I meant to post this for Zoke Week, but literally thought it up on the last night. I didn't want it to go to waste, so I spent the last week of my spare free time working on this. I'm super excited for it as you'll see at the end. Read and review!

"You sure you two will be alright? It's a little late for a drive don't you think?"

"What's that? Don't tell me my own mother, the great Sanandrea Harrison, is allowing other people to see her become this worried about her dear son?" he replied with great dramatics as he acted out each word.

Mike was getting ready for the summer picnic as he packed the last of the sandwiches into the custom basket her sister's boyfriend made. She generously let him borrow it for his date as well as her car. Mikayla, like their mother, saw her car as a valued possession only a chosen few are even considered, let alone allowed, to use its power; at least, that's how she phrases it whenever someone asks. The difference between them is his sister is more trusting towards people and willing to lend it since it was an old muscle car, but styled to where you would be seen with it in public. Mommy dearest, on the other hand, had a blood red Ferrari 458 Italia; having that car long before they were born, neither of them even had the audacity to think about asking to borrow it.

"Heh, mock all you want, your own mother can still take you down with a swift move, little man."

"If I remember correctly, little man nearly got the drop on you during last weekend. Vito was this close to beating you."

Zoey couldn't help but giggle in the passenger seat while hearing the banter between her boyfriend and his mom. In their eyes it was playful, and she was starting to see it more easily as well, since she met his family.

"Mike," she called out, "I don't mean to interrupt, but ready when you are."

He jumped into the driver's seat and put it into drive as they backed away from the house. Mikayla quickly ran outside as they went on their way and quickly said, "Make sure you take care of my baby, big brother. Or consequences will be present."

Mike never understood why Mikayla continued calling him that even though he found nothing wrong with it and plus they weren't even a year apart. It probably was a reference to the childhood they shared, how close they were led to now close they are now. Despite the connection, he knew better than to damage her car, better not to cross that bridge than drive near it.

Pulling into the parking lot of a park just outside of town, Zoey hopped out with the basket full of excitement and ran off towards the field. Mike laughed as he turned off the car and tried to catch up.

"Wait up Speedy!" he called out to her.

"I don't think so. Begging won't help," she teased.

They found a spot where they thought it would be nice to have lunch together. Ham and cheese sandwiches along with ginger ale and carrot cake; a usual but surprisingly tasty combination. After eating, they decided to admire the dimming sunset together as they chose to have a late lunch picnic. The red, orange, and pink were quickly being swallowed up by the impending night sky, although it wasn't in a threatening but a more serene manner. Zoey wraps her arm around Mike and brings him closer, Mike smiles but doesn't seem to try to return the gesture.

"Mike, what's wrong? It's just a hug."

He stops looking at the sky and faces her to answer, "I'm not afraid of hugging, it just that…" he looks away.

"What?"

"It's not you. Definitely not you."

"Then why aren't you telling me? You've been acting like this lately"

"It's nothing."

She stood up, full of frustration. He always did this, concerned about her well-being, but ends up hurting her by keeping secrets.

"Why do you feel you always need to keep secrets from me? We're a team. How do you expect to get help if you don't tell the truth?!"

"It's not like I want to! It's just-,"

"It's just what?"

He stared into her eyes, which were pleading for an understanding of what was going on. He wanted to give her an answer, but part of him didn't know himself and part of him subconsciously knew but he didn't know why.

"I-I need a minute to myself," she goes to take a walk. He gets up to try to talk to her, but stopped himself thinking she needs to be alone right now.

"Unbelievable," Zoey walks toward the playground. "I know he means well, but come on."

Taking a seat at the swing set, she looked at a family who was hanging out by the slide. The two kids were at the top, a brother and sister beaming madly as they get ready for the ride of their lives. They slid down, but when they got to the bottom, they tumbled harshly to the ground. Zoey started to get up and ready to help but noticed there's no loud crying. Instead, the boy got off the ground and dusted himself off without a fuss.

'Impressive," she silently acknowledged.

The boy turns around quickly and comforts his sister, who was silently sniffling due to the rough fall. He wipes the dirt off her clothes along with the tears falling in her cheeks. She looked at him with an appreciative but still saddened expression, the fall still fresh in her mind. But the brother was determined to lift her spirits as he gives her a comforting hug that lasts for half a minute. A small smile forms on her face as she gives him a kiss on the cheek as a reward for his efforts. She grabbed his hand and leads him to the merry-go-round, with the amused parents trailing behind them. Zoey stared at the ground, thinking about what she just saw.

