Nova's Blade

Chapter 26

The skyline of the city dances with the neon lights of towering buildings, intertwining with the fading rays of the setting sun. The apartment is filled with the soft sounds of laughter and the delicious aroma of cooking wafting from the compact, futuristic kitchenette.

Leander, his cybernetic arm concealed under the fabric of his casual clothes, is down on the floor, piloting a small remote-controlled drone. It hovers in the air, creating bright holographic images, enchanting the room with a myriad of colors. Gaia, her cherubic face illuminated by the gentle glow, claps her little hands in delight, squealing with laughter as the drone whizzes above her head, its lights twinkling like a swarm of luminous fireflies.

Nova, now a budding pre-teen, chuckles from her perch on the plush sofa, her fingers deftly moving across the screen of her tablet. She's sketching a digital portrait of this familial scene, capturing their joy in every bold stroke and delicate detail. Her bright eyes are dancing with mirth, the light of the tablet reflecting in them, making them shine like twin moons.

Atira, the heart of this home, stands in the kitchenette. The holographic recipe display flickers with various dishes, but she disregards them, preferring her own traditional cooking methods. The smell of her famous spicy stew fills the apartment, the scent a comforting presence against the metallic sterility of the city outside.

"Dinner's ready!" she announces, placing a large bowl of the steaming stew onto the dinner table. The holographic lights fade away as she waves her hand over the sensor, returning the room to its soft, homey glow.

Leander, who had been pretending to let the drone get the best of him, turns it off and hoists Gaia onto his shoulders. She squeals with glee, her babyish laughter ringing out in the apartment.

"Food! Food!" She claps her hands excitedly.

Nova quickly saves her sketch and hops off the sofa, moving towards the table. Leander, with Gaia still riding high on his shoulders, joins them. As he lowers Gaia into her high chair, Atira serves the stew into their plates, the spicy aroma mingling with the warmth of their home.

"We should do a toast," Leander suggests, raising his glass of sparkling water. Gaia mimics him, shaking her sippy cup enthusiastically.

"A toast," Atira agrees, her hand finding Leander's across the table. She turns to their daughters, a tender smile on her face. "To family."

Nova grins, her eyes sparkling, raising her own glass.

"To family," she echoes.

Gaia, not quite understanding but enjoying the excitement, lets out a happy shout, spilling some of her drink but adding to the joy of the moment.

As they clink their glasses together, their laughter fills the apartment, drowning out the hum of the city outside.

***

Nova emerges from the mansion. A worn-out hoodie conceals her intricately braided hair, while shaded glasses shield her intense emerald eyes. Clasping a bag tightly, the tension in her wiry, muscled arms visible even beneath her clothing.

As her boots hit the cold, damp pavement, her gaze lands on Octavius. He's leaning against his hover car, its sleek, metallic contours shimmering under the diffused glow of the sunlight. His presence catches her off guard, heart pounding a staccato rhythm in her chest as her grip on the bag tightens.

"Nova," Octavius intones, his voice a deep baritone, echoing his privileged upbringing. "Training can be relentless, I know. But I was hoping we could have a moment for a conversation."

"About?" Nova's single-word response betrays her suspicion, her voice as hard and unyielding as the city that surrounds them.

"The future. Your upcoming matches. Ways I could possibly assist." Octavius replies, a blend of formality and sincerity in his words.

Nova's forced smile barely masks the unease simmering beneath.

"I appreciate it Octavius, but our debt's paid. We're squared."

His sigh is almost lost in the ocean's hum.

"It's not about the debt, Nova. I want you to come out on top, all things considered. Maybe a discussion could-"

"I'm touched, Octavius." Her voice is edged with something akin to regret. "But I have been given bye for the third round because of my fight with Siren. I'm taking this time to see my family back home."

Octavius' surprise is profound.

"I... see."

Ignoring his crestfallen expression, Nova strides towards another hover car. As she slides into the machine, Octavius manages to stutter,

"Perhaps when you return-"

"I'll be occupied with training," she cuts him off, her voice muffled by the closing door of the car.

As her hover car ascends into the sky, Octavius is left watching, a solitary figure bathed in the light. Inside the rising vehicle, Nova gazes down at the island below, a sudden storm of thoughts whirling inside her mind. The heavy thump of her heart rings in her ears, echoing the unspoken distress she carries within.

Octavius stands in an obsidian-black room, sparse, save for the luminous floor lights sketching a grid pattern below. His heartbeat syncopates with the dim, pulsating glow, as he nervously waits. Suddenly, a holographic projection of Nero sparks to life, a towering, spectral giant dwarfing the room. Nero's eyes, like two distant moons in a starless night, rest upon Octavius, their tranquillity shrouded in detachment.

"Yes?" Nero's voice rings out, crisp and devoid of warmth.

Octavius swallows, his throat dry.

"It concerns Nova," he manages.

The arch of an eyebrow lifts on Nero's holographic face.

"The Valkyrie? The one whose father fell during the siege?"

"Yes, her," Octavius confirms. "Do you remember what happened that day?"

"Overran. Our defenses crumbled, countless lives extinguished. What's your point?"

"I think...I believe it influences how she perceives me," Octavius stammers, "She shies away from any conversation, as if fearful."

"Perhaps she's apprehensive," Nero offers, his voice no more than a disinterested murmur.

"But do you recall who her father was? In detail?"

A contemplative silence stretches.

"Leander, that was his name. High-ranking security operative."

Octavius clings onto the information.

"I've always been puzzled, father. With our state-of-the-art technology, our impenetrable fortress that is Firestone Industries... How could we suffer such monumental losses?"

Nero's holographic gaze holds Octavius.

"A miscalculation in security. It proved costly."

"Did survivors hold you accountable?" Octavius presses, his voice audibly strained.

Nero's usually calm eyes show a brief, unusual hint of disturbance. He steeples his fingers together, his brows furrowing as if he's navigating through a maze of memories. His chest rises and falls with a silent sigh.

"Prior to the incident, there were murmurs about our security system," Nero admits, a flicker of remorse tracing his words. "We dismissed it as non-essential. Our complacency led to tragedy. Some people, possibly including Nova, may harbor resentment, blaming me for their loved ones' deaths. That could explain her wariness around you."

"But those feelings didn't stop her from participating in the show, did it?" Octavius asks, a trace of bitterness creeping into his tone.

Nero pauses, studying his son's pixelated image.

"The allure of money and power causes people to forgo their feelings to get it."

As the holographic clock in Nero's vicinity chimes the hour, he glances at it.

"I must attend to other matters."

The hologram flickers and fades, leaving Octavius alone in the blackened room, his mind swimming in his father's revelations.