The sun beat down on the arena yard, throwing sharp shadows across the ring.
It wasn't much — just an old cargo bay with sand scattered across the metal floor and rusted bleachers circling the pit — but it was alive with sound.
Shouts. Cheers. Laughter.
Lu was already inside, rolling her shoulders and grinning behind the mask. Across from her, a broad-shouldered soldier was bouncing on his heels, eager and reckless.
24 stood near the edge of the ring, arms crossed, the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes.
"Alright, you ready?" the soldier said, raising his fists.
Lu tilted her head slightly. "You sure you are?"
The crowd laughed. Someone shouted, "Don't underestimate the masked one!"
The fight started fast — the man lunged, heavy and overconfident. Lu pivoted, slipped past his arm, and swept his leg in a single, fluid motion. He hit the ground with a thud.
Applause. Whistles.
Lu offered him a hand up, and the soldier took it, rubbing the back of his head. "Guess I walked into that."
"You ran," she replied.
Her next match wasn't much different. A quicker opponent this time, sharper, but she read his movements cleanly — ducked under his hook, tapped him in the ribs, stepped back before his counter even came.
She didn't win with brute force. She won with rhythm.
By the third match, the crowd had shifted from curiosity to excitement. Every time Lu moved, they leaned forward. Every time she landed a strike, the sound of the impact was followed by cheers and laughter.
24 watched in silence.
He wasn't looking at the crowd. He wasn't even watching Lu's opponents. His gaze tracked her footwork, her control, the way her breathing stayed even under pressure.
She's getting faster, he thought. Sharper. Focused.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him — the commander, sitting halfway up the bleachers.
The man wasn't shouting or clapping like the rest. He was relaxed, arms crossed, a small grin tugging at his mouth. Watching. Assessing.
24's expression didn't change, but his mind started moving.
When Lu dropped her last opponent with a clean shoulder throw, she glanced over to 24, waiting for his reaction. He just gave her a slow nod. That was all she needed.
She walked out of the ring, panting slightly, a faint shimmer of sweat on her brow.
"Not bad," 24 said.
"Not bad?" she repeated, mock offense in her tone. "That was three wins."
He smirked faintly. "Then maybe it's time for a real test."
24 stepped up toward the commander, who was still sitting comfortably on the bleachers, watching the ring clear out.
"Commander," 24 said, his voice calm but carrying weight.
The man looked down, one eyebrow raised. "Something on your mind?"
24 nodded toward Lu. "You've got good men here. But I'd like to run a test — one that benefits us both."
The commander leaned forward slightly. "I'm listening."
"I want to see how your best attack team performs against someone they don't expect," 24 said. "And I want you to see how well she's progressed. A real field simulation — controlled, non-lethal. Just skill."
The commander smirked. "You're asking to pit my top squad against your partner? Sounds like you're either very confident… or very cruel."
"Both," 24 replied simply.
The commander laughed. "You don't waste words, do you?"
24 didn't answer. He just held the man's gaze.
After a long pause, the commander exhaled and rose from his seat. "Alright, Ghost. You've got my attention. I'll assemble my best team for your little experiment."
He turned, giving 24 a curious look. "Let's see if your student's as dangerous as you think she is."
24 glanced back toward the ring, where Lu was wiping the sweat from her brow, completely unaware of what was about to come next.
"She's more than dangerous," he said quietly. "She's ready."
The commander smiled thinly. "We'll see about that."