– S C O R P I O N –

I did not contact that comm ID that night.

Nor did I the next day. When I took a surprisingly long sleep I awoke and was already heading for the training floor of the safe house tower. A half thought nagged at me since yesterday. The matter of the rebel leader, Hades. Completely dark. No comms. It was unusual but not enough for me to spare time and resources. Not before the operation in two mere days.

The early hours of the morning quietened the sleek white hallways but when I emerged onto the more robust floor of concretes and metals–the room bustled with Division 52.

It had been too long since my body had been put to work this way.

I was quickly noticed as I strode past weight racks and sweating bodies that grunted, snarled and spat every once in a while. Nods and fists pressed to chests. I paid them no mind as I reached one of the raised square platforms and dropped my weapons holster before it.

The two fighters fought quickly and brutally upon it. I did not bother to interrupt them. I watched and learned. I saw the dark skinned opponent in red shorts and thick bands of muscles duck a hasty swing with half a thought from a taller olive skinned man who bore his sweaty chest openly to the world. If it was an intimidation tactic, it had not gone in his favour.

I knew the fight would be over a few seconds before red shorts ducked another sloppy slug and wrapped an arm around his neck, effectively cutting off his oxygen. His opponent flailed embarrassingly before I cut in.

"Enough." I said curtly, cutting through the panting.

Red shorts cut his eyes down to me before widening and he released his hold instantly. His opponent did not get the memo and turned in a blind attempt to seize control of the fight. I had quite enough of this.

I moved with two light steps and threw a round kick into his opponents stomach before he could finish winding up his swing. He dropped to the mat like a sack of rocks. I noticed a few others drop weights around and watch the spectacle.

"You." I said in a bored tone to the nearest meat with arms. "Take him out of my training room and give him to Proximo." I did not specify what for but his attitude would give Proximo all the ideas he needed.

Meaty arms dropped his weights and crossed a fist to his chest. "Yes, Scorpion."

As the sad excuse of his opponent was literally dragged off the mat, red shorts began to swallow and flex his finger wraps. I watched more sweat appear on his dark brows that were not from exertion.

"You're good." I noted as I shrugged off my crimson cloak and bounded lightly onto the mat to face him properly. "Controlled. Calm." I lunged as quick as an asp to jab for his jaw. His head moved with more time than was expected given the distraction.

I smiled slowly at his cautious but calm demeanour. "What's your name?"

I threw a boot at his knee this time and he skipped away entirely on the defensive but holding my burning eyes as I stalked closer.

"Octavius." He said raising his hands lightly to encounter further threats.

I threw two lethal jabs in quick succession and spun with a high kick. His hands parried my knuckles and he dipped back in a smooth dodge so my foot sailed past him. There was even enough time for a counter that he didn't dare take.

I raised a brow at him. "Which squadron are you with?"

I let him speak now without an assault but his keen eyes expected more. "Narcotics traders." His deep voice told me carefully.

"You would be more used to the streets of 15 and 20." I summarised, watching him intently. "Judging by your skill, you have kept a number of those trade routes from delving into busts."

"We have had our share of embedded Silver Sun in ops, yes." He admitted, changing his stance and now favouring his left leg.

"What are you doing so far from operations?" I asked lightly.

He cleared his throat and rebalanced his stance. "I offered support to defend the rebel incursions. Sector 15 can do without its powder for a while." He said offering a small smirk.

Proactive and a sense of humour. Very good news.

"I've seen your defence. Now I want your attack." I said simply in response. He eyed my bare hands and I clicked my tongue. While he doubted the morals of fighting without gloves I moved forward.

He still did not dare to take the first swing so I cut the foreplay and went for his nose. One, two, three and then spun an elbow towards his temple. His blocks were admirable and his forearm only just saved him from a concussion.

His response finally came through and the gloves were proverbially off. He ducked low for a grapple to take me off my feet–instantly deciding he would use weight to his advantage on the floor–I rolled away and cut a leg back towards his jaw.

But I knew it wouldn't land. It was to test space from his longer reach. He steadied his breathing in whatever training mantra he'd been drilled with. But I had no rulebook I paged through. My hands did not guard my face, they gave nothing away as I stalked closer. I fought with improvisation and I could see it contrasting against what he'd been taught.

