It kneels first, then learns how to open the door from the inside.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Alex stood at the edge of the living room, still in borrowed clothes that clung too tightly in the wrong places and too loosely in the others. Her arms were crossed, her stomach full, and yet her body hummed with an energy that food could not reach. She could still feel Mia's stare, still smell the memory of latex and praise.

Slaanesh whispered faintly. Not words this time, a purr. Satisfaction.

"You okay?" Hannah asked, already peeling off her shoes.

Alex nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just... tired."

She wasn't. Not really.

But she couldn't say what she was. Other than sweaty, even though she was barely outside.

In the bathroom, steam rolled across the mirror. Alex let the shower run hot again, hoping the heat might drive something out of her, the tension, the scent, the constant throb beneath her skin. She stared into the fogged glass and ran her fingers over her throat.

You are becoming, the voice cooed.

She shut her eyes and let the water hit her face.

Meanwhile, in the dim of her own bedroom, Hannah had her phone to her ear, curled sideways on the bed like a teenage girl making gossip plans.

"I mean, she's intense. But in a good way," she said, twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly.

Mia's voice on the other end trembled. "I want to make something perfect. Not just beautiful, right. Do you know what she likes? What fits?"

Hannah grinned to herself, letting her fingers trail along the comforter.

"Latex worked. But think bigger. Softer, sharper. Contradictions. Things that hug her just enough. That traps heat, traps scent. That makes people stare. She doesn't want attention, which makes it work even better."

Mia paused, breathing heavier now. "That helps. I've been sketching, but nothing feels like... enough."

"Don't make it enough," Hannah whispered. "Make it crave more. Make her crave wearing it. You've tasted it now. You know what I mean."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. Silence stretched.

"I can do that," Mia finally said.

"I know," Hannah said. "And when you bring them over, bring yourself too."

Another pause, longer this time. Mia's voice dropped an octave when it returned.

"Okay."

Later that night, Mia sat at her workbench, bare-handed, fabrics spread before her like offerings. The latex suit lay folded, seams still shining faintly. Her fingers hovered over it. She hadn't washed it yet.

She touched it.

The spot, the one she'd licked, still tingled. Her pulse sped up. The room smelled faintly like it had earlier. Like heat. Like memory. Like something she wasn't meant to feel but couldn't forget.

But something else moved inside her now. Not just the residue of Alex's cum, though, that still simmered in her veins, but a whisper. Not divine. Not infernal. Human. Personal.

Desire, not her own.

The softest voice, like the wind behind her thoughts. Not a command, but a hunger. She felt Alex's restraint like a secret coiled inside her. Not to suppress others for their safety but to ruin them completely. To let only the deserving drown in her scent.

And Mia wanted to be one of the deserving. One of the few who got close enough to fall apart.

She breathed in. Closed her eyes. And began to sew.

Each stitch followed the line of Alex's shape in her mind. Curves. Weight. Power. A garment not meant to fit but to reveal, to provoke, to dominate.

She whispered her name once.

Then again.

She kept stitching.

Far away, in a collapsed ward of an abandoned hospital, fluorescent light flickered weakly over broken monitors. A red-winged shadow passed through the dust-choked hall.

Dr. Hal Vire sat in a chair that might once have been used in surgery. His hands were covered in ink and blood, some his, some not.

Vella, the Herald of Khorne, slammed through the rusted doors with a scowl that could split granite. She stood taller than any man, wings brushing either wall, hair like wildfire. She wore nothing subtle. Her power shimmered with every heartbeat.

"Where," she growled, "did they get them?"

Vire didn't look up. "Everywhere."

"I killed seventy-four."

"You'll kill more."

"I will kill you if you don't tell me how many."

A shape leaned against the far wall, slight, robed, neither male nor female, their face hidden behind a shifting mask of mirrored glass.

The Herald of Tzeentch said nothing.

"They have to spread," Vire said. "If they don't, this game tips too far."

"Khorne doesn't play with snakes."

"Khorne kills them," Vire said. "But you know what happens if one god wins too soon."

Vella snarled. But she didn't swing.

Not yet.

"You're protected," she spat. "For now."

She turned on the others. "But if you don't help me cleanse this, I'll burn your cults too."

She vanished down the corridor, fury trailing behind her like fire.

Tzeentch's Herald turned slightly.

"You've bought us time," they said.

Vire only smiled. "Time's all I need."