Time is up, Rabbit

Rabbit Between Timelines

[Timeline: Present | Bangkok, 2025]

She was standing on a crowded street, surrounded by the neon signs and steaming food carts. People brushed past her without pause. No one noticed she hadn't been there a second earlier.

Her laugh bubbled up, unsteady but exhilarated. "Holy shit. It worked."

On instinct, she reached for the nearest object that proved the moment was real - a paper cup just set on a counter as a barista turned away. Freen snatched it, raised it in mock salute to no one in particular, and walked off into the night. She took a long sip, wrinkled her nose at the too-sweet caramel.

"Guess I'll need to work on my timing."

And then the pull started - a gravity that wrapped around her ribs and yanked. The world blinked.

[Timeline: Future | Bangkok, 2030 - Two Weeks Earlier]

She staggered back into the workshop, almost colliding with Heng's chair. He swore, shoving the rolling stool back.

"Dammit, Freen-!"

But the screen in front of him stole his words.

[Delta Detected: Timeline Shift - 0.00001%]
[Synchronization in Progress...]

Freen leaned over his shoulder, grinning like a kid who'd just stolen fireworks.

"It actually works. I moved something. The system felt it."

"Don't look so proud." Heng shoved a tissue at her - only then did she notice the thin smear of blood under her nose. "One test run and you're already bleeding. This isn't a toy."

[Timeline: Future | Bangkok, 2030 - One Week Earlier]

A week after the test run Freen slammed the workshop door harder than necessary. Tools rattled on the bench; a loose spring skittered across the floor and clinked against a dented tin can. Heng, hunched over a soldering iron, didn't even look up at first-he knew the sound of her boots when she was angry.

"She almost saw me," Freen spat, ripping the helmet off and throwing it onto the table.

Her voice had an edge now-not the teasing dare she used in the café, but something sharp and urgent.

Heng finally looked up, wiping his hands on a rag. "Who?"

"Rebecca Armstrong," Freen said, the name hard in her mouth. She fumbled with the watch-device on the bench, fingers trembling. "She was looking too closely. Smiling like she didn't notice, but her eyes-there was something there. Too focused. She's not dumb, Heng. She's getting close."

Heng set the rag down slowly, the workshop suddenly became very quiet.

"Rebecca Armstrong?" His tone was flat, the kind that carried old warnings.

"Yes, and she's the one who ends up in my courtroom," Freen snapped. "In 2030 she's the prosecutor who pulls the mask off 'Rabbit.' I won't have that."

Heng's jaw tightened. He pushed his goggles up and leaned back in the stool.

"There's a difference," he said slowly, "between using my inventions to get a quick haul and trying to rewrite someone's life. One thing is theft. The other is... playing god." He let the last word hang, heavy.

Freen laughed, but it had no humor. "Call it what you want. Call it self-defense." She looked at him, raw. "If she's two steps away from unmasking me, I'd rather close the gap by unmaking the path that gets her there."