Cracked armour

(Time: 9.03 am on the day of the date)

The Veteran leaned over his workstation, the soft hum of his computer filling the room as data scrolled across the monitors. His cybernetic arm lay half-repaired on the table, sparking occasionally as he worked on the exposed wiring with his other hand.

The footage of his recent fight played on one of the screens, displaying fragments of Zane and another figure moving through the junkyard. Algorithms ran in the background, analysing and cross-referencing faces with a massive database.

Suddenly, the screen froze, highlighting the other figure: a woman. The program pulled up a nearly blank profile with a name displayed at the top: Kira Valmont.

The Veteran arched an eyebrow, leaning closer to the screen. “Kira Valmont,” he murmured. “I knew she looked oddly familiar.” He glanced at the limited data—just a name and vague physical description, with most of the fields marked as ‘deleted.’

He smirked and switched to Zane’s profile. “And what is her deal with you, kid?” He wondered aloud, his voice low and thoughtful.

A sudden surge of energy made the room vibrate. The Veteran paused, his eyes narrowing as the space filled with blinding white light. He sighed, setting his tools aside. “Took you long enough.”

The light condensed into a humanoid figure, finally revealing Akira. Her emerald eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, and her serene smile carried an edge of disdain as she stepped forward, her elegant form shimmering faintly in the dim room.

“Veteran,” she began, her voice calm and commanding. “You’ve disappointed me.”

The Veteran leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “Well, I’ll add that to the list. What do you want now?”

Akira ignored his sarcasm, her gaze piercing. “Explanation.”

The Veteran raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you want from him? The kid’s cocky, reckless, and barely knows what he’s doing.”

Akira didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she raised her hand, conjuring a small orb of light that hovered just above her palm. The room dimmed further, the orb casting sharp, shifting shadows on the walls as it pulsed with energy. Her eyes softened as she studied the flickering light.

“His power yet is unimpressive,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But his potential…” She tilted her head, her gaze far away, as though seeing something beyond the room. “It’s limitless.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she gazed into the orb, her calm expression faltering. For a moment, the light shifted, forming a vague silhouette within the sphere—something or someone only Akira could see. Her voice softened, losing its sharp edge.

“He reminds me of…” She trailed off, her jaw tightening as her fingers clenched around the orb, extinguishing it in a burst of energy. The light was gone, and her composure returned as swiftly as it had slipped.

The Veteran caught the subtle change, his eyes narrowing. “Got a soft spot for the kid now, do we?”

Akira’s tone hardened, cutting through his words like a blade. “Don’t push your luck. Now, enlighten me.” She stepped closer, her eyes locked on his. “How was someone like him able to defeat you if he’s nothing more than a cocky boy that barely knows what he’s doing?”

The Veteran leaned forward, his smirk fading. “It wasn’t him.”

Her head tilted slightly, her calm demeanour unshaken. “What was that?”

“It wasn’t the boy who defeated me,” he repeated, his voice steady. “I was forced to retreat.”

Akira’s expression darkened, her tone colder. “Am I missing something? If he’s no match for you, what made you run?”

The Veteran hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, with a voice that echoed like a gunshot, he said a single name:

“Kira Valmont.”

The word shattered the air, and the room fell deathly silent. Akira’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing into furious slits. Her calm, collected facade crumbled as rage consumed her features.

In an instant, she closed the distance between them, her hand wrapping around the Veteran’s throat. She lifted him off the ground effortlessly, her grip unyielding as the room seemed to quake under the weight of her fury.

“Don’t,” she hissed, her voice venomous, “ever say that name again.”

The Veteran clawed at her hand, his cybernetic arm sparking wildly, but his grin remained weak yet defiant. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

With a growl, Akira hurled him across the room. He slammed into the metallic wall, leaving a dent as he crumpled to the ground. He groaned, coughing as he tried to push himself upright.

“Is the boy still with her?” Akira demanded, her voice like ice, her figure radiating barely restrained power.

The Veteran wiped blood from his mouth and nodded weakly.

Her expression twisted into a mix of anger and something else—something deeper, more personal. Without another word, she disappeared in a burst of light, the room shaking from her sudden exit.

The Veteran exhaled heavily, dragging himself back to his chair. His gaze drifted to the flickering monitors, showing glimpses of Zane. He stared at the boy’s image, a faint smirk returning to his lips.

“The boy reminds her of someone, huh?” The Veteran muttered.

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the encounter in his mind. Whatever was happening here, it was enough to shake Akira’s unflappable exterior. And that, more than anything, told the Veteran how dangerous this game had become.