Antler Sector, Capital City
The city was massive. Gleaming towers. Hover traffic organized in perfect lanes. Holographic advertisements everywhere. Markets bustling with thousands of species. Parks with artificial waterfalls. Entertainment districts that never slept.
Ruskovitz had given them credits. "Go have fun, kids. You earned it."
And they did.
Amusement Park
Juli screamed as the roller coaster dropped. Pure joy. No fear. Just adrenaline.
Beside him, Kade's fur was standing on end. His claws dug into the safety bar. "THIS IS EXCESSIVE!"
"THIS IS AWESOME!" Juli shouted back.
Behind them, Pam sat calmly despite not seeing the track. Her enhanced senses told her everything she needed to know about the turns and drops. "You're both being dramatic."
Tessa, still bandaged but healing, laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was bright and genuine.
Ruskovitz watched from the ground, shaking his head with a smile. Kids being kids.
Sports Arena
They'd rented a court. Some local game involving a ball and nets and way too many rules.
Juli kicked the ball like his life depended on it. It sailed past Kade's head.
"THAT'S NOT HOW YOU PLAY!"
"IT WORKED THOUGH!"
Pam intercepted with perfect timing despite her blindness. Passed to Tessa. Who fumbled. Caught it. Then threw it wildly.
Somehow scored.
They all stared.
"I... I did it?" Tessa blinked.
"YOU DID IT!" Juli tackled her in celebration. They both went down in a heap.
Kade's competitive nature kicked in. "This contest is FAR from over!"
Ruskovitz refereed, making up rules as he went. Having the time of his life.
Arcade
Competitive racing games. Juli and Kade neck and neck. Elbowing each other. Shouting. Pam somehow beating them both using sound cues alone.
Fighting games. Juli button-mashing. Kade trying to be strategic. Tessa accidentally discovering a special move and winning.
Dance games. All four of them attempting choreography. Failing spectacularly. Laughing until they couldn't breathe.
Ruskovitz bought them snacks. Watched them with the fondness of a grandfather.
Karaoke Bar
Juli sang terribly. Enthusiastically. Some old rock song about heroes and glory. Hit maybe three correct notes.
Kade tried to sing something traditional from Claw Sector. His voice was actually good. But the emotions made it crack halfway through. He pretended sand got in his throat.
Pam sang something soft. Beautiful. Everyone went quiet listening. When she finished, Tessa had tears in her eyes.
Tessa tried next. Nervous. Her voice shaky but sweet. They all cheered like she'd won the tournament.
Ruskovitz did a duet with Juli. Some ancient country song. They were both awful. It was perfect.
They walked through the city as evening fell. Lights coming on everywhere. The air warm. The streets alive.
Just four kids and an old soldier. One night where nothing else mattered.
Tessa held Pam's hand. Kade walked with his hands in his pockets, tail swishing contentedly. Juli had his arm around Ruskovitz's waist (he couldn't reach his shoulders).
"Thank you," Tessa said quietly. "For this."
"You earned it, kid," Ruskovitz replied. "All of you did."
Tomorrow they'd be competitors. But tonight? Tonight they were family.
ARMADA Command Center, Undisclosed Location
The room was dark. Lit only by the holographic displays showing tournament brackets and fighter profiles.
Three figures sat in chairs. Silhouettes. Their faces obscured but their presence undeniable.
The Squad Captains.
"BELLISSIMO!" The first voice boomed with theatrical passion. Masculine. Pure energy. "Madonna mia, that Julian Weiper! Did you SEE him?! The way he MOVES! Like a HURRICANE! Like THUNDER! That boy's got FIRE in his veins! PASSION! That's MY kind of fighter right there!"
Goldberg slammed his fist on the armrest for emphasis. His silhouette gestured wildly.
"Captain Goldberg, thou art ever the enthusiast," the second voice said. Elegant. Feminine. Shakespearean in cadence. Seraphina. "Though I must confess mine own blood, young Lyrielle, hath proven herself most worthy. Thirteen points earned with such grace."
