ASP – The Activity Sup Protocol

Chapter Three – Between Fire and Ice

Remo stood at the edge of the underground fortress, watching the lights shimmer over the ice-rimmed horizon. The bunker was deep enough that the cold never truly reached them, but up here, above the tunnels and steel-reinforced halls of Httoq, the air could kill a man in minutes.

He inhaled deeply. Felt the burn in his lungs.

Behind him, the city was alive.

Lupa was training—she never stopped. He could sense her somewhere below, refining herself into something sharper, something untouchable. Romulus was resting, his body absorbing the energy he needed from the last supply run. That was all he could do. He wasn’t like them. He didn’t teleport. He didn’t shape the world. His gift was simpler, heavier—his existence kept Httoq standing.

And below, locked in the very center of the bunker, was the only man who had ever surprised him.

Remo closed his eyes and reached for him.

“Are you awake?”

A pause. A flicker of warmth.

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?”

Remo smiled. “Not a chance.”

The First Mission After The Pizza Guy

Remo had brought Hermes here by accident. A government checkpoint. An inspection. A pizza box with something inside that wasn’t pizza, shackled to a briefcase inside a delivery bag. The moment Hermes had crossed the threshold of Httoq, it was too late to let him go.

Romulus had wanted to kill him—clean, simple, a loose end tied.

But Remo had heard Hermes’s thoughts before he even spoke.

He wasn’t just some delivery guy.

He was one of them.

He was Federated.

It had been Hermes who gave them a name.

“They’ll never question it,” he had said, arms crossed over his chest. “It sounds like bureaucratic nonsense. That’s what they trust—papers, protocols, pointless systems. If we have a name, we exist on their terms. We get past inspections. We get inside.”

Remo had laughed. “We don’t need a name.”

“You do if you don’t want to get caught.”

Hermes had smiled then, that sharp, knowing smile of his. “ASP: The Activity Sup Protocol.”

Lupa had frowned. “That’s not even a real thing.”

“Sure it is,” Hermes had said. “Well, it is now.”

“Why Sup?” Remo had asked.

Hermes shrugged. “That’s how you three talk to each other. Always in a hurry, always running, always trying not to disappear. Sup, Sup, Sup.”

Lupa had narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”

Hermes just smirked. “I notice things.”

Romulus had crossed his arms. “You just like making up names.”

Hermes had chuckled. “Yeah. Always have.”

There was a pause, just long enough to be noticed.

Lupa caught it first. “Who else?”

Hermes’s smile didn’t waver, but something behind his eyes shifted. “No one important.”

No one had believed him.

But no one had asked again.

And so ASP was born.

The Lesson in Separation

Lupa had always asked the questions. That was her nature. The first time they had separated for too long, she had been the one to figure out what was happening—and she had been the one to watch it unfold.

She could still see it.

She had stayed behind in a ruined gas station while Remo and Rom went ahead. They were just scouting for supplies. It had only been ten hours.

But by the time they came back, Romulus looked different. His shoulders had slumped, his breathing had changed—too slow, too shallow.

And Remo—Remo had the beginnings of lines around his eyes.

She had seen it first. And she had felt it, too.

Something had pulled at her skin, like the very fabric of her being was thinning, stretching toward them. When they finally came back, it snapped back into place, and the sensation was so intense it nearly knocked her off her feet.

That night, they didn’t sleep.

Instead, they tested it. Timed it.

It was twenty-four hours exactly. The moment they crossed that threshold, the aging began—slow at first, but then exponential.

Lupa had never let them forget it.

And now, watching Remo prepare to leave again, she wanted to stop him.

“You’re running out of time,” she said.

Remo smirked. “I’ll be back before you miss me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“You don’t even know how to control it yet.”

His smirk faded. That was the only time she ever saw fear in him—when she pointed out something he already knew was true.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she added, softer now.

“I do,” Remo said.

And then, just like before, he was gone.

A Mistake in the Movement of Space

Somewhere in the Middle East, Boris appeared in a war zone.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Remo had only meant to jump himself. But something about Boris—something about his stillness, his weightlessness, his lack of gravity—had pulled him along.

And now, Boris was alone.

This wasn’t a war he had started. It wasn’t even his war.

It was just war.

Shouting. Fire. Smoke. A burning tank.

A man raised his weapon—saw Boris, hesitated.

Boris didn’t move.

He didn’t need to.

Because in the next second, he vanished.

And in an instant, he was back in Httoq.

Lupa’s First Real Decision When Remo returned alone, Lupa didn’t speak.

She just stared at him.

“You’re back early,” she said finally.

Remo exhaled. “Not exactly.”

He didn’t have to explain. She already knew.

“Where is he?” she asked.

Remo hesitated. Then, for the first time in his life, he said the words out loud.

“I lost him.”

For once, Lupa didn’t hesitate.

“Then we’re bringing him back,” she said.

Not a question. A decision.

For the first time, she didn’t wait for them to act. She acted.

Remo blinked at her. Then, despite everything, he smiled.

“Looks like I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Shut up,” Lupa muttered.

But this time, when he vanished, she went with him.