Empty eyes, empty expression, empty heart. Neo felt nothing as the stadium exploded into cheers.

Expected. That was the only word that flitted through her head as she tossed her hair, making it gleam in the spotlight. She could see Weronika and Elsie out of the corners of her eyes, bathed in a dim red glow. Weronika grinned proudly and waved both of her hands at everyone, seeming to delight in the "power" and "street cred" her massive bear paw afforded her. Elsie was pretending to growl at the spectators, curling her fingers into claws. And even though Neo couldn't see her, she could hear her DJ whimpering excitedly even over the roar of the crowd.

"Hnnggh! Oh, Neo-sama, you did it! You did it again! Another tremendous, wonderful, incredible, spectacular, gorgeous performance! Ohhh, if only there were better words to describe Neo-sama! Alas, I am too stupid and too tired to think of any!"

Expected. Neo left Sophia to herself, still twiddling her fingers and all but drooling on top of Neo from the DJ booth above. But to Neo, it was all just expected. None of it thrilled or annoyed her anymore.

Maybe Elsie still starves for external validation, and maybe Weronika is too much of a lackwit to realize how tedious all of this is, and I honestly don't care what Sophia is thinking because it's always—the same thing. Expected. Neo. That was why none of it excited or irritated her anymore. It was just boredom from the predictability. What little pride she took in plans coming to fruition was slowly turning into disappointment and frustration with how little it satisfied her. People like Elsie were still too dependent upon the praise of others, and people like Weronika were still desperate enough to revel in it whenever it came their way. As for the likes of Neo?

I have it all, yes, but what am I supposed to do with it? What is it supposed to do for me? The novelty of being a young, talented prodigy adored by all after such a brief but daring debut had already worn off for the aspiring diva. And as far as she was concerned, she was more than just aspiring. She'd already reached that peak. Life was nothing but a series of endless mountains for her to climb and ultimately turn into the latest stepping stones in her journey. Was that all it was ever supposed to be?

The applause was and was not her endgame. She did not need the reminder that she was the ultimate vocalist, the best singer, in the world. That was true regardless of what people thought. But every fan, every vote, was a new notch in her belt, a new gem in her crown, a new gold coin to her dragon's hoard. They became the stepping stones with which she built her ever-increasing peaks. But stepping stones in and of themselves were not exciting. They were as pebbles to a mountain, so Neo stalked quietly offstage, ignoring the screaming, adoring crowd behind her.

"Ha, ha, Neo! Hey, HEY, NEO!" Weronika's hearty bellow stood out over all the others, but Neo still did not turn around. She already knew what Weronika would say. First, she'd demand an encore to appease the audience—but even more importantly, and more truthfully, she wanted to appease her ego—then, she'd try to turn it into a game or a challenge just to bait Neo into it.

Neo may have made her love of competition overly obvious, but she was not so stupid and one-track-minded that she could be lured that easily. Neo also did not care about Weronika's ego. They were not scheduled to perform past their allotted timeslot, so they weren't going to, and that was that. Weronika's talk was only that: talk. So why did Neo need to acknowledge her at all if she already knew how it would end?

"Pfft, sheesh! Ungrateful bitch!" Weronika snickered, raising her eyebrows, and shaking her head at Neo's audacity and callousness. She secretly hoped that Neo heard her, but Neo gave no indication one way or the other, and Weronika didn't want to be caught trying to find out.

Expected. Predictable. Boring. Neo sighed as she returned to her dressing room backstage, taking a seat at the vanity, slumping over, and sulking to herself. She wasn't looking for an ostentatious life, just one where her status as the world's best diva was unquestionable. And yet, even though it was a life one could argue that she was already living, she felt… restless, impatient.

"Are we there yet?" Her inner child whined and kicked the back of her brain as if it was a car seat in front of her.

"Don't make me turn this car around!" Neo wanted to snarl, but that was ridiculous, she couldn't turn time around. She was powerless to do anything but sulk and watch her anger twist and fray outward. She wasn't just more talented than the average person, but smarter too.

I can read anybody like an open book and my career has barely begun! It was funny. They would call her the mysterious, enigmatic one—and even though it was a facet of her reputation that she enjoyed flaunting whenever it served her—she would've argued the opposite.

Would not it be stranger to face success after success after success with the same dewy-eyed schoolgirl wonder that a first-timer might experience? Abyssmare wasn't just a group of talented individuals, it was a group supported by talented individuals. It was such that all they had to do was appear on stage and the crowd would go wild. All of this, mere months into their debut. Would not it be stranger to live a life such as this and yet still be surprised by victory after victory?

Although she did not fully understand it, Neo was wondering after the day she would finally meet her match in a fair fight rather than a landslide victory, whether for or against her. But perhaps Neo shouldn't have tempted fate with so much pride and arrogance. She considered herself not just a master of singing, but music, and not just music, but performance, and not just performance, but organization. Because each piece interlocked with another, Neo considered herself more than just the main vocalist, or even the leader. She thought she understood every angle of the show better than anyone, at least until fate finally decided to send an appropriate adversary.

For her arrogance, she received a surprising but swift, decisive loss at the hands of all seven other units. For her pride, she was forced to experience the loss as it happened in real-time. For once, she could not hide from reality, or her true place within it. Nothing went according to plan, a rug pulled out from beneath her. A poetic, karmic end for the girl who considered everything so predictable, was it not? In one little moment, a stepping-stone event triggered a landslide loss and Neo was left standing alone in the rubble, completely blindsided. This was the price she paid for tempting fate and resting too comfortably on her past laurels.

Had the crowd not been so infuriated by their own perceived loss, they might've come to the quicker, deeper understanding that they were witnessing history! For the first time at least within her memory, Neo could feel something. It wasn't a pleasant emotion, but it was a foreign sensation that captured her interest as nothing else had in years and years. How was she supposed to cope? Not just with the sudden loss, but the sudden wave of chaotic emotions that came rushing after.

Adding insult to injury, her voice had abandoned and betrayed her as well. Her very identity suddenly failed her when she needed it most, and she forgot even how to make noise. She tried to make like her voice and flee, stumbling offstage in an unseeing blur. So much for the self-proclaimed "best". But Neo got what she wished for. She wasn't so stoic and emotionless anymore. It was one thing Neo wasn't the best at: handling not being the best at something.

AN: I was randomly thinking about how part of why Neo is so emotionless is probably because she lives a fairly routine, "boring" life. That, combined with looking at the meta frustration her first loss caused me, inspired this fic.