Why Won´t You Talk To Me?

The morning air in Nyxia was sharp and cold, laced with the faint metallic tang of ozone. Aria exhaled slowly, watching her breath dissipate in the crisp air as she adjusted her bodysuit Neon had given her. It was unlike anything she’d worn in the Militia—sleeker, reinforced with a flexible alloy that moved with her, not against her. The Nyxians had perfected the balance between protection and agility.

Neon stood a few feet away, watching her with his usual impassive expression. He had been quiet all morning, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space between them. The training ground was empty except for them.

Aria rolled her shoulders, settling into her stance. “Alright, let’s do this,” she said, flexing her fingers around the hilt of the Nyxian blade he had handed her earlier. It was different from the weapons she had trained with before. Lighter, but somehow deadlier, its edge humming with a subtle vibration.

She still preferred short daggers to swords and lances. It gave her freedom of movement.

Neon nodded. “Show me what you´ve learnt.”

Aria wasted no time. She lunged, pivoting her weight into a precise strike aimed at his ribs. He sidestepped effortlessly, the motion so fluid it seemed he had anticipated her move before she had even made it. 

She adjusted, shifting her momentum into a feint before slashing upward, but he parried it with a flick of his wrist, his own blade barely making a sound as it deflected hers.

“Predictable,” he muttered. “You fight too rigidly. Better than last week, though.”

Aria grit her teeth. She wasn´t bad, but Neon operated on a different level. His movements weren’t just fast; they were instinctive, effortless in a way that spoke of years of honing his skills beyond the structured patterns of military combat.

“Again,” he said.

For the next hour, he pushed her beyond the limits she had grown comfortable with. He taught her how to flow between strikes, how to break the rhythm of combat to make herself unpredictable. He drilled her on footwork, the way to shift her stance to keep her opponent guessing. He wasn’t just teaching her to fight. He was teaching her to think like a predator.

By the time they finally paused, sweat clung to her skin despite the cool air, her muscles aching from exertion. She dropped beside a nearby pillar, gulping down water from the canteen he tossed her way.

“You’re improving,” Neon admitted, sitting across from her. “But you’re still thinking too much. That’ll get you killed.”

“You just don’t like people who hesitate.” 

Neon’s expression flickered, but he didn’t deny it. “Hesitation is weakness.”

She studied him, the way the Nyxian neon lights cast sharp shadows over his features. There was something about him that had always seemed unreachable, as if he existed just beyond the grasp of anyone who tried to get too close.

It had been two weeks since they arrived in Nyxia, and a little more since they´d met each other for the first time. Despite everything, he still remained an enigma to her.

“You know, for someone who fights like you do, you don’t seem to have anyone around here,” she said casually, watching for his reaction.

Neon didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“I already told you I don’t have friends,” he said finally, his voice flat. “Not anymore.”

Aria frowned. “What do you mean, ‘not anymore’?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I just… stopped hanging around them.”

She studied him for a moment. “Why? Tell me. Why won´t you talk to me?”

He didn’t answer, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Neon.” She leaned in, her voice softer now. “Neon... look at me. What happened?”

His eyes flickered up to meet hers, something guarded flashing behind them. Then, abruptly, he stood up, brushing the dust from his hands. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She didn’t question it, just followed him as he led her through the outskirts of the city. The streets became narrower, quieter, until they reached a district that looked different from the rest of the Nyxian megacity. The neon glow here was dimmer, the buildings older, worn down by time and neglect. It wasn’t abandoned, but it felt hollow. Like a place that had once been alive and had since been left behind.

They stopped outside a run-down warehouse, the heavy doors partially open. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oil and metal. The remnants of old training equipment were scattered around, along with tables covered in half-finished weapon mods and spare parts.

Aria glanced around. “What is this place?”

Neon’s expression was unreadable. “It used to be ours.”

“Ours?”

“Me and my friends,” he said, his voice quieter now. “We used to run jobs together. Train here. This place was home.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I left it behind.”

Aria took a step closer. “Why?”

He hesitated before answering. “Because they changed. Or maybe I did.” He exhaled sharply.

Aria crossed her arms. “That doesn’t sound like the whole story.”

He gave her a wry look. “It’s not.”

A beat of silence stretched between them before Aria finally spoke again. “Do they know you’re back?”

Neon shook his head. “I doubt they care.”

 Aria wasn’t so sure about that. There was something in the air here, an echo of something unfinished.

“You should find out,” she said finally. “Talk to them.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I think,” she said, holding his gaze, “that you don’t want to admit you miss them.”

Neon didn’t answer, but for the first time since she had met him, he looked uncertain.

And that, Aria thought, was a start.

"Follow me," he said. "There´s something else."