'I guess some teams are easier working together than others.'

Looking back at the siblings, to see them fighting over a certain spot on the merry-go-round, even though there was more than enough room for them. Apparently, they weren't so in sync after all, but then again, no family is free of these problems. Even Mike and Mikayla have their spats, and it was hard for her to believe considering how they are. Being an only child, Zoey was often jealous of that relationship and always wished for something like that, but unfortunately never got it. She didn't mind though in addition to her own parents, spending time with Mike and his family often distracted her from this void she felt, and she felt grateful for that over time as she got more comfortable with them.

'But still…'

Mike slams his palms against his forehead as he talks to himself.

"She's right. I know it hurts her when I'm not honest. Yet, I still keep doing it. Why?"

Numerous examples proved this theory in the past, from hiding his personalities to Mal himself. Although to be fair, he wasn't even sure if Mal was returning but could've at least warned her to keep an eye out. Often there are times were times he believed he was more harmful than helpful to the trust in their relationship. He couldn't stand doing that to Zoey, but he always made the same mistake over and over again to the point where he was frustrated as well.

"WHY?!"

'It is because you worry.'

His eyes widened as he heard a voice speaking to him. An average person would normally call out to see if anyone else was around, but Mike was all too familiar with the way his mind operates. His personalities would usually communicate with him through this method when they weren't active and headaches usually followed whenever they talked loudly or all at once. Still, he'd be taken back by any voice he hadn't familiarized with; unrecognized voices are dangerous, as he has no idea what their intentions are: good or bad, considerate or selfish. Unfortunately for him, he was highly susceptible to being influenced by their words; after all they are separate parts of him talking, so he had to be cautious.

"I-I never heard you talk before."

'I do not mean you any harm, Michael. There is no need to be afraid.'

"Well sorry, but it's going to take more than that to convince me."

'I understand. I did not expect you to trust me immediately. However, as we speak, your own doubt is allowing me to convince you.'

He often forgets it's nearly impossible to lie about his feelings to the very beings that live in his mind, but it didn't go on to the point were they are right about everything. He can never give them that much control over him, not again; the last time he did nearly cost him access to the world altogether, a price too high for him.

"What's your point? What do you what?"

'I feel your concern, fear, hesitation. Seems those are the only emotions I decipher from you recently, but another resides as well. Intense desire radiates from within; buried deep but not forgotten. You care deeply, yet you mustn't allow these feelings to consume you. If you do, everything you care about will suffer in your place, including…her.'

"Zoey? I swear if you lay one finger on her-"

'I already told you; I wish no harm on you or anyone. I am more than willing to assist you in severing these inhibitions, yet you must allow yourself to receive it in order to succeed.'

Confusion was other emotion he was used to, but he continued to listen, "What do you mean? What should I say to her?"

'You'll know what to do as the time draws closer. When it does, I need you to remember: It is necessary to detach yourself from the world in certain times of peril. But when you do, a strength you never knew existed within surfaces and defeats your enemies.'

"Detach myself?" he says in utter shock. His mom was a fan of combat, especially certain martial arts. One of her favorite types of warrior are the Shaolin monks, which her contagious fascination of was passed on to him, although not as outward about it due to his dominant gentle nature. But he couldn't help admired their peaceful yet disciplined lifestyle; not many had the willpower to withstand it until the very end. One of the facts she told about him was most Shaolin monks followed Buddhism, which one of the steps it required to follow it was to remove yourself from the Earth and not get involved in with the issues of the planet, including people. Mike spent the majority of his life trying to establish connects with people, though he usually failed. The last thing he wanted was to separate himself from everyone he cared about: family, friends, Zoey.

"I can't do that! I can't!" he began to panic, "It's impossible for me and besides, doesn't it usually take years for people to achieve this? You're asking me do something I'd never think of-"

'Michael!'

He stops as an assertive tone shakes him to his core, more calming as an authoritative figure than instilling fear.

'You don't need to detach yourself permanently, but for a moment you need to forget about the world around you. Think about nothing and no one. Then, you'll find what you both are looking for.'

"When?"

'Soon. Just, let go. Not all of us wish you harm, Michael.'

Mike was once again left to his own thoughts as the voice disappeared. No idea how the mysterious alter knows about what's to come, he decides to focus on finding Zoey to take her home, or at least talk to her. As he stands up, he decides to keep the advice in the back of his mind.

Walking back to the spot where she last saw him, Zoey barely made out a glimpse of him, and she called to him.

