The morning sun filtered through the curtains, softly lighting the room. Marcus opened his eyes with a start; his head ached, and the tension from the previous night still lingered.
At the doorway stood Tomás, his younger brother, thirteen years old, with messy black hair and the same gray eyes as Marcus. He looked at him with a mischievous smile, full of morning energy.
"Get up, sleepyhead!" Tomás said. "Breakfast is ready."
Marcus rubbed his eyes and slowly got up. The smell of freshly baked bread and coffee invited him out of bed. Tomás ran ahead, guiding him to the kitchen.
There, their mother and sister Alice were waiting. Their mother had long black hair and dark, sharp eyes that seemed to assess everything with a calm, calculating intelligence. Her demeanor was composed, almost cold, yet beneath it lay a layer of deep concern. Alice was sixteen, with straight blonde hair and gray eyes reflecting the same determination as Marcus. She was helping set the table while watching her older brother curiously.
When she saw Marcus, her gaze immediately fell on his hands. His knuckles were red, marked from the fight the night before.
"Marc…" said his mother, her voice calm but edged with seriousness. "Was it them? Your father's debt collectors? Did they chase you again?"
Marcus hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange discomfort at saying the word "Mom".It sounded almost foreign on his tongue, yet he forced it out.
"Yes Mom… this time I couldn't escape," he admitted with a sigh. "I had to fight."
Tomás, smiling proudly and oblivious to the gravity, exclaimed:
"But Mom! Marc is the best! Nobody messes with him!"
Alice stepped a little closer, frowning with concern:
"Marcus… it wasn't the smartest choice to fight. That will only make them angrier and could make things worse."
Their mother's lips pressed into a thin line, a mixture of frustration and control.
"Tomás, now is not the time for praise… Marcus, listen to your sister. This isn't a game."
Marcus nodded slowly, taking a sip of his coffee. He felt the weight of his family's concern, but also the quiet, calculating presence of his mother, reminding him that rash actions had consequences.
"I understand, Mom…" he said finally, the words feeling oddly formal on his tongue. "I promise I'll think more before acting."
Tomás adjusted in his chair, still full of pride and innocence. Their mother, though slightly reassured by Marcus's words, remained composed, her mind clearly weighing the risks ahead.
"Just… we all need to help protect each other," she murmured, her tone even and controlled. "All of us."
Marcus nodded again.
"I will… but now I have to go to work. I can't let things stop."
He stood up from the table, grabbed his jacket, and gave a brief nod to his mother and sister. Tomás looked at him with that same mixture of pride and innocence that always made Marcus smile.
With one last glance at the kitchen, Marcus left the house. Outside, Marcus mounted his electric bike, put on his helmet, the morning air brushing against his face. With a firm push on the throttle, he set off down the street, heading toward work.
VIRELIA TRANSFORMER NEXUS-7
The meeting room was austere and meticulously organized, bathed in a bluish light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. A large screen occupied one side of the room, displaying images and streams of data with surgical precision. The room was silent, almost empty, except for the two figures standing before the screen.
The white-haired woman sat in an ergonomic chair at the table, dressed in a flawless black suit. Her posture, straight and calculated, radiated authority and control, while her blue eyes scanned every detail on the screen with cold focus. The display next to the fight footage flashed Marcus's profile:
Name: Marcus Greyson
Age: 19
Occupation: Apprentice Mechanic
Address: 42 Elmwood Avenue, Central District, City of Virelia.
Family:
Father: Marcus Greyson (deceased)
Mother: Lillian Greyson, works in a cleaning job in the city
Siblings: Tomás Greyson and Alice Greyson, both students
Next to her, a black man in black leather pants and a white tank top remained relaxed, leaning lightly against the wall, arms crossed, a slight smile playing on his lips as if he were watching an entertaining show
The screen replayed Marcus's fight against the three men who had pursued him the previous night. His movements were fast and precise: he dodged attacks, countered with controlled strength, shifted positions with agility, and constantly assessed his opponents. Each strike showed coordination and resilience, and his ability to adapt to combined attacks indicated a high level of survival instinct.
—Check out that feint right before he strikes —said the black man, his voice calm, almost humming—. Looks like he's backing off, right? But bam… right there, he hits them. Perfect timing.
The white-haired woman tilted her head slightly, studying each movement from her seated position.
—His composure is remarkable. Even under pressure, he stays calm, and that allows him to read his opponents clearly. He knows they underestimate him and uses that to his advantage.
—Yeah, seriously —the black man replied, shrugging and tilting his head—. And for someone so young, he's crazy calm. Most people his age would panic, but he just… rolls with it. It's like he's playing with them, thinking one move while they fall for another. Brutal, but clever.
—Exactly —the woman said, her tone icy—. Every move is calculated, every strike deliberate.
Her blue eyes locked on him, unwavering.
—It's the right moment David. Do it as soon as possible.
The black man blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his relaxed expression.
—Really? Now? —he murmured, a note of incredulity in his calm tone. Then, a slow grin spread across his face——Got it.
Without another word, he slipped into the shadows of the room, vanishing into the darkness.
The woman remained seated for a moment, cold and focused, before leaving the room, leaving it in complete silence.