reaches behind her and tears out a section of the railing. She swings, forcing the man back.

11 presses the attack, this time turning around with her swing to catch the drone behind her. Sparks fly as the metal beam cracks against the side of the drone, denting its seamless form. The drone spirals away, crashing into the riverbank before spinning into the waters below.

The man's rage shows through his mask of bandages.

“You bitch!” he cries, fists balling as he charges at her. “How dare you do that!” He lashes out at her but instead of a fist, more drones burst out from the windows behind him. They descend from the sky like tiny silver planets, glowing with lightning.

11 throws the broken railing at the first drone, then turns and runs.

Wind howls in 11’s ears. She pumps her legs hard, sprinting through alleyways and around tight corners. Her chest is fluttering, compressing, fear coursing through her like jet fuel.

What is she afraid of? Death? Dismemberment? No. It is not any of that.

It is him. And what he did to her.

Not knowing if the man or his drones are following, 11 turns down a narrow alleyway, hoping she can hide in one of the dark buildings. The walls echo her panicked breathing. Her footsteps ring against the stone.

At the end of the alleyway, a spherical shadow moves in front of the light.

11 plants her feet down, but the gravel is too loose and she slides right into the drone.

“You can run,” says the man as he leaps down from the drone, “but you can’t hide!”

He grabs onto her cloak, tearing it.

11 chooses to fight. She headbutts him. The man doesn't flinch. 11 jumps up onto his face and then thrusting with her wings, crushes him to the ground.

She feels the man's skull cave inward. She jumps back, alarmed.

"What the hell?"

The man picks himself up. Pieces of his face crack away through the bandages, revealing an undulating mass of machinery.

11's breath stops.

The man touches his face, then screams and covers it with his hands.

"You asshole!" he cries, cowering from her. "You broke my beautiful face!"

The air fills with an angry humming as drones descend on the alleyway. They surround 11, blocking off her exits.

11 dives but there is nowhere to run.

Shockwaves course through her bones. Thunder fills her ears.

She collapses.

When 11 regains her senses, she's lying on her stomach with the man standing over her. He's wrapped up in bandages again, hiding away his grotesque features.

“Now, do you understand?” he says. “You don’t stand a chance against me. Scout-types trump over Reapers.”

11 takes a minute to get her voice box working again. "Looks like something trumped all over your face. What was it, a bear?"

The man kicks her. "Watch it, or I'll make sure you end up the same way." He leans down and grabs a handful of 11's hair. "Seems like being a smartass is something not even death can cure."

Heat travels up 11’s body, gathering into her fists. “What the hell happened to you? We're not supposed to age.”

“Trade secret,” says the man, spilling a dagger below 11’s throat. “If I told you, I'd have to kill you.”

11 snarls at him. Pain blooms along her scalp, sharpening her senses. She studies the man, scanning through his bandages.

"Ah-ah."

The man slams 11 facedown into the ground, smothering her into the gravel. "No peeking." He lifts her up again, his eyes seeming to shine as they drink in her pain.

"You're..." 11 says. "A monster."

The man's expression darkens. "Don't make me break you before we've even started," he says, then pulls 11 close to whisper in her ear, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

11 closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to remember. She isn't ready to face the past she willingly forgot.

She says, "I’m not interested in anything you’re selling."

“And if the product is truth?”

“My truth has two horns and a tail.” 11 looks into the man's eyes. “Until I find her again, I’m not interested in anything to do with the Protocol. Or the Gate. Or you.” She sucks in a breath and reaches for his face. But the man steps back and crushes her hand with his boot.

“You haven't changed a bit,” he snarls, grinding down on 11’s fingers. “After all that's happened, you still can't differentiate between feelings and logic.”

“Fuck,” 11 grunts, “you.”

The boot comes down hard. “Don’t you talk to me like that!” the man says, stomping and kicking her. “You of all people do not deserve to curse me!”

“Stop that, Ned.”

The man stops. 11 looks up to see him turning his head to talk to someone behind him.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for a royal dinner somewhere?” he asks.

On the road at the end of the alleyway, a girl stands wrapped in a cloak of navy blue and silvery white. Golden twintails drape over her shoulders, tied off with pink lacey ribbons.

“Not until next Monday,” she says, then makes a tsk sound when her blue eyes land on 11. “You're too old to be beating up ex-girlfriends, Ned. What would your lovely wife say if she found out?”

The man snarls, and the drones in the alleyway start to hum like a nest of hornets. “Get out of here, you nutjob,” he says. “I don't need you blowing this for me. I have everything under control.”

The girl shakes her head. “Poor choice of words.”

Before the man can say anything else, 11 grabs him by the leg and rolls, taking him down to the ground. As he scrambles up she pushes her cannon right up against his chest and unleashes a blast that lights up the night, blowing him sky-high.

The man screams as he trails upward, shooting across the storm clouds like a comet.

His drones follow, chasing their runaway beehive.

When the dust clears, 11 uses the wall for support to stand. She can feel pieces of herself melting off the blistering barrel, leaving a path on the charred ground as she steps out onto the path.

The girl gazes after the man, a hand shielding her blue eyes. She whistles. "That's a wicked cool cannon," she says. "I'm so jealous of Reapers."

Day breaks, bathing the two God Giers in a wash of yellow. 11 raises her good arm. "I don't know what you guys did to mess up this world," she says. "But leave me out of it. I have someone I need to save. Anyone who stands in the way will regret it."

The girl smiles.

It's like looking in a mirror.

"Don't aim that thing at me," she says, pointing to 11's cannon. "I was just told to follow Ned and make sure he didn't kill you, given how much history you two have. Looks like it was good that I did."

"I don't know what you're talking about," says 11. Then her curiosity gets the better of her. "Why is he called Ned?"

The girl pulls her hood over her head, hiding her gold-spun hair. "Why don't you ask him yourself next time?" She gives 11 a friendly wave before leaving.

11 watches the girl go, then she calls out to her.

"Ned," she says. "Is he the King's right-hand man? Cens- The founder of the Heroes' League?"

The girl answers without looking back, "See? You can't keep away from us even if you wanted to."