The room was small, windowless, and cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.
It wasn’t quiet.
It was suppressed — the way an airlock might feel between a vacuum and a battlefield. The kind of place where conversations weren’t heard, they were catalogued.
Every surface glead matte-black and smooth — too perfect for fingerprints, too seamless for echoes. The lights in the Zodiac Command Annex ran colder than the rest of the academy. Here, illumination was an act of surveillance, not comfort.
Leo stood still at the obsidian-glass table in the center of Secure Chamber V-4.
The only sound ca from the soft pulse of the incoming holo-channel, illuminating the etched Zodiac crest on the wall behind him.
Then — the signal stabilized.
A torso blinked into projection across the table. Hooded. Featureless. The voice ca through five layers of encryption and tonal distortion, perfectly flat and void of emotion.
"You’ve been slow to report."
Leo didn’t blink.
He let the voice fill the silence.
"District 3 was too clean. Your cadet’s response ti was exact. Too exact."
Leo’s fingers flexed once behind his back. No reaction on his face.
"You’re not here to complint my picks," he said.
"Is the asset aware of what he is?"
Leo’s gaze didn’t flicker. "The asset is a cadet."
"Is the cadet aware of what he was?"
Silence.
Not hesitation — decision.
In the corner, behind a wall of polarized glass, Commander Ryl watched. Arms folded, weight centered, still as an unsheathed blade.
Leo stepped closer to the table, his voice lowering. "You didn’t call for updates. You called for permission."
The figure did not confirm — it didn’t need to.
"If the asset is unstable, we’ll handle it."
Leo’s jaw moved once. A slow grind, like steel under pressure.
"aning what?" he asked.
"You know what it ans."
The room darkened further as the projection’s tone sharpened.
"We’ve seen patterns like this before. Controlled violence. Tactical perfection. Suppressed affect. Rehearsed trauma. Those don’t belong in students."
Leo walked around the table, his voice calm.
"If you knew what he really was," he said, "you wouldn’t try to control him."
"Are you protecting him?"
"No." Leo stopped. "I’m watching him."
A longer pause.
Then, quieter:
"You’ve grown attached to anomalies before."
Ryl shifted slightly behind the glass. One eyebrow twitched — not from surprise, but recognition.
Leo didn’t answer right away. When he did, it ca with iron:
"A soldier who survives the wrong war becos a weapon no one owns."
"Then make sure it points in the right direction."
The projection blinked out.
The table’s light faded. The silence after was deeper than before.
Leo didn’t move.
Then:"Tell Camilla to prep a non-lethal containnt team. Level Four. Eyes-only. No docuntation."
Ryl stepped out of the shadow. Her voice was low.
"For Hernan?"
Leo didn’t answer right away.
Then:"No. For whoever thought they were smart enough to test him without asking."
She studied him. "And if he retaliates beyond scope?"
Leo finally turned.
"If he breaks..." he said, "then we’ll know."
"Know what?"
"That he’s not just his father’s son." A beat. "He’s his own war now."
"And if he doesn’t?"
Leo’s voice turned quiet — the quiet he used before killing things.
"Then we’ve already lost the leash."
The night air on the Training Annex D rooftop was wrong.
Too even. Too crisp.
Simulated. Controlled. Cold.
Hernan stepped into the center of the arena, eyes scanning with surgical calm. His boots made no sound on the alloy plating. Around him, the cityscape shimred under false starlight — a sky manufactured to make cadets feel like heroes while they bled.
But this wasn’t a simulation.
He knew it the mont the rooftop door hissed shut behind him and locked.
The periter lights dimd. The arena sensors didn’t ping active status.
There was no instructor.
That was the first sign.
The second followed fast.
Five shadows broke from the roof’s edge — synchronized. Precision trained.
Cadets, but not in Academy-issue gear.
Thinner armor. Prototype glyphing on their backs. Modded helts. Black visors.
Private contract gear. Not for training. Not for show.
They circled him like wolves taught to wear Zodiac skin.
Hernan said nothing.
The earpiece buzzed with white static — his comm line scrambled.
He spoke anyway, voice even.
"Who signed this op?"
No answer.
Just helts tilting in tandem, like they were waiting for him to blink.
He didn’t.
They moved first.
One lunged — no warning, no protocol. The baton in his hand shimred with ion current. A hit to the head would’ve wiped mory.
Hernan sidestepped.
Snapped the attacker’s wrist.Spun him into the second cadet’s firing path.The stun shot hit the wrong armor.
Disard the second with a forearm to the neck.Throat plate shattered.Down.
Three remained.
One flanked. One shifted high for rooftop elevation. One held position.
Smart. Fast.
Not enough.
He ducked a high shot, rolled toward the flank, clipped the kneecap from behind, rose mid-motion and jabbed the shoulder socket. The shock baton flew out of the cadet’s hand and over the edge.
Two left.
The fourth ca in wild — emotion cracked the surface. Rookie mistake.
Hernan t him with a pivot elbow to the visor, then locked his jaw with a backspin knee.
Down.
Only one stood — tall, steady, the leader.
Held a shock-blade.
Better footing. Not impulsive.
"You’re the cleanup man," Hernan said.
The cadet didn’t reply.
Just lunged.
Hernan let him.
Caught the strike at the wrist, twisted — fast, brutal — and stopped half a milliter from driving the blade into the shoulder’s kill nerve.
Held it there.
Breath low.
Let him feel it.
Then released.
The cadet stumbled back, stunned.
Hernan stood.
Straightened his collar. Wiped blood off his knuckles onto his uniform.
Then turned to the small cara drone blinking red under the ergency light.
He stared straight into it.
"If that was a test," he said, his voice cold,"...you failed."
He didn’t wait for a response.
He walked to the door.
It unlocked.
Not by schedule.
By soone watching.
Deep in the Zodiac command grid, a red light turned orange.
ESCALATION REQUIRED.
And sowhere, Leo whispered:
"Now we find out who started the fire."
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