Memories Buried by Snow

Prologue
Memories Buried by Snow

Afternoon sunlight bathed the mountains in gold and orange hues, the sun hung above horizon. A shadow stretched on the sheet of snow as a solitary figure trudged through fog and frost, draped in white, with a white bag slung over the shoulder. Footsteps faded with the falling snow. Had it not been for the shadow, they would’ve faded into the sunset.

Through winter trees and shafts of light, the individual exited the woodland. Up ahead, beyond the drop and the haze, was another mountain, where a large villa stood surrounded by dense woodland, reflected on the figures ski goggles.

A gust swept through the trees and tugged at the white hood, ruffling their raven-black hair and revealing the white headset beneath.

“What a bother.” A wisp of white smoke formed from the figure’s breath in a youthful male voice. The lower portion of his face was visibly young and had a light complexion, emphasized by the low temperature.

The young boy gazed at the horizon, where the sun hung just over the mountains — soaking up the warmth, before pressing into his headset, “Command, I’m on site.”

“Copy that, Two-Zero-One.” A feminine voice on the other end responded, one with a faint accent.

The boy, Two-Zero-One, dropped the bag and it clicked open. Inside was an assortment of black and white components, with a blue sling. On one knee, he twisted each intricate part together, until it formed the shape of a rifle.

After assembling the firearm, he rubbed his gloved palms together.

He adjusted the scope until the blurred shapes sharpened to reveal: a window, its bars stark against the yellow glow behind them. He caught a glimpse of an old memory — a golden ball of light, beyond a cold iron cage.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he pulled back his head.

“Did something happen?” The woman asked on the headset.

“Yeah…” He put his hand on his chest, steadying his breaths, “Conditions aren’t exactly favorable.”

“You left most of your gear in the car.”

“I’m not gonna be here for too long, right? Get to the cliff, shoot, get back down.” He responded, checking the white bag.

“It’s better to be prepared.”

Two-Zero-One picked up a magazine, slowly inserting the bullets.

“Whose brilliant idea was it to have my first mission be on the mountain?”

“... Professor Tetsuya’s.” She answered.

“Of course, he did…” He clicked his tongue, “Why did they choose me? Any other agent could make this shot.”

“Because according to them, there’s no one else like you.”

“It’s barely two kilometers. This is basically routine.” He argued.

A short silence followed, the sun lit up half his face.

Five seconds passed before she asked, “Have you ever aimed at a real person before?”

His mouth opened for a second, breathing in.

All he had to do was watch and pull the trigger at the right moment. Physically, it was something he had done countless times, albeit colder. Mentally, it was his first step into unfamiliar territory.

He closed his mouth and tried to swallow as silently as possible.

“How close have you ever been to death?” She asked, “Have you ever caused it with your own two hands?”

An image flashed in the boy’s mind, one of an arm, protruding through rubble under clouds of dust and peering sunlight.

“... No.” He quietly responded.

“All twelve agencies are watching you, Two-Zero-One. They will evaluate everything after the mission. To see what you can do. If Professor Tetsuya’s masterpiece was worth their investments, and whether they will produce more—” There was a slight crackle at the tail-end of her words.

“What happens… if I fail?” He hesitantly asked.

“If you fail, then—” A high-pitched snap cut her off. A faint thunder clap could be heard in the distance.

“Ahk!” He yelped, “Command? Command, do you copy?”

Cold air hissed.

A stiff numbness ran through his fingers, “If I fail... They’ll… the white room.”

Visions of a sterile room, of bed straps and scalpels, of blurry doctors holding needles.

He scanned his surroundings.

Ahead, he was dangerously close to the edge. Just in front of him was a steep drop less than ten feet away, down a chasm where the sunlight could not reach, where a haunting pull called out to him. Beyond that, the villa stood atop another summit.

To his right were the continuous hills surrounded by dense forests, where the sun setting sank between two mountains.

To his left, opposite of the Sun, a monotony of dark clouds gathered beyond the mountain range, lightning faintly flashing — a blizzard was brewing.

Behind him was the path he had taken to get here. His footsteps, buried beneath a fresh blanket of snow, as if he they were never there. Further away, beyond the trees, his handler waited.

“Where would I even…?” He shook his head. There was nowhere to run to. From above, shafts of golden sunlight were like prison bars.