I threw more feigns and waited on the counter that would come for my stomach–an earlier move he'd used to expel stamina from his opponent. When his arm struck straight, I slid to the side and ducked a leg low between him. The momentum point threw him clear over my shoulder and he landed heavily. More in the room stopped their workouts and huddled the square pit. Grins, murmurs, breathing–they bled into white noise as I appraised Octavius.

He rolled away from his spot expecting me to capitalise, but I didn't. I kept watching. I felt the familiar tear of muscle, the use and demand on areas I had neglected. It was good to feel it again. The burn and the pain of progress.

The wheels were now turning in his mind. He then opted for pure speed. A good choice in hand to hand–against anyone else in the room but myself.

It was a few more seconds before he realised his mistake. I not only mirrored his tactics but went further–built upon his own offence and used it against him. I moved faster than I ever bothered to expose in training. His blows biting nothing but air. My body slipped between jabs and quick knees before I had gained everything I wanted to know.

The next punch he threw I locked between my elbow. As his knee moved, so did I. I threw myself over his shoulder and wrapped a leg across his neck dragging him to the ground in the sudden weight shift. When I pulled his thick arm taught–inches from dislocation–I stilled and released him quickly.

I rolled to my feet swiftly and glared down any onlookers who remained grinning or murmuring. Then I turned back to Octavius who had gotten to his feet. His hand was offered out for me to grasp.

I pulled my wrist holo to my face instead, my eyes not leaving his face.

"What is a sweaty man doing in my office." Proximo said by greeting.

"Dragged from a fighting ring–the man may as well have been ballroom dancing–teach him, please."

Proximo's dark chuckle sounded more than okay with the promise.

"Back on point. Octavius. I want him on my personal guard, thank you." I ended the comm and looked up to see Octavius's jaw had almost dropped out of its socket.

"A rapid fighter but slow on the pickup of promotion." I snorted.

Before he could understand what had happened I turned my back and clipped my weapons back to my hips along with a blood red cloak.

"Scorpion." I heard him murmur behind, by way of goodbye.

I half turned my head and dropped him a nod. "Thanks for the warm up, Octavius."

I will have that man in Sector 1 at week's end. Diego had opened up a vacancy after all... Octavius would be more than able to fill it. Proximo would put him in his paces in the lead up to the charity gala. It made my blood sing with anticipation. Appear in that glass tower with a new face. Behold Makayla Xavier in two days while she had absolutely no idea who was really behind the face of a politician.

The thought made me smile as I moved to the heavy bag asking to be hit.

– M A K A Y L A –

I dove cleanly into the aqua blue water.

The sky pool used to terrify me. The idea of that glass breaking below and falling over one hundred floors in my swimsuit to the pavement somewhere below. But who was I kidding, there wouldn't be much of a swimsuit left at the bottom. The glass rectangle was set into the building and I was certain engineering wise–it would take nothing less than a missile to knock it off.

God, I was such a heathen. I thought as I turned under water and pushed off for another length with my legs.

I took myself deeper. drawing long arm strokes until I could touch the glass floor and look at a blurred mass of cloud drift and building peaks below. I exhaled a fountain of bubbles that eagerly took flight to the air above. My body sank until I could sit on the glass.

I let the burning cry of my lungs continue. Some form of self torture to account for my shitty actions or other such crap a therapist would summarise. To be honest I think it was much more basic than that. I think I really just wanted to feel something other than the emptiness waiting for me on the surface. Under here, I was away from the universe above. Shrouded in watery cover from noise and decisions.

When my reflexes kicked in and took a gasping breath underwater I kicked off the glass and rushed to the top. I choked out a lungful of chlorinated water. It left a satisfying path of fire up my throat. I swam to the edge and pulled myself to sit as an elevator door chimed behind me.

I ignored it and messily ran a towel through my long blonde hair.

"Miss Xavier!" Matty announced cheerily from behind. "I had thought this pool too–um–garish for your liking."

I snorted, still facing the skyline beyond. "My fear of heights lessened rather recently." I said dryly, thinking of a certain free fall 1,000 times higher.

"That is wonderful Miss, I enjoy the exercise myself but I agree with your prior judgement." She said laughing lightly as she came to offer me another larger towel.

I accepted it with a smile and pulled it over my shoulders as I watched the sun dip lower in the sky. Matty fidgeted briefly as if it struggle with her next words. I sighed silently.

"There's something else isn't there." Non rhetorical.

"A charity gala in two days Miss. The most highly regarded amongst the other continents will be in attendance." She said sympathetically, as if a star studded evening with hundreds of thousands of credits expended was my execution.