"Hey!" Mike acknowledges her cries as he runs forward to met her halfway. Unknown to both of them, a small group of thugs spot them and decide to get a summer bonus. They grab Zoey by the shoulders and hold her back.

"Ow, hey!" she struggles to pull away from the brutes.

"What's the matter, baby," one of them taunts her and strokes her shoulder, "don't you like getting this attention?"

"I'm already taken, thank you. Now if you don't mind," she retorts as she tugs away with each word. Failing to get away, the tall one holding her tightens his grip.

"Zoey!" Mike shouts as he arrived. He knew perfectly well that even if he did switch into Vito, he had no chance of beating these guys, let alone holding his own. Aware it most likely won't do anything, he decides reasoning with them is the safest option; he owed it to Zoey to try.

"We don't want any trouble," he raises his hands up, supporting his non-violent claims, "if you want money, I don't have much but it's yours."

One thug in a denim jacket walks up to him and snatches the money out of his hands. He counts the winnings silently and suddenly, delivers a quick blow to Mike's abdomen. The attack was pretty strong and Mike's small stature didn't improve his chances of withstanding it. Zoey couldn't do anything but gasp as he fell hard to the ground, helpless to defend himself.

"You blowhards!" she yells as she kicked the thug holding her in the crotch, desperate to escape and fight them off.

"You stupid-," he shoves her to the ground and adds a kick to her stomach as punishment. A cough escapes her lips as the wind is taken out of her, attracting Mike's attention. The four remaining members gather around and pin him down, like hyenas circling around a weakened antelope, waiting for the moment it becomes a lifeless corpse; the signal to feast greedily on the remains until there's nothing. The tall one who assaulted her pins her head down as well, rubbing her face against the dirt. Her eyes closed tightly, a last minute attempt for any sort of solace from this situation.

"Don't hurt her-" but he's soon interrupted as multiple feet assault him to the back.

"I don't remember taking orders from you, Toothpick."

'Why,' he thought to himself, 'why can't I protect her? I can't even protect myself, so why do I have so much expectation?' At that moment, he remembers the detail the conversation he had with the unidentified alter:

'It is necessary to detach yourself from the world in certain times of peril. But when you do, a strength you never knew existed within surfaces and defeats your enemies.'

He couldn't do it; he didn't have the will to even try. He felt weak, but it was the honest truth. He couldn't stop focusing on trying to find away out of this mess, but his thoughts are halted as he hears a whimpering sound. He shifts his eyes towards his poor target of affection, horrified to see small tears forming on the corners of her eyes and falling down her cheeks.

'…You mustn't allow these feelings to consume you. If you do, everything you care about will suffer in your place, including…her.'

No. He couldn't let this continue, he won't allow it. Although it pained him severely, he had to do this to protect them, to protect her.

"I'm sorry, Zoey," he whispers as he closed his eyes, pushing away thoughts about survival, worry, his family, and his dear girlfriend. All of the images in his mind slowly started to fade away and the world around him soon followed. Darkness closed in, though it felt more natural; a soft blanket enveloping him. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he witnessed his last memory fading away:

'Let. Go.'

"Oh, hell. I think he's dead," one of the thugs wearing a bandana proclaimed. His friends stop the kicking of amusement to look at each other in shock. Zoey opened her eyes rapidly and looks at her boyfriend, not ready to except the possibility of a murder to an innocent person. Regret over what she said to him fills her; had she known this was happening in the future, she would never have ended the conversation it did earlier. The thought of leaving anyone one feeling abandoned in his or her last moments left her with incomprehensible grief. The gang members check him, their agenda for the day did not include homicide, but sighs of relief are made as the body slightly moves with each breath he takes.

"You idiot! He ain't dead!" the one in the denim jacket, the one Zoey assumed was the leader of group, shouts as he slapped him across the back of the head.

A member with a yellow bandana tied around his wrist bent down to get a closer look.

"I thought we didn't hit him that hard. How did he pass out?"

"You see how skinny this guy is? You could tap him on the shoulder and he would probably fall over."

The leader along with the other four began to laugh, while the one with the bandana continued to look. Zoey, relieved to know he's alive and infuriated by their teasing, struggles to get up. Whatever attack she pulls off, stupid as it might be, beats doing nothing. Meanwhile, the only gang member not laughing develops a bad feeling in his gut. The way this guy was breathing was too…relaxed; it simulated sleeping more than unconscious breathing. He wasn't a doctor, but the way he just passed out like that was unsettling to say the least.