“No… just don’t fail.” He whispered to himself, slotting in the half-filled magazine.

Flat on the ground, the snow wasted no time piling on top of him. Snow flickered in his view every other second, coming from his left. The render was a blur, yet he saw a warm glow radiating from the brown interior.

When it finally focused, he watched the cozy sight of wooden floors and cream white walls, decorated with yellow lamps. There was a slightly elevated section at the front, decorated to look like a stage. A small, intimate group of ten people sat below, an audience chatting before the stage.

Static crackled in the boy’s headset, “——Hello? — you hear me? Do you hear me now?” She asked.

“Ah… Yeah… yeah.” He shook his head, “I can hear you now…”

“Must’ve been some radio interference. Keep me posted.”

“Copy that.” He replied, coiling the sling to his hand.

A girl stepped onto the stage. She had platinum white hair, not unlike the snow, and looked almost the same age he was, if not a little younger. Behind her, a butler handed her a violin, and she gave him a high-five.

At the front-most chair sat a gentleman with white streaks in his hair.

“So, that’s him.” The young assassin adjusted his scope, focusing on the old gentleman.

A crackle followed, “Have you located the target?”

The boy pressed onto his and asked, “Just the CEO, and I believe his daughter. Any updates?”

“We haven’t re—ved any new details.” Her voice was the only sound besides the howling winds, but even that was blocked out by the weather.

“It would be nice if they gave me a photo or a description.”

Light dimmed inside, and he watched the girl play the violin, while her audience watched cheerfully.

“Wouldn’t— this much trouble if we already— D—termine who— figure it——” Her voice glitched.

Thunder rumbled from the distance, signaling the blizzard’s first attack. A gust of wind pulled his white cloak over his face — the more he tried pulling it off, the more it slapped him in the face.

After being repeatedly slapped, he got on his knees and took off his cloak, letting the wind take it.

The blue turtleneck underneath was all that was left to fend him from the frigid frost. A single gust of wind was enough to send shivers down his spine. He exhaled into his stiff fingers, then grabbed hold of the firearm.

Beams of sunlight sank as the sun was halfway down the mountain, and the air grew thinner with each passing moment.

But when he returned his gaze through the scope, he saw the violin drop to the wooden floor. The heiress’ arms were caught in the butler’s tight grip.

“Two-Zero-One to Command, do you copy? Target has been identified. He has taken the heiress as a hostage.” He pressed into his headset, frantically calling out to his handler, “I repeat, the target has the heiress hostage!”

“Copy— I repeat— ”

Static stopped him, letting several critical seconds slip away. Some of the audience members stood up, only to stop once the butler pulled out a pistol.

“Command, I have line of sight on the target. I repeat, he’s in line of sight. Permission to engage!” He shouted into his headset.

“—— risk shooting the heiress. Do not——————” More static crackled from the other end, until there was nothing left to make out.

Without instruction, Two-Zero-One scowled. His rage at inaction betrayed his fear of being reprimanded. He grit his teeth, muttering, “Sorry, Command…”

As he squeezed the trigger, a bright flash blinded him. The rifle’s shot was drowned out by the crack of lightning.

The bullet vanished to the snowy curtain.

When the thunder died down, he quickly opened his eyes and turned back into the interior.

He zoomed in, and a pit formed in his chest.

Tears streamed down from the girl’s eyes as the butler placed the gun against the back of her head. Betrayal set in her eyes as the butler who stepped on the stage with her was ready to take her life.

Clenching his teeth, Two-Zero-One ejected the casing, chambering a new load.

A golden cartridge flew out with a metallic ping as he aligned his sights with the butler’s head, waiting for an opportunity.

Patiently, he waited for his window. His lip started cracking as the seconds passed. Cold air started stabbed his lungs like icy needles.

Then he saw the CEO stand up and appeared to plead with the butler, taking away his attention from the girl.

It was routine. An act he was intimately familiar with. But even though it was the window he waited for, his finger quivered.

The mission was clear: Eliminate the target.

There was no room for hesitation or self-doubt.

He bit his cracked lips and squeezed the trigger.

Click —

Blood splattered.

Two-Zero-One bled from the back of his head, staining the white cliff.

“I can’t… die yet…” The young assassin groaned, forcing himself upright.

