You know that feeling when the universe decides to throw everything it’s got at you, and you somehow survive? Yeah, that was me. After Breaking Point—dodging bullets, outsmarting killers, and basically being amazing—I figured it was time to do something radical: relax.

Relaxing, of course, isn’t really my thing. So instead of the quiet spa weekend Bones suggested (seriously?), we wound up at Neon Heights Carnival. Bright lights, loud music, and a suspiciously high number of stalls labeled “100% not rigged” screamed my kind of fun. Bones? He was, well, Bones."

“This isn’t a vacation,” he grumbled, kicking a stray bottle cap out of his way. “It’s sensory overload with deep-fried snacks.”

“And bloodthirsty mutants,” I added, I read the brochure.

He didn’t dignify that with a response, but the look he gave me was priceless. It only got better when I spotted it, Fly or Die.

Now, let me paint you a picture: it’s a zip line. A ridiculously long, dangerously low zip line that just happens to stretch over an enclosure full of snarling mutant beasts. The sign said things like “No Refunds” and “Death Waiver Required,” and honestly? I was all in.

“Bones, look!” I pointed with all the enthusiasm of a kid spotting McDonalds. “Fly or Die! That’s gotta be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Bones squinted at the sign, his expression souring by the second. “‘No safety harness’... ‘no refunds’… Rebel, why don't you try something less dangerous, like Base Jumping.”

I rolled my eyes. “Relax, old man. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Death,” he shot back, deadpan. “That’s literally the second word in the name.”

“Exactly! Adds to the thrill!”

And before he could argue, I was already halfway to the ticket booth, shoving my credits at the grinning ride operator. “Where do I sign?”

The crowd around the ride was electric, cheering and placing bets on who’d survive (or wouldn’t). Above us, the zip line stretched across the enclosure like a mortal challenge, and below it? The beasts. Mutated hybrids with too many teeth and an unsettling eagerness to leap at anything that moved.

Bones was grumbling the entire climb to the top platform. “This isn’t a ride, Rebel. It’s a death wish with a price tag.”

“C’mon,” I teased, leaning over the edge. “Admit it—it’s genius. I mean, look at that crowd. They’re living for it!”

“Yeah,” he muttered, glancing down at the snapping predators. “And half of ’em probably bought tickets just to watch someone splatter.”

At the top, I strapped my katana to my back—“just in case”—and adjusted my gloves. “Hey, Bones,” I called over my shoulder. “Come up here for a sec. You gotta see the view.”

He was skeptical, of course. “I’m fine where I am.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” I said, handing him the zip line handle with the widest, most suspicious grin I could muster. “I need you to hold this while I fix my jacket.”

He narrowed his eyes but took the handle anyway. “What am I supposed to do with—HEY!”

Before he could finish, I shoved him off the platform, a little Rebel-approved nudge—a move I like to call ‘instant encouragement.’

Let me just say, Bones has very colorful vocabulary when he’s screaming. He rocketed down the line, cursing me, the ride, and probably the entire concept of gravity. Below him, the mutants leapt and snapped, their jaws missing him by inches as the line dipped precariously low.

“DAMN IT, REBEL!” he bellowed, his voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. “He’s gonna die for sure!” a kid screamed. While the ride operator shouted betting odds, "in play special folks- Five-to-one says the big guy falls in!”

At one point, the line jolted, and for a split second, I thought he might actually snap it. “THIS LINE’S GONNA BREAK, I SWEAR TO—".

He hit the landing platform like a sack of rocks, tumbling to a stop with all the grace of a malfunctioning robot. The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter as I doubled over at the top platform, tears streaming down my face.

Rebel’s Ride

“You’re a natural, Bones!” I shouted, barely able to breathe through my laughter.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” he yelled, staggering to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger in my direction.

I saluted him before hopping onto the zip line myself. Unlike Bones’ chaotic descent, mine was smooth, stylish—practically effortless. Huge speakers pumped out the ride's jingle “Flyyyy or dieeee—it’s the only way to liiiiive! See, Bones? I told you it’s a breeze! Try smiling next time!” I might’ve even waved to the crowd and blown them a kiss. By the time I landed beside him, I was grinning ear to ear, acknowledging the patrons with a bow while they chanted “Fly or Die! Fly or Die!”

“Admit it,” I teased. “You loved it. Felt alive for the first time in years, huh?”

“I felt alive because I thought I was about to die!”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

As we walked away from the ride, Bones was still muttering under his breath about “reckless idiots” and “safety regulations.” I, meanwhile, was basking in the chaos.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he said, shaking his head.

“You didn’t let me do anything.” I grinned. “I just gave you a little nudge.”

He glared at me. “Nudge me again, and you’ll be the one dangling over those damn monsters.”

“Ok, Hun” I said, still grinning. And if I hummed the Fly or Die jingle the whole way back? Well, that was just because i loved it, not to annoy him at all.