Going for broke, Zoey balled up her fists and readied herself to punch the shortest one, but the tall guy grabbed her again before she tried anything.

"I don't think so. Hey boys, why don't we take her on a hot date? Dinner, dancing, you know…fun stuff."

Her eyes grew big in contrast to her irises and pupils shrunk in horror, she didn't want to believe they wouldn't do anything of that level, but she wasn't as naïve as she used to be in the past.

"Oh God, you wouldn't!"

The entire group brought her in for an uncomfortably tight hug as she struggled with failure. The laughter turned slightly maniacal and the gang made their way to their ride, but stopped when they hear shuffling. All six of them turn around and witness an unexpected event.

The boyfriend rose from the ground, slowly but without difficulty to their surprise. Each person, including Zoey herself, figured the minimal injury would be shakiness; the slight bruises appeared on his arms for God's sake. As he fully stood up, his posture set an entirely different mood: shoulders back, completely straight, chest slightly out, feet apart. All of this while his eyes remained shut, unable to read his expression, like he wasn't fully aware of the world.

"See? See that," the guy with the bandana hysterically called out, "I told you there was something off about this guy."

The leader, believing it's all a façade to intimidate them, attempts to call out the bluff.

"Pretty brave of you, String Bean. Don't think you can take another ass whooping."

He doesn't respond, irking him almost purposefully.

"Are you listening? HEY! Don't you freakin' ignore me!"

At that exclamation, he opened his eyes and at that moment, Zoey literally feels her heart stop. A half-lidded, hardened stare inhabited them along with a furious yet at peace tone; in complete contrast to the wide-eyed compassionate gaze she was accustomed to. The stare threw off the gang as well; something was off about this guy, he was just standing there and eyeing all five of them closely, but they aren't going to give him the satisfaction. The leader turned to Zoey and asked:

"Red, what's the deal with your boy," he rubbed his fists against each other as he walked menacingly towards her, "and you better have an answer."

Zoey, however, wasn't even paying attention; the thug noticed she looked more afraid of the weakling than all five of them combined. He winded back his arm for a gut punch when she answered, loud enough for everyone to hear:

"That's not "my boy" anymore."

The thugs' eyes slightly widen in confusion, believing this girl was joking. Setting his hand up for a slap, the leader hears:

"You have until the count of five."

A deep baritone with no rasps whatsoever, a clear voice throwing him off (A.N.: I like to imagine Michael Jai White's voice, but use what you think fits ;)). No one else was talking in the direction he was facing, so he hesitantly turns around to face that he prayed to God wasn't the source. All eyes were on the thin teenager, anticipating the next course of action. The bravado withering away but still determined to put up a front, the thug speaks.

"Are you talking to me?"

"One."

Everyone in that area jumped out of their skins not to the retort, but the fact someone of that stature can produce such a low volume without any trouble. The one with the bandana once again made his anxieties known.

"Listen, man. We better just let her go."

"Don't let this punk scare you!"

"Two."

The tall one holding Zoey began having his doubts as well, "I agree, this we don't know anything about this guy."

"He might be a killer!"

The leader yelled back at his posse, not allowing weakness to show in any of his men, "We're not leaving. You hear this guy, he's all talk."

The short one joins in, "Let's bail. Just forget it."

"I don't think it's worth it," one slightly on the heavy side chimed in to conversation.

"Three."

He just kept counting, ignoring the conversation. Full panic was settling in the leader along with anger for his action.

"NO ONE IS GOING ANYWHERE! YOU HEAR THIS GUY! YOU HEAR THIS GUY!?"

Zoey tensed up, bracing herself for Lord knows whatever happened next. No idea what he, or whoever that was in control, was trying to pull off, but the first chance she had, she'd make a run for it. Her plan wasn't abandoning him, just getting help before he got hurt.

"Four."

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" the leader, blinded by rage, charges at him full force. The left cross he attempted is easily parried off to the side, leaving him open to a strike to the stomach and chest. No time to recollect was given as a roundhouse kick to his middle back sent him crashing towards the ground. Mouths were agape as the boy in the denim jacket laid there, moaning in pain, barely conscious while the boy in blue stood there, turning his attention back to the rest of the posse. The tall one let the girl in red go in an instant, though it was more out of shock than fear.

"Oh my God!?"

"Did you see that?!"

The slightly pudgy boy whispered to the others, "You know, those fancy kicks don't work in actual fights. If we swarm him, he won't be able to do all these fancy moves. So I say we go for it."

