The boy trembled.
His chest rose and fell in frantic bursts, lungs gasping for air they couldn't hold.
His hands clung to cold armor, fingers digging into the grooves like he feared the titan might vanish if he let go.
Maverick didn't move.
The boy pressed his face to the steel. His voice cracked when he spoke.
"T-Thank you. They were gonna kill me. First my clothes… then—then me—"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
Maverick looked down.
Slow. Silent.
The reflection of the boy's fear gleamed faintly across his visor.
Then—without a word—he lifted a single hand.
The gauntlet hovered for a breath above the boy's head.
Then lowered.
Heavy. Gentle. Final.
His voice came through the helmet—
Not booming.
Not loud.
Just absolute.
"You're safe."
The boy looked up. His eyes wide with disbelief.
And then—he smiled. A real, trembling smile.
He stepped back.
Wiped his nose.
And ran.
Not out of fear.
But into a future that, for the first time in a long time, felt possible.
Maverick remained still.
For a moment, all was quiet.
Then—
He lifted his head.
His visor scanned the horizon.
Screams pierced the stillness. A low rumble echoed in the distance.
Explosions. Fire. Chaos.
Across the shattered cityscape, far above the rooftops, platforms shimmered in the rising smoke.
Ship-docks. Civilian evac points.
Under attack.
And without hesitation—
Maverick moved.
He crouched—
Servos in his legs winding, locking.
The ground beneath him cracked.
And then—
He leapt.
Up—
Through smoke, over broken towers, into the rising inferno.
Toward the next fight.
___________________________________
The platform was on fire.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Fires bloomed across the deck like hungry mouths, licking at the edges of loading ramps and supply crates. Civilians screamed as they scrambled for cover—parents clutching children, soldiers dragging wounded, chaos everywhere.
Above it all, one ship's engines powered up.
Its turbines whined with desperation, flames curling beneath the launch ramp.
Seven men moved around the vessel. Not evac crew. Not soldiers.
Thieves.
Predators.
Cowards looking to escape while others burned.
And then—
he landed.
The platform shook.
Maverick's boots struck steel with enough force to crack the surface. Smoke peeled away from him like it feared to cling.
People turned—
And stared.
Not at a savior.
Not at a soldier.
At a force.
He didn't look at them.
His visor scanned the flames crawling toward the fleeing crowd.
Without a word, he turned—ripped a water pipe from the wall like it was twine—
and directed the geyser of pressurized coolant across the blaze.
Screams turned to silence.
Panic turned to awe.
He dropped the pipe.
Turned again.
Now—the ship.
Two of the rebels spotted him.
"It's one'a them! Open fire!"
Rounds sparked off his chest like rain off iron.
Maverick didn't flinch. Didn't slow.
He reached them in four strides.
Raised a single arm.
Two bodies. One swing. Silence.
He reached into a compartment at his hip—
pulled a small black sphere.
Pressed once. Threw.
The orb cracked mid-air—
unfolding into a net of needle-threaded metal that slammed down on the two men.
It drilled into the platform with six burning spikes, anchoring them to the steel.
Immobilized. Screaming. Not dead. Just done.
The ship lifted.
Engines flaring.
Pilots panicked.
Maverick moved.
He grabbed a rear strut bar as the vessel lifted—
and pulled.
The ship screamed. Metal bent.
And the entire craft slammed back onto the deck with a thud of finality.
He drove his fist through the engine casing like it was paper.
Sparks. Smoke. Silence.
He walked calmly around the wrecked hull.
The remaining five rebels were already off their feet.
They dropped their weapons. Raised their hands. Dropped their knees.
They didn't beg.
They didn't speak.
They just surrendered.
Maverick secured them with speed and precision.
Then tapped a symbol on his wrist.
"Target neutralized. Transport requested."
No flourish. No pride.
Just data.
The signal was received.
Orders acknowledged.
Without another look—
Maverick turned toward the temple.
The civilians watched him in reverent silence as he stepped to the edge of the platform—
crouched—
and leapt.
One mile in a single bound.
Steel cracked beneath him at launch.
Dust exploded where he landed.
And then, like a myth returning to the stone it came from—
he walked back inside the temple.
Time for orders.
The real mission awaited.