He instinctively touched the back of his head. His vision blurred as the red leaked between his gloved fingers. Something had struck him from behind.

Another thing shattered just a few feet from his head, burying into the snow.

A bullet from the blizzard — hail.

Ice ran across his veins as he shifted his gaze towards the sky. His thoughts lagged for a moment, processing the magnitude of what was yet to come.

A vortex swirled above his head.

The boy got to his feet, staring at the spiraling clouds. But as he stepped back, a small crackle stopped him.

“—Zero One—”

The handler’s voice was barely audible. But the conversation from earlier came rushing back to him:

“All twelve agencies are watching you, Two-Zero-One. They will evaluate everything after the mission. To see what you can do.”

He looked ahead, the cold path in front of him was lined scattered bullets, and sitting at its edge was the barrel of his half-buried rifle.

Turning back meant failure. Staying put meant death. Unable to make a decision, he froze.

“What should I—? ”

Crack.

He staggered, barely standing as another hailstone shattered his goggles. Nothing was clear.

“Return—”

His handler’s voice crackled.

“Come back—— before — blizzard——”

Relief washed over him. A small smile formed on his face as he turned around.

But as he took one step forward, he paused. The heiress’ frightened face flashed in his mind. Her horrified expression as tears streamed down his face.

Balling his hand into a fist, he marched back to his position.

The snowstorm punished his decision.

His bag was whisked to the far end of the cliff.

Every step slid across the surface, while the winds barraged his face with pale pellets. A symphony of white cannonballs burned his ears. Thousands of invisible needles stabbed his cheeks.

He didn’t know whether the heiress was even still alive. But if she was, the window of opportunity was shrinking.

Time blurred when the blizzard began —

Disoriented, he couldn’t tell how long it had been since the icy assault began. But he knew that it had to be somewhere between thirty seconds and a thousand years.

When he made it back to his initial position, he lifted his half-buried rifle and wiped the frosted scope with his thumb.

Frustrated, he threw his shattered goggles to the side. His right eye was dark copper, with a small black mole just beneath it. His left was an azure blue, glowing faintly in the monotonous darkness.

All he had to do was search for the warm yellow dot in the distance.

Beyond the blizzard, he saw the situation escalating inside. The target still had the heiress hostage, while the CEO inside on his knees with blood soaking from his sleeve. The butler swayed his gun around, as if to force the audience to stay back.

But as he pulled the trigger, he only heard a hollow click.

“Huh?”

A fleeting shaft of sunlight pierced through the gray, illuminating a single bullet, shining above the snow.

Even though the sharp cold refused to be ignored, he inched towards the bullet with his elbows. But as soon as his stiff fingers grabbed it, the snow shifted, causing the firearm to slip.

“No!” His heart pounded against his throat as he barely hung on.

A drop of blood slid across his face, down his chin, and falling into the darkness.

Two-Zero-One instinctively pulled himself back up, the last bullet squeezed tightly between his fingers as he hurriedly placed his hand on solid ground.

The skies relentlessly pelted him with hail. Countless shards shredded through his blue shirt, leaving dry burns on his skin.

The snow shifted beneath him, relieving him of his balance as he slowly slid towards the edge.

With half his torso already on the edge, the rifle threatened to drag him along to the depths.

Nature forced him to make a decision: Drop the gun, or fall with it.

Rather than continue staring into the abyss, he shifted his gaze back at the villa and thought of the heiress.

A snarl formed on his face as he thought about her expression. The blurry memory of someone else flashed in his mind — another with the same frightened look.

The frozen storm wasn’t something he could fight, much less an enemy he could kill. It was just something in the way.

Blue light ran through his veins, boiling his blood and lighting up his flesh. The thin frost around his body melted away, turning into steam.

With the sun almost down, he mustered all the strength and willpower he had left to pull up the weapon, barely lifting it to eye-level.

Though the constant storm insisted on blocking his view, the flickering sunlight granted him a few seconds of clarity to find the yellow dot.

In spite of the blizzard, the villa stood proud and strong, barely damaged. As soon as it cleared and focused, he saw his target headed towards the door with the heiress. She reached out for her father, who was still bleeding on the ground.

His heartbeat rang.

From outside the window bars, the heiress’ outstretched arms forced him to remember something he desperately tried to forget.