The other three look back to the boy in blue, the fact they're even considering the tactic was a warning sign to their state of sanity. Zoey would laugh incredulously if she weren't so caught off guard from recent events. Honestly, she wasn't thinking of anything right now, although getting away from the action was still on her agenda.

To her surprise, the tall one shoved her into the bandana boy's hands and joined the other two boys to surround Mike, or rather the one in control. Forming a triangle, they put their guards up as they take fighting stances. Mike's body, on the other hand, didn't move a muscle; not even bothering to make fists. Angered by this insult, the short boy charges forwards and jumps to tackle the boy, with the other two rushing in from behind him. Whoever was using Mike's body certainly knew what they were doing, as he simply kicked the short one square in the chest. The two behind him were able to grab his arms, but he performed a handstand to position himself in the air and slam their backs into each other, causing them to stumble over. The tall one quickly gets up and delivers strikes, but to no avail as each one is dodged effortlessly. The pudgy one is accidently struck in the face by one of the missing strikes and tossed into the tall one. However, both boys get up again shortly and attack from both sides with kicks and punches.

The spiky-haired teen didn't even looked phased as he managed to block off all attacks simultaneously. The slightly heavy boy managed to grab his midsection to pull off a suplex, but is strongly elbowed in the left shoulder and face. The boy in blue then made his hands into a claw form as he thrusts them into the guy's lower abdomen, sending him a few feet back into the ground. Tall guy attempts a right jab and suddenly blocked by Mike's right forearm. He shifts his waist to connect a left kick to his knee and then a right one straight to the chest. Short boy then jumps onto his back, but easily maneuvered off as the thin fighter grabbed his arm using the claw form again. He threw him to the ground and the minute he gets up from the dirt, the petite guy is round housed in the face; ironically, defeated by the technique he claimed would have no effect due to the circumstances.

Going back into standing position, Mike's body looked back at the bandana-wearing boy holding the girl in red. Slowly walking towards them, the thug couldn't help but be frozen in fear as this person of hidden skill and power views him as his next target. Zoey kept her eyes on him, nervous about his motives, nervous about his next move; she didn't like the feeling of being in fear of anyone she cares about, but how else was as she supposed to react to this alternate persona she's never encountered. Speaking of which, his body stopped a couple of feet away from them, just waiting for the thug to try something; like a taunt. Shaking uncontrollably, he's unable to look him in the eye and just lets go of the girl. He balled up his fists, yet suddenly one of his arms is grabbed by the hero and brings him inches from his face. Two, simple sentences are uttered with the same, chilling baritone.

"You're smarter than that. Help your wounded."

Lowering his guard, the last remaining thug rushes over to his incapacitated comrades to provide the help he could.

Mike, or whomever this was, took a deep breath through the nose, simply turned to Zoey and asked, although his expression remained mostly stoic and didn't sound to concerned.

"Do you need any medical attention?"

"N-No," she cleared her throat to sound more confident, "just dust, no bruises. You, however, look like you need-"

"How did you get here?"

"By car, over there by the parking lot. Those bruises you have-,"

Before she can even finish, he walks off toward the direction she motioned to. Apparently, like most of Mike's alters, he didn't excel in the public manners department. Now, regaining her composure before all of this happened, realizing what did just happened, she runs after him. Catching up to him staring up at the sky by the tree they originally watched the sunset, though the last of the vibrant rays of the Sun had vanished behind the horizon a few moments ago. Now, there was just a summer night with stars decorating the plane above.

"You can't leave me like that. You have some explaining to do. Where did all that come from?"

He continues to look up, not acknowledging her presence.

"Don't ignore me! I know you're not Mike!"

Finally, he faces her and replies, "I apologize, my intentions were not to deceive you, but I needed to speak with you alone. It's about Michael."

"Sure, but, who are you?"

"It doesn't matter now. All you need to know is to listen to what I say. I have no time to waste."

Reluctantly, she chooses to hear him out as she folds her arms in defeat.

He begins to speak, "I am not justifying his actions, but for the longest time, he suppressed his most intense emotions. Not for his own reasons, but for events that occurred he wasn't aware of. This was needed to fortify the security in the mind at the time, and for a while, it worked. Unfortunately, now it's not enough as the enemy is gathering to return. But in order defeat them, he needs to access his intensities, harness their power, use them to right the sins made."

Confusion coming at full force, Zoey decides to add her input, "Well, who's this enemy?"

"A collective entity residing within the subconscious. A force of something dark but thought long gone."

