Old Demons

The tension in the air shattered like splintered glass when Diego lunged forward. He threw himself at Eric, and the two collided with a force reverberating through the warehouse. Diego attacked with a nearly feral fury, while Eric moved with the precision of someone well-accustomed to fighting.

“You’ve always been like this, Diego,” Eric said, dodging a kick and countering with a punch that Diego blocked with his forearm. “An idealist. Never a realist.”

Diego didn’t reply, but the sound of his fists cutting through the air was as loud as his heavy breathing. He spun and landed a punch on the side of Eric’s face, but Eric absorbed the impact, retreating only a few steps. The two paused momentarily, their gazes locked as if their shared past was reflected between them.

From behind a stack of boxes, Leo watched, barely able to process what was happening. Before he could decide whether to step in, the screech of metal against concrete came from behind him. Turning, he saw the other Vanguard agent—a burly man with a feral grin—advancing with a metal rod in hand.

“Perfect,” Leo muttered, ducking as the man swung the rod inches from his head. Quickly searching for a weapon, he drew the energized blade Rubi had given him.

“Stay out of this, kid,” the man growled, swinging the rod again. Leo raised the blade to block the strike, the impact resonating through his arms, but he held his ground.

As Diego and Eric exchanged blows that echoed throughout the warehouse, Leo found himself locked in his own battle. He dodged and struck back, using his agility to counter the brute strength of his opponent. The man pressed forward with ferocious attacks, but Leo used the boxes and structures around them to leap out of reach and counter with swift strikes.

In a critical moment, the man lunged with a powerful swing, the rod slicing through the air toward Leo. He leaped backward, but as he landed, something felt different. The boots reacted to the impact, propelling him back to his feet with a lightness he’d never experienced before. Without thinking, he used the momentum to spin away from a second attack.

But even as he fought, part of his mind lingered on the scene nearby. Diego’s strikes at Eric seemed more than just combat—they were an outcry, a release of something deeply buried. Watching it, Leo felt the bitter taste of memory rise within him. The last time he’d felt such rage and helplessness was with Lucy.

Her lifeless body in his arms. The blood. The unanswered questions. He knew what it was like to search for something—anything—to fill the void and make sense of the pain.

Leo shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. There was no time for this. The agent charged again, and Leo propelled himself upward, landing behind the man with a precision that made him pause.

The boots thrummed beneath him, their energy seamlessly propelling him forward. Every step, every motion felt sharper, more fluid—like they were perfectly tuned to his instincts.

Frustrated, the man snarled and tried to trap Leo against a wall. Leo sidestepped with more force this time, and the boots amplified the motion, launching him onto a low beam. The man gaped, looking up as Leo released the beam and came down with both feet squarely on his chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

Leo panted, the combat feeling unnervingly smooth. The boots no longer felt like tools but an innate part of him, amplifying his agility and precision in ways he hadn’t imagined.

The boots really work, he marveled, the thought fleeting as he twisted away from another wild swing. The agent faltered, his confidence cracking under Leo’s increasingly precise counters. Yet a disquieting realization gnawed at the edge of Leo’s focus: each movement, each flawless strike, felt less deliberate and more automatic—like the boots weren’t just enhancing him, but drawing something raw and untamed from within.

Across the room, Eric landed a kick that forced Diego to step back. “You’re losing focus, Diego,” he said, his voice dripping with superiority. “That’s what happens when you let the past control you.”

Diego clenched his fists, his strikes sharpening with almost mechanical precision, each one fueled by the simmering anger beneath his calm exterior. “Control is something you’ve mastered, isn’t it?” he spat, surging forward with a blow that Eric deflected just in time.

Meanwhile, Leo found an opening. Evading a reckless swing, he spun and slid the blade across the side of the agent’s torso, sending him collapsing to the ground. Breathing heavily, Leo turned to see Diego gaining the upper hand against Eric.

Eric retreated, raising a hand as if calling for a truce. “Enough of this,” he said, panting but with a hollow smile. “Did you come here just to beat me to death? Or can we talk like civilized people?”