In that moment, he caught a glimpse of someone else — a girl with golden hair and golden eyes, desperately reaching for him from beyond the iron bars.

In front of him was another crying child, another outstretched hand out of reach.

A familiar helplessness hammered at his chest, “Not again.”

Hanging halfway between the sun and the abyss, he loaded his final bullet.

Both of his eyes lit up with an unnatural blue light, an azure explosion slammed him back to solid ground.

Snow, wind resistance, trajectory — all of those lost meaning the moment the bullet left the muzzle. It weaved through the falling snow and hail, leaving behind a trail of blue sparks as crashing through the window, before taking a sharp, upwards turn straight towards the butler’s head.

In less than a second, the scent of gunpowder was blown away by the blizzard’s last breath.

The sun had set.

With a deep groan, the boy returned his gaze towards the villa, undamaged by the hailstorm.

Through the scope of the rifle, he gazed at the silenced faces of those staring at the blood-stained wall.

After a second’s notice, their mouths widened.

Without sound, he could only imagine the screams of panic. The exception of the old man who reached for his daughter, the young girl, who remained stunned on the floor — her blank expression told it all.

Even as her father embraced her, she slowly turned her gaze towards the shattered window, her blank gaze almost making eye contact with the sniper.

But as Two-Zero-One noticed, one more hailstone shot down from the sky and shattered his scope, as if to tell him that his job was done.

He picked up the rifle and all the scattered things that he could find along his shattered goggles, stuffing them all into the bag. As he slung it over his shoulder, the weight nearly toppled him over.

There was a raspiness to his voice, “All I had to do was pull the trigger, so… why?”

Though his body was stiff and tenderized from the hailstorm, what ached the most was the storm forming in his chest.

“Why did it… why did she…?” It was a simple, yet incomplete question. One without an easy answer, or perhaps it was lost in the snowstorm.

Bile crept up from his throat. He swallowed, grimacing the sour taste.

He shook his head, taking a deep exhale, before turning away from the edge. He began his slow descent back, dressed in a torn shirt, covered in scrapes and bruises.

Ahead of him were the wintry black trees. Despite being ravaged by the blizzard, like the villa, they stood tall and proud.

With the adrenaline gone, his knees burned with every step. A sharp pain radiated throughout his body, throbbing.

Yet he noticed that the hail had stopped falling. In the darkness of night, he didn’t realize that the blizzard had already passed by.

He looked up at the aurora dancing in the sky.

Static crackled in his ear and the voice followed, asking frantically, “— Agent Two-Zero-One, do you copy? Do you read me, Two-Zero-One? Are you alright?”

“I’m… alive.” With a cracked voice, he answered.

“Status?”

“I’ve successfully…” He took a sharp inhale, reiterating, “I’ve successfully completed mission. I’ll be returni—”

One final hit. A sucker punch from the blizzard that left him bleeding from the head.

He dropped to the ground and slid towards the forest, leaving a trail through the frozen blanket, until his body crashed into one of the black trees.

Frost bit into his flesh and ice seeped into veins, sapping at his strength, “Not here…not yet… I still have to… get answers...”

Pain throbbed through his body as if his blood vessels were about to burst. While the bitterness of bile filled his taste buds. The only other thing that his senses registered were the beating footsteps as he was buried by snow.

*

While the winds hummed and whistled, visions of an old rundown warehouse came flooding back in the boy’s thoughts, filled with fire and screams. Hazy, short and fragmented.

In the darkness, sitting inside a rattling cage, and a voice that boomed with anger from the other side of the door.

“That was the experimental!”

There was a vision of a syringe with blue and yellow fluid. Then one with a twisted hand buried in rubble as it reached for the sky.

The next vision followed, under the blue sky, standing at the podium. Static from the speakers blaring, followed by a booming voice, “The first of his kind! Professor Tetsuya’s masterpiece!”

Followed by the sound of soft giggles, and the voice that asked, “Well, we can’t have that. How about I name you instead? What if your name was…”

Two-Zero-One’s mismatched eyes shot open. The azure glow in his right eye had disappeared, and returned to being a dark copper. The skies above were nearly pitch black, partially obscured by the branches.

“Oh good, y’er still alive. Gave me a scare there.” A familiar feminine voice sighed with relief.

He found himself lying on a log, still within the woodland, still surrounded by snow.

