A Light's Flicker - OC x Cookie Run

The Judgement...

(Huge shoutout to Mrgriaffe for making the skeleton of this chapter based on my ideas. This chapter wouldn't be here before Christmas were it not for him. Thanks, Gira!)

In the hushed ambiance of the recovery rooms nestled within the heart of the Crème Republic, Mochaccino began to stir.

The soft hum of his suit's intricate workings and the distant murmur of hushed conversations formed a backdrop as he gradually emerged from the depths of unconsciousness.

The events leading to his lapse into oblivion flickered in his mind, a painful collage of actions he struggled to reconcile.

As his eyes fluttered open, Mochaccino found himself ensconced in a clean, sterile recovery room.

The muted glow of medical equipment cast a gentle illumination, and the steady beep of a nearby monitor punctuated the prevailing quietude.

Blinking away the remnants of his unconsciousness, his vision still a tad blurry, he became acutely aware of the white walls enveloping him and the pristine sheets that cocooned his form.

Espresso, an unusual worry etched across his typically stoic face, stood sentinel beside the bed.

 This uncharacteristic expression drew the attention of Madeleine, who entered the room with a look of mild confusion, her normally calm demeanor unsettled by Espresso's visible concern.

"Mochaccino Cookie! You're awake!" Espresso's voice, far from subdued, carried a heavy sense of relief as he acknowledged the scientist's return to consciousness.

The weight of the room seemed to lift, if only slightly, at the sight of Mochaccino stirring from his unconscious state.

Madeleine, his eyebrow arching at the rare spectacle of concern etched on Espresso's face, exchanged a puzzled glance with him. "Espresso Cookie, are you feeling alright? You seem... different."

Espresso, momentarily caught off guard, cleared his throat and attempted to regain composure. "I'm fine. Just... concerned," he mumbled, an unusual admission from someone not accustomed to displaying such emotions openly.

Meanwhile, Mochaccino, still grappling with the aftermath of his actions, shifted his gaze between Espresso and Madeleine. "What... What happened? Is everyone okay?" he stammered, his voice carrying a trace of the inner turmoil.

Espresso hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "You took down the Masked Cookies. But the way you did it... it was unlike you. We were worried," he admitted, an unusual vulnerability present in his words.

Madeleine, now thoroughly bewildered, pondered, (Espresso Cookie, worried? That's a first. Why doesn't he act like this around me?)

The room hung heavy with an undercurrent of tension, an unspoken concern weaving its way through the trio, each ensnared in their private mesh of thoughts and emotions.

On Mochaccino's countenance, a tumultuous medley of emotions danced; confusion, guilt, and an inner turmoil that eluded easy expression.

"I... lost control. I need to understand what happened," he confessed, his gaze oscillating between Espresso and Madeleine, a plea for answers and a touch of reassurance.

In the sudden realization of his prolonged unconsciousness, Mochaccino's hand absentmindedly found the back of his head. "Wait, how long have I been... out of commission?" he inquired, his tone a mix of daze and concern.

Espresso, grappling with the delicate task of conveying unwelcome news, pondered his response. He cleared his throat, seeking a way to articulate the reality with gentleness.