Diego hesitated, his chest heaving as he stared at Eric. “Do you think you have anything to say that I’d want to hear?”

“Oh, I know you do,” Eric replied, straightening his posture. “You’re not like the others. I’ve always known that. You’re not naive. You know everything I’ve done was necessary.”

Diego took a step forward, anger seeping into his voice. “Necessary? You became part of what we tried so hard to escape. You gave up your freedom. And you call that necessity?”

Eric crossed his arms, his tone dark. “You and your friends talk about freedom as if it’s the solution to everything. But freedom brings chaos. Someone has to maintain balance, Diego. The Vanguard does that.”

“Balance?” Diego’s voice dripped with disdain. “You don’t maintain balance. You crush anything that refuses to bend. You strip people of their choices and call it order. That’s not balance. It’s tyranny wrapped in excuses.”

“You’re delusional,” Eric said, stepping closer. “The world doesn’t run on hope, Diego. It runs on control, and always will. And the irony is, you’re trying to impose your ideal world too. You’re no different from us, just more dishonest about it.”

Before Diego could respond, Eric lunged, reigniting their clash. Leo rushed to Diego’s side, ready to assist, but Eric was too fast. He managed to knock Diego down and prepared to strike.

“Diego!” Leo shouted, rushing forward and driving his blade into Eric with enough force to send him stumbling to the ground. Breathing heavily, Leo helped Diego to his feet.

Eric, now injured, looked at them with a weary smile. “The Vanguard always finds a way. There’s nothing you can do.”

Diego stepped forward, his gaze a mix of anger and sorrow. “My greatest failure was not pulling you back from this,” Diego murmured, his voice thick with grief that hung between regret and resignation. The words felt like an offering to the ghost of the friend he once knew.

Eric didn’t reply. He simply laughed, a faint, bitter sound, before losing consciousness.

Diego stepped back slowly, his shoulders tense and his breathing ragged. He didn’t meet Leo’s eyes, but the weight of his presence filled the space around them.

For a moment, Diego stood in silence, fists clenched and jaw tight. It was as if he were waging a silent war within himself, a conflict that spilled into the heavy air of the warehouse.

Leo watched him but didn’t know what to say. The intensity of the fight lingered over them like a suffocating shadow.

Finally, Diego broke the silence, his voice low and restrained. “We don’t have time to waste,” Diego said, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the warehouse walls. He dragged a hand through his hair, a gesture both impatient and tired. “You and Rubi, check the Electronics District. She knows it better than anyone.”

“And you?” Leo asked hesitantly, hoping Diego would include him, though he already knew the answer.

Diego took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the warehouse as if searching for something long gone. He rubbed the back of his neck, the motion slow and tense, before squaring his shoulders.

“I need to... piece together what we have. I’ll meet with Alice and figure out our next steps.” His words were firm, but there was a subtle hesitation in his tone—a pause between sentences that Leo couldn’t ignore.

When Diego glanced at where Eric lay, his lips pressed into a thin line. He lingered for a moment but quickly turned his focus forward as if shoving something to the back of his mind.

Leo nodded slowly, realizing this wasn’t just strategy. It was Diego’s way of pushing him away, of wrestling with his demons in silence.

“Alright. I’ll go with Rubi,” Leo said, his voice steadier than he felt. He didn’t want to push Diego further than he already seemed stretched.

Diego finally looked at him, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like he wanted to say more—maybe thank him or apologize—but the words didn’t come. He simply nodded, fatigue shadowing his face.

“Don’t take too long,” he said at last, his voice more plea than command.

As they exited the warehouse, their footsteps echoed off the walls. Leo stole one last glance at Diego and felt the distance between them widen, even as they stood side by side. There was something fractured in Diego’s gaze, a man adrift in a labyrinth of his own making, searching for answers that might never come.

At the tunnel’s exit, Diego stopped, placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “And, Leo…” He hesitated, his grip tightening briefly. “Be careful.”

Leo nodded silently. As Diego walked away, nothing more needed to be said. He watched as Diego disappeared into the chaos of the district, his figure fading like a shadow among the crowd.