The Prophet - FINALE

Nemi tugs Shiro through narrow passages, their footsteps echoing off crumbling walls. The route feels familiar - they used to race through these same corridors during games of tag, back when Haven's halls still rang with children's laughter.

"Remember the shortcut?" Nemi whispers, pulling Shiro toward a half-collapsed stairwell. Their old escape route when Mother caught them stealing extra desserts from the kitchen.

Shiro's muscles remember the path before her mind does. Her body moves on instinct, scaling fallen beams and squeezing through gaps that seem too small for an adult. Just like when they were kids, Nemi leads and Shiro follows.

Guards' shouts echo behind them, growing more distant as they delve deeper into Haven's forgotten spaces. The sound of boots on concrete fades, replaced by their own ragged breathing.

Shiro and Nemi emerge from an alley into Bonaparte's industrial district. Steam hisses from rusted pipes overhead, casting the street in a hazy veil. They pause to catch their breath, their clothes streaked with dust from Haven's ruins.

"We should be clear now. The guards never patrol this far from-"

A figure steps out from behind a steam vent, cutting off their path. Gonydeal Armor gleams dull bronze in the filtered light.

"Did you really think we'd let you slip away that easily? For someone so clever, you can be remarkably naive."

Shiro's muscles tense as she positions herself between Nemi and the guard. Her talons flex beneath her sleeves, ready to strike.

"Tracking nanobots." The Commander taps her temple. "Injected while you were unconscious. We've been following your every move."

Her Gonydeal armor shifts, plates realigning as her arms transform. Metal unfolds like deadly origami, revealing retractable mantis-like blades where flesh should be. The Gulls catch the light, edges honed to lethal perfection.

The Commander drops into a fighting stance, her arm-blades spread wide. "Now then, shall we begin?"

The Commander strikes at Shiro first, arm-blades whistling through the air. Shiro ducks, feeling the wind of the attack ruffle her hair.

Steam vents burst in rhythmic patterns, creating moments of blind spots that the Commander exploits with ruthless efficiency. A blade catches Shiro's sleeve, tearing fabric and drawing blood. The wound heals instantly, but the Commander’s smile widens.

"Let's see how long you can keep that up."

The Commander’s modified arms swing in deadly arcs, forcing Shiro to retreat. Each step takes her further from Nemi, who watches helplessly as the fight intensifies. The Commander’s experience shows in her economy of movement - no wasted energy, no telegraphed attacks.

Shiro's talons spark against the Commander’s blades, but she can't find an opening in the woman's defense. The Commander moves like water, each attack flowing into the next in an endless stream of lethal strikes.

"You're good," the Commander says, pressing her advantage. "But you lack refinement. Raw talent isn't enough against years of combat experience."

Steam whirls around them as Shiro spots an opening. Her talons flash forward, catching the Commander’s shoulder. Scales screeches against metal as she tears through the Gonydeal armor.

The Commander staggers back, but her lips curl into a cruel smile. Too late, Shiro realizes her mistake. The Commander’s apparent weakness was a feint, drawing her in close. The woman's arm-blades snap forward with devastating speed, aimed at Shiro's exposed chest.

"Shiro!" Nemi launches herself at the guard, hands outstretched.

The guard pivots smoothly, her Gulls swinging in a lethal arc. Blood sprays across the concrete as the blade tears through Nemi's body, leaving a deep gash from shoulder to hip. Nemi crumples to the ground, her amber eyes wide with shock.

"You… stay out of this. This is between me and the captain." She flings blood from her blade, the crimson droplets pattering against the ground.

Nemi clutches her wound, red seeping between her fingers. Her healing powers struggle to knit the massive injury, the Commander’s blade having cut too deep, too fast.

Something snaps inside Shiro at the sight of Nemi's blood pooling on the concrete. Her vision narrows to a crimson tunnel, focusing solely on the Commander.

Shiro launches forward with inhuman speed. The Commander’s blades slash through the air, catching Shiro's shoulder, her ribs, her thigh. But Shiro doesn't feel the cuts. Her wounds heal instantly as she drives forward, talons extended like deadly hooks.

Shiro's claws sink into the Commander’s arm. The Gonydeal armor adapts, plates shifting to protect vulnerable joints, but Shiro's rage gives her strength beyond the armor's capabilities. Her talons pierce through reinforced plating, tearing into the delicate mechanisms of the Gulls beneath.

The Commander screams as Shiro rips away chunks of the cybernetic arms. Wires spark and hydraulic fluid sprays as the first arm-blade comes loose in Shiro's grip. She tosses it aside, the metal clattering across blood-slicked concrete.

Shiro's talons find purchase in her remaining arm. The Commander slashes wildly, opening deep gashes across Shiro's face and neck. But Shiro doesn't blink, doesn't flinch.

The Commander collapses to her knees, sparks flying from her mangled cybernetic arms. Her Gonydeal armor whirs, trying desperately to compensate for the damage, but only manages weak twitches.

Shiro's rage fades as quickly as it came, her talons dripping with hydraulic fluid and blood. The sound of boots echoes through the steam-filled alleys - Bonaparte guards closing in on their position.

She rushes to Nemi's side, carefully lifting her blood-soaked form. Nem's face is pale, her healing powers struggling to keep up with the severity of the wound.

"Hold on." Shiro adjusts her grip, trying not to aggravate the injury. Nem's blood seeps into her sleeves, warm against her scaled hands.

Shiro cradles Nemi against her chest and runs. The guards’ shouts fade into the distance as Shiro disappears into the city's forgotten places, holding her cooling body close. Steam swallows their retreat, leaving only bloodstains on concrete to mark their passage.