"Mal's returning?!" the thought of that horrid, bloodthirsty, sadistic individual resurfacing to the world made her skin crawl and from a pit in her stomach. It still surprised her how someone sweet and innocent as her boyfriend could become a malicious vessel of darkness so easily throughout season 5.

"No. The Malevolent One is an inconvenience compared to them."

"Them? Who still haven't told me who "they" are? Wait, this is more than one person?"

"That is what the term "collective" traditionally means."

"You don't have to get snotty about it."

His eyes squint harshly as he looks mentally strained by an invisible force.

"My time is up, I can feel myself slipping back."

"Don't go! Not yet!"

"It is not a free choice in the matter."

"If so, then why are you telling me?"

He closes his eyes as he continues, "Someone needs to know and this was the only time I was able to gain control to send the message. I need your assistance: aid Michael, hone his abilities, alert whoever is willing to listen.

"Is this advice, a plan?"

"Advice would be more helpful as I'd know how to avoid the future. This is a warning."

A gasp escapes his mouth for a quick second as he opened his eyes suddenly, looking around in a state of utter confusion.

"Zoey…what happened?...Oh my God! Those guys! They attacked you! Are you okay?!"

She reassures him as she walked closer to him, finally seeing comfort in him, at least for the current moment, "I'm fine. Someone saved us."

"Who?"

She simply pointed to the top of his head with a simple gesture and a half-smile.

"Vito? Manitoba?"

"Actually, it was an alter I've never seen before. Had a deep, clear voice; it was hard to make out, he was silent for most of the time he was here. Except, he was clearly skilled in martial arts, like Bruce Lee; took out four of those jerks and made one retreat like a wimp. That brings my question, where did he learn those skills?"

Zoey had witnessed multiple instances where Mike's body displayed incredible prowess in physical environments. His astonishing athleticism, off-putting strength combined with gravity-defying agility, was so effortlessly veiled by his figure some would dare to call malnourished.

"Oh, well, after…certain events happened in my sister and I's childhood, my mom wanted to up our self-defense."

Of course, Mrs. Harrison always had a fascination with martial-arts backgrounds, whether it was street fighting or otherwise. Ironically, her career choice included little to no involvement with these interests, as a special technological engineer. So it was no surprise he learned this techniques, with extreme precision and skill.

"Most of it was basic, but we chose to go further only because we wanted to. Mikayla's a pacifist, but she has some interest in fighting, although she tries to repress it most of time."

"I see."

"So, anything else happened?"

"Actually, yes,' she hesitantly holds his shoulders to make sure she can support herself.

"He told me someone, or more like some people, from your head are returning. He didn't actually say who they were. Except for one thing: they're worse than Mal, much, much worse."

A look of dread spreads across his face rapidly. Going on his knees, he digs his fingers into his hair.

"Are you kidding? More evil personalities? Because having ONE inner demon was such as a blast!"

Screams of anguish travel into the dirt, as once again, he's the source of suffering to others as well as those dear to him. Zoey lowers herself to his level to be a better comfort and picks him up to face her.

"However, he did mention the way to help you. He said your deepest emotions were repressed in order to keep them from surfacing. Now that isn't working anymore, harnessing these emotions is supposed to help you. Also, telling everyone we know to prepare and keep an eye out will gain him the advantage."

"Sounds good. But, I don't repress my feelings, plus I don't how this will help me in any way, shape, or form."

"Think about it, Mike. Maybe you're enraged for something in the past, or devastated about recent events, or-"

Suddenly, Mike brings her face closer and kisses her, gentle yet passionate. Taken by surprise, Zoey breaks it off for a minute to gain air, not implying she didn't enjoy the action.

"Wow, that's one way to do it," a large smile forms on her heart-shaped face.

"Well, if I'm going to need to learn a skill, better start with that right? It's about time I stepped up," he returns the smile with his large, goofy one.

She giggles as he kisses her again; this time, she's prepared to return it as he deepens it by slowly massaging his lips against hers. Her hands wrap around his torso as he cupped one hand on her cheek and the other to the back of her head.

Both of them have no idea of what the future holds for them, but at that moment, they were thinking the same thing. Preparation was the only option, although they wished to stop it altogether. But for right now, making sure their loved ones are ready for the enemy that's to rise again, including the one right in front of them.

That's right! This is actually sort of a prequel to my future story, Dark Bondage. I'll get that up as soon as I can, once I get other things taken care of, including posting a few more chapters of my other story Halfbreed, thanks so much hoped you enjoyed!