Wasn't far off.

"Do I get to hide my excitement in a mask?" I drawled sarcastically.

"Just formal wear, Miss." She replied sheepishly.

I looked up at her now. That perfectly pressed uniform and bun in place. Gentle wrinkles creasing her eyes.

"Would you like to assist with my outfit, Matty?"

Her eyes lit up like a thousand christmases. I had never offered to indulge this–let alone my father's social climbing events–but this was for Matty not my genetically similar monster in a suit.

"Oh Miss!" She clapped her hands together. "I will get the designers themselves here to present their best gowns–tomorrow afternoon–no tomorrow morning. We have so much to–" she cleared her throat while I smirked at her and let my mind go blank as I saw a distant fusion craft cut between clouds.

"–and you will look the part. He will be completely aghast."

That made me snap back into reality. "Matty, I will cut you a deal." I told her factually while she looked surprised. "–you can assist my any and every outfit for future events on the one basis that you never speak of my partnership with Tristan other than the contact of my hand slapping the sense out of him." I deadpanned.

Matty looked like she had been choked. I couldn't help the smile that crossed me as she struggled to compose herself and then her uniform. "-I–I–I had thought–" a throat clear, "–I must have misread the chivalry and courtship–"

"That man has all the courtship ability of an Underworld assassin." I responded flatly.

"Miss." Matty said almost scoldingly with what I saw was a flash of a smile hidden in a hand. I rolled my eyes. "Not that you would know firsthand of course." She said implicating.

"Of course." I said with a wink.

Matty shook her head and wrung her hands. "I must adapt to this new Lady of Xavier." She admitted. Then more quietly. "–but I believe I am just as fond of her."

I barked a laugh. "Oh, handmaiden you scoundrel." I falsely scolded.

Matty ignored this and bobbed a curtsy like we had discussed the sunset. "Will that be all Miss?"

"Yes, Matty. I'll let your heart calm before you arrest it entirely."

She fought with a smile and lost. With that she disappeared into the elevator beyond. I slid my wrist holo back in place and caught sight of a missed comm.

"–at 5:25pm, Velron Archeon."

My long sigh turned into a groan. I pulled a tangle of wet hair back over my head and kicked my feet in the water.

"Return comm. Velron Archeon."

"Requesting." A cheery robot informed me.

"Makayla–"

"Allow me." I said quickly. He held his tongue instantly. "What happened with us. That moment, I initiated. This won't happen again. This was something that cannot be–will not. I'm sorry for misleading you but I need to be transparent."

I heard the heavy breath come after before he spoke. "I understand entirely. I will apologise none the less for overstepping."

"You did no such thing–I take this on myself okay?"

"I do not want this to taint our friendship. Truly Makayla I feel I can express myself to you in a way I could not to so many around me. Of course I will understand if it is not returned."

"It is." I said truthfully. "I really did enjoy my time with you, Velron. Which is why I need to be clear now."

"I'm grateful for your honesty. I actually– I also wanted to request your permission to accept the invitation to the charity gala at the end of this week."

I laughed lightly. "Request permission? The Emperor himself invited you. Is that not enough?"

"You know the answer." He said simply.

I smirked. "Yes, Velron. You may attend the charity gala. I fear I will go utterly insane without you." Then I dropped my voice more a conspirator, "I need a bodyguard from Tristan anyway."

"That swine." He sighed. "If it wasn't for that child's bloodline he'd be cast from the autocracy faster than a bastard born."

"Woah. What a burn from the President's son."

"Formalities are reserved for those that deserve them."

"I'm so flattered. Please don't think my candour makes me think you undeserving."

He laughed loudly at that and it made my shoulders relax when I hadn't realised I held them taught. This was more like before–the Velron I could scorn with about pretentious buffoons.

"Believe me, I understand your need for candour now more than ever. I'm glad we could push this aside and remain friends Makayla, truly."

"I could not agree more. I guess I'll see you Saturday in your best suit then?"

"You can count on it Lady Xavier." He said with a grin in his voice. "Try to stay away from the champagne this time."

"I'll be sure to tip one over you." I responded sweetly.

He chuckled. "Good evening, Makayla."

"Good evening, Velron."

And just like that. The prospect of charity gala became that much more bearable. A blur of colour and classic music to be scoffed at with someone who did not have a champagne flute wedged firmly up their own ass.