In front of him was a small crackling fire with barely any wood to sustain it, let alone keep him warm.

A snowy-haired woman stood nearby, wearing sunglasses, and a green, four-leaf clover necklace dangling over her black suit.

“I was only s’posed to watch ya from afar, but since ya didn’t come back, I had ta look fer ya. Lucky ya weren’t wearin’ that white cloak, otherwise I’d’ve never found ya.” Her tone was a complicated mix of rattled and relieved, any semblance of formality she had in the radio had completely vanished.

His body was heavy and sore. It was already difficult trying to sit upright, but the added sensation of the soaking cold was dragging him back down. As he settled upright, he noticed the black coat wrapped around his body.

He took off his headset and asked, “What… happened?” His voice was raspy and barely audible.

“That’s what ya get for not preparing properly.” She sighed, echoing his words mockingly, “What was it you said? Get to the cliff, shoot, get back down, right?”

“... right.” He answered meekly.

She let out a deep sigh, “Them higher-ups prob’ly knew about the blizzard, and yet they forced ya’ out here anyway. Cold-hearted bastards, I swear, risking your life like that…”

The boy blinked twice, staring at the crackling flame.

The white-haired woman adjusted her sunglasses, “I was tryna order you to return. But ya acted on your own accord, tried ta play hero, let the CEO get shot in the arm, get yerself beaten up by hail, disappear soon as you were done, and—”

He shuddered in fear, recognizing that the woman was his handler, and was listing down his mistakes, “I’m… I didn’t—”

“… and ya saved a life…” The small flame lit up her smile, “You’re a good, kind person, aren’t you?”

Memories of all that transpired, of all he did, flashed in his mind. The face of the heiress, the blood-stained wall. Bile immediately built up in his mouth again — a disgusting taste that he immediately spat out, shivering in both revulsion and frost.

“Oh, gross.” The white-haired woman’s facade of professionalism quickly dropped as she watched him vomit.

“I killed… someone…” He muttered out with a clogged, nasally voice. His stomach churning.

“That’s right… Yer first assignment was to take someone’s life. You killed someone for the first time.”

The white-haired woman pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and began wiping his chin. “That ain’t something a thirteen year old should ever experience. But you also kept the heiress alive, s’well as every other bloke there. Don’t forget that.”

“… understood.” He nodded.

She tossed the vomit-stained handkerchief away and him a mug full of a dark, brown fluid, “Drink this, should warm ya right up.”

His fingers quivered as he took hold of the mug. The warm wisps rising from it were clearly visible. The heat was soothing to his stiff palms.

“But… what about the CEO…” He whimpered.

She sat down beside him and added, “That tough old bloke’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s just glad his daughter’s alive. Grats, ya succeeded in yer first mission.”

Relief washed over him, and he took a sip, only to stick out his tongue as soon as he tasted it, “…This isn’t chocolate?”

“Ya can’t tell me you’ve never had coffee before. Guess it’s only the finest for the Professor’s masterpiece.” She spoke in a carefree manner, ruffling his hair.

“Masterpiece…” His eyes narrowed as he lowered his gaze.

The woman laughed awkwardly in response, trying to shrug off the remark, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. It’s only been a year since the implementation, hasn’t it. Wounds still prob’ly fresh, ain’t it?” She blurted out tactlessly.

“... Every day has been the same since then...”

The white-haired leaned back and exhaled softly, her breath visible in the icy air, “If ya want me honest opinion, I can see why the Professor has so much faith in ya. I reckon most adults would’a run at the first sight of the blizzard.”

“Them higher-ups sent ya out there alone just ta watch ya tuck yer tail between yer legs. They wanted to make the Professor’s one success look like a fluke.” She stretched out her arms forward, continuing with a louder voice, “But ya proved you were worth every damn penny they spent.”

Startled, he responded, “Thank you, miss Nocturne…”

“Nocturne’s just me codename. Call me Luna, Luna Aster.”

“Miss Luna, I’m…”

“Felix, right? Everybody in the agency knows about ya.”

“Right…” The boy, Felix, absent-mindedly took another sip from the coffee as he was lost in thought.

As he reflexively spat out the bitter drink, Luna covered her mouth and giggled to herself, “Still don’t like how it tastes? Let me fix that.”

She took the mug off his hands, “Stay here for a minute, the car’s parked right outside from here.”

