/~Contrario~/
The infirmary lights buzzed overhead, sterile and unforgiving. I sat on the edge of the cot, fingers flexing slowly, testing the nerves. Most of the burns had healed. The bruises were gone. But deep down, something still ached, it was a phantom weight from that buried memory-dungeon.
And then suddenly my mind drifted to her, "I should talk to her, I still haven't said anything to her since that night"
A nurse clipped a data pad to the foot of my bed. "You're cleared for duty, Contrario. No combat for the next 48 hours and you're good to go."
I nodded silently, sliding off the bed. As I adjusted my jacket and stepped out into the hallway, I felt like a man stepping back into a war that never really stopped. "What is the purpose of this world anyway?"
The hall curved right toward the exit, but I stopped.
She was there, why was she there?....Jennifer.
Leaning against the wall outside the medbay door, arms crossed, her hair tied back in a loose braid. She wasn't wearing her usual combat or leader jacket. Just a simple black jacket over a sleeveless vest. But her presence? Commanding and cold as always.
I had it in mind to talk to her but now, I felt I had nothing to say.
"Glad to see you walking again," she said, voice casual.
"Barely actually," I muttered, brushing past her.
But she caught my sleeve.
"Contrario. I need to talk to you. Come to my office."
I glanced at her, then around the empty hallway. It was then I realized it has been quiet around us all along. Too quiet.
"I don't mean to be rude but I don't feel like talking right now, can we do this another time?" I asked.
"I'm not asking," she said, already turning on her heel.
I reluctantly followed her through the corridor to the command wing. Her office was on the top floor, cleaner than most, full of trophies from past missions and outdated holo-posters of old team members. I hadn't been inside there in a while. I didn't like what the room reminded me of.
She gestured toward the chair opposite her desk and sat.
I didn't.
"You wanted to talk?" I said, crossing my arms.
Jennifer leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Do you know how many squads we've lost in the last four months, Contrario?"
I didn't answer. I didn't expect this to be what she would talk about.
"Eleven," she said. "And two more MIA. This war we're fighting? The game's rules keep shifting. Every day I get a new briefing about some rogue AI breaking the faction treaty, or black-market avatar mods showing up from deleted zones. And base just keeps sending fresh recruits to replace the dead."
"That's war," I said flatly.
"No," she said, voice rising. "That's chaos. And I'm expected to hold it together. Every mistake, every death, it lands on my desk. You think you carry weight?" She let out a dry laugh, "Try wearing my boots for a day."
I stepped forward, eyes locked on hers. "Is that really why you called me in here? To tell me things I already know?"
"No," she snapped. "Because I feel you're the only one who doesn't lie to me. Everyone else tiptoes around what they think I want to hear. You? You spit the truth even when it cuts."
My fists clenched slightly. "What truth do you want today?"
She paused. Looked at me. Not as a leader. Not as some figurehead of Nova's resistance.
Just....as Jennifer.
"I'm tired, Con," she said quietly. "I know something's coming. Something worse than all of this. And I can't hold this place together alone."
"Alone" I whispered under my breathe.
The shift in her tone caught me off guard and softened me a little.
"You're not alone, you've got clans under you" I said, voice low. "But if you keep carrying every death like it's yours, you'll break."
Her eyes flickered to the side. "It's easy for you to say because you don't carry command."
I moved closer. "No. But I carry ghosts that yell in my sleep. We all do."
Silence lingered between us. Not awkward, just heavy silence.
She finally looked up again. "How'd you survive it?"
"The dungeon?"
"No. Everything. The burden. The past. The scoffs and scorn, Contrario, how do you always stay happy." she asked, staring right into my soul.
"I just believe happiness is an illusion, I create my own illusion and set the rules"
"Really, and did you ever lose your fire sometime?" She asked again, adjusting her pose.
I took a slow breath. "I didn't. Not really. I just keep moving. Keep fighting. Hoping one day I'll feel whole."
Jennifer leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "You think we'll win the tournament?"
"We must win the tournament, a lot would die" I said. "But we might survive the pain of their death. Suddenly at this age I have no issue with losing people anymore."
She gave a weak chuckle. "God, you're always like this."
I turned for the door, but paused.
"You didn't ask about what happened in V-43," I said.
"I didn't need to," she replied. "I already know it was hell. Whatever you found… if you ever want to talk about it, my door's open."
That wasn't exactly what I had in mind to say but since she didn't get the signs, I just had to let it be.
I looked back at her. "Some doors should stay closed, Jen."
Then I left, leaving behind the burdened leader, the ghosts on her desk, and the question neither of us could answer:
How much longer could we hold out before the cracks split us wide open?
—------
Meanwhile in Nova City.
It was past midnight in Nova City, the skyline was pulsing with the rhythmic hum of neon and electric fog. From the glass-tinted tower that overlooked the heart of the metropolis, Vance Julio stood like a silent storm, the champion of champions, the iron spine of Nova's countless clans.
He wasn't armored now. No holographic gauntlets or sector-forged boots. Just bare skin, slick with sweat, pressed into warm sheets tangled around two bodies.
"You always know how to distract a warlord," she whispered, her breath brushing his jaw as her fingers dragged down the lines of muscle across his abdomen.
He smirked, deep and slow like a man who knew the taste of control and willingly gave it up for moments like this.
"Well maybe I just love losing to you," he said, his voice low and rough.
The city's digital glow cast moving shadows across their bodies, dancing like embers as they moved again more gently now, with less urgency and more intent. For a moment, he wasn't a ruler or a champion. He was just Vance. Tired. Hungry. Horny.
For a while, they lay quietly with her head on his chest, his hand lustfully tracing the curve of her back.
"You know this can't last," she murmured.
"Nothing ever does, we just have to enjoy the moment and hope he never finds out." he replied.
But he didn't move. Neither did she.
The sheets were warm, their bodies warmer. The curve of her thigh was hooked over his hip, and Vance hadn't moved in minutes, not out of exhaustion, but out of something heavier. Something unspoken.
Her fingers danced idly over his chest, tracing the faint scars that told stories he never had. "You're quiet tonight."
He gave a half-laugh. "Even champions get tired."
She looked up at him, her hair tumbling against his chest. "Tired? Or scared?"
Vance shifted his gaze to the ceiling, watching nothing. "What would I be scared of?"
"Of needing someone."
The silence that followed was thicker than any armor Nova's tech labs could forge. And then he rolled toward her, pinning her beneath him with slow, deliberate motion. Their eyes locked with him over her. His hand found her wrist and pulled it gently above her head. His other hand grazed her waist, thumb skimming bare skin.
"I don't need anyone," he whispered, but his mouth contradicted the words as it found hers again, kissing her slowly and deeply.
She didn't believe him. He could feel it in the way her body yielded but her heart held back, like a woman who'd fallen into this trap before and hadn't quite climbed out. Still, she responded with equal heat, her lips parting to welcome him back in. The kiss grew wild again, one hand in his hair, the other clawing lightly at his back.
She soon broke free from him and walked over to the edge of the bed holding his hand beckoning him to come with her.
Vance couldn't believe the player in his room who every other player was scared of was now kneeling before him with her tongue begging to taste him.
"Kyra, are you sure about this?" Vance asked.
"Just shut up and don't ruin the moment you muscles for brain" she said as she grabbed his sack in her battle worn hands.