"Your niece? Sì, sì, beautiful fighter! Graceful like a dancer! But THAT BLONDE BRAWLER!" Goldberg stood up, too excited to sit. "That's PASSION incarnate! Raw! Unfiltered! MAGNIFICENT! I want him, Seraphina! I NEED him for my squad!"
"Patience, dear captain. The boy must choose his path."
The third voice spoke. Female. Refined. Every word measured and deliberate. Bianca Rossi. "Polo's performance has been exemplary. Precise. Efficient. As one would expect."
Her tone carried warmth but with an air of confidence. Like her brother. That same duality the RED-haired Titan possessed.
"Exemplary?!" Goldberg spun toward her silhouette. "Your family's little BABY fights like a robot, Bianca! No passion! No joy! Just cold, calculated violence! Where's the FIRE?!"
"Fire without control burns everything, Goldberg. Polo understands restraint. Discipline. These qualities make champions." Bianca's silhouette remained perfectly still. Poised. "Though I must admit..."
She paused, her attention shifting to Julian Weiper's profile.
"The Weiper boy is rather... handsome, isn't he?"
Silence.
Goldberg's silhouette made an exaggerated timeout gesture with both hands. "WHOA WHOA WHOA! Bianca! The kid is FOURTEEN! What is WRONG with you?!"
"I merely observe what is apparent," Bianca replied smoothly, unbothered. "He carries himself with unusual charisma for one so young. Reminds me of someone, actually."
Seraphina's laugh was musical. "Thou dost play with fire, dear Bianca. Goldberg looketh as though he might combust."
"I'm NOT combusting! I'm CONCERNED! That's a CHILD, Bianca!"
"A child who fights like a seasoned warrior," Bianca continued, her tone thoughtful. "Who inspires loyalty in his teammates. Who stands defiant in the face of overwhelming odds. Who carries an emblem I recognize very well."
That got their attention.
"What emblem?" Seraphina leaned forward.
"Nothing of immediate concern." Bianca's voice carried a smile now. That same charismatic warmth her brother could project. "But I will say this—I have surprisingly high expectations for young Julian. Beyond his obvious combat prowess."
"YOU WANT HIM TOO?!" Goldberg threw his hands up. "NO! NO NO NO! I SAW HIM FIRST! WEEKS AGO! I called DIBS!"
"One cannot call dibs on a human being, Captain Goldberg."
"WATCH ME! That boy is MINE! He's got the HEART! The SOUL! The FIRE! He belongs in MY squad where warriors with PASSION thrive!"
"Perhaps," Bianca said quietly. "Or perhaps he belongs elsewhere entirely."
Her silhouette shifted, fingers steepling. "I'll be watching both Polo and Julian very closely during the finals. Very closely indeed."
"Why both?" Seraphina asked carefully. "What connection dost thou perceive?"
"Let's just say..." Bianca's smile was audible. "I find certain patterns... intriguing. Certain coincidences too precise to ignore."
Goldberg was pacing now, his silhouette animated. "Patterns? PATTERNS?! The only pattern I see is ME recruiting the BEST FIGHTER in this tournament! That blonde brawler with the KICKS! The PASSION! The—"
"Yes, yes, we understand your enthusiasm, Goldberg," Bianca said with amusement. "Your desire for Weiper has been noted approximately seventeen times this conversation."
"AND I'LL SAY IT SEVENTEEN MORE! That boy is SPECIAL!"
"On that," Bianca said softly, "we actually agree."
The three captains fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. The holographic displays cycled through fighter profiles. Analyzing. Calculating. Planning.
Goldberg finally sat back down, still muttering about passion and fire.
Seraphina studied her niece's profile with pride.
Bianca remained fixed on two images. Polo Rossi. Julian Weiper. Both carrying pieces of the same puzzle. Both connected to the same man.
Brother, she thought. What have you gotten yourself into this time?
The finals were coming.
And secrets long buried were about to surface.
The storm was gathering.
And soon, it would break.