Left alone in the woods, he shivered. Though his body was still stiff and sore, he inched closer the small flame.

The crackle of fire filled the silence as he brought his hands closer to it. The warmth returned feeling into his hands, and he began stretching his fingers.

“… saved…” He whispered in raspy voice, recalling the heiress’ expression and how the CEO embraced her. His face relaxed, and he took long, deep inhales.

Only for a cold gust to wipe out the flame, leaving only the charred wood and crackling embers.

The heated air faded instantly, turning his relaxed expression into an annoyed pout as the snow began to pour over his head.

He properly put on the black coat that was draped over his shoulders and blew warm air into his hands.

Branches creaked, and the sound of snow crunched, signaling her return, “Ah, it looks like the fire went out. But it looks like that black coat suits ya better.”

The white-haired woman handed the mug to the shivering boy. As he took another sip, he immediately blurted out, “Sugar?” The taste was now much sweeter than before.

“Two creams and three sugars, to be exact. It’s me favorite.” She answered warmly as she sat down beside him.”

“It’s… nice… thank you.” He hurriedly chugged down half the drink to warm himself up.

“In spite’a everything ye went up against, ya stood y’er ground and survived a hailstorm, an’ somehow completed yer first mission. No wonder them scientists keep tryna turn more people like ya… ” She mused as she gazed towards the night sky.

Flustered, he gazed into his coffee. The blue glow radiating from his left eye reflected in the dark drink. He sipped through the cup.

The wind began to howl, and snow started dropping from the branches.

“Time to go. Any longer and the cold’s gonna kill the both of us.”

“Back to the agency?” His eyebrows curled, there was a bitterness to his question.

“Ya ain’t dead, but y’er still beaten up badly. So let’s get ya to a hospital first.”

“Ah, mhm…” He nodded.

Sensing the dilemma in his voice, she then commented, “After that, how about we go to uh…” She placed her hand on her chin, “Well, y’er too young for a pub. So how ‘bout we go anywhere you like?”

“Somewhere I like? But… I don’t really know anywhere…”

“Then I’ll show you places.”

“Ah, okay. Thank you…”

“Truth is, I should be the one thankin’ you.”

“Huh?”

Luna suddenly slapped his back with a cheery smile, before walking towards the car outside the woodland, “Hurry up, agent.”

He hurriedly finished the coffee and followed her out of the woodland. As he stepped out, he saw the open skies, waves of light dancing with blue, green and cyan hues.

“Them scientists really want to turn more people like ya. Eventually, there was a breakthrough in their research, did ya know that?” She stood just a few meters away from him, her white hair swaying in the winter winds.

Luna lifted up her sunglasses and turned to face him.

“Miss, your eyes…”

Her eyes radiated with an orange glow. The color as fire.

“… Technically I ain’t at your caliber yet, but thanks… for being the first of our kind.”

Her words caught him off guard, and his hands squeezed the cup, “What?”

“I’m saying you’re not alone anymore, Felix.”

Iridescent auroras danced in the distance, yet her eyes stood out the most to him. They radiated with the color of the fire, no, the color of sunset.

She walked closer to him with a stern voice, “Y’er still just a boy, far from becoming the light of the future…” Placing her hand on top of his head, she smiled, “But don’t worry. I’ll teach ya.”

The car engine started. The heater hummed as Luna drove. Felix sat in the back of the car, sharing the space with a red spear lying in the back.

His face pressed against the window, the monotonous black and white flashed by, coming and going, yet the blue glow in his eye remained ever stagnant.

In the pale, muted darkness of the car, only two colors stood out —

The blue glow of his left eye, and the ember like orange radiating from both of Luna’s.

Unlike those ephemeral moments that quickly disappear, he will always remember the taste of his first coffee, and the warmth he felt in his chest.

As the exhaustion set in, his eyelids grew too heavy. The last thing he saw was Luna’s white hair waving back and forth from the driver’s seat.

**

As the years passed, Felix sat on the blue leather chair.

“Felix?” A soft voice called his name.

He opened his mismatched eyes, meeting the gaze of a young black-haired woman seated across from him.

“We’re here. Are you ready?” She asked.

He clutched the middle of his chest, squeezing the blue fabric. He saw the night sky through window and answered, “Yeah… I’m ready.”