Code Nexus

Today, Cassian was to journey to the city of Velthoria, where the Z-Branch was located.

With a passport card in hand, he strode through the streets until he reached the train station.

There, he approached the automated gate to scan his card. After the machine beeped, the workers glanced up and down at him, exchanging uneasy looks, their caution evident on their faces.

This was nothing new for Cassian. In this world, respect had been kneaded into a dough of tyranny due to his surname.

He didn't let their gaze dissuade him. Instead, he walked past with stride as they bowed.

He then boarded the monorail, sitting comfortably in first class. The train hummed before lifting off the ground and propelling forward.

As the landscapes of Xylandor shifted from urban decadence to the expanses leading to Velthoria, he closed his eyes for a moment to steele himself for what lay ahead.

After rattling through the curves of the elevated tracks, the train glided into Velthoria's station a mere thirty minutes later.

Rubbing his hands together to stave off the chill, he stepped onto the platform. He looked up, spotting the dilapidated surroundings of the Z-Branch ahead.

If the AU branches were a tree, Z-Branch would be the dying twig hidden away from the sun.

As he approached, a guard stepped forward. The guard's eyes were bloodshot—it was evident he had not slept much.

"Can I help you?" he asked, both worn out and suspicious.

"I'm here to evaluate the recent incidents you've reported to AU," he plainly stated.

"Was wondering when you'd show up?" the guard huffed after confirming Cassian's card. He didn't even bother looking at his information. "We're suspicious of a lone Bandit stealing our goods. You know we don't have the resources to keep this sector secure?"

"I'm well aware," Cassian replied. "Take me there."

With an unimpressed nod, the guard led the way toward the scene where their resources had been stretched thin.

A tangle of crates was strung across the cement. Cassian began his inspection. The corner of a crate revealed scuffed marks, and there were droplets of liquid left behind. He had an astute awareness of detail.

"Tracks…" he exclaimed, pointing at the ground. "They must have headed toward the ally."

The guard's mouth was slightly ajar in astonishment. Clearly, he hadn't expected Cassian to be akin to that of a detective.

"Should we follow it?" the guard murmured in a daze.

"Don't waste time asking questions," Cassian urged with assuredness. "The thief would have long covered those tracks."

Night began to unfurl.

A silhouette darted out of the shadows and slipped into the branch. Suddenly, the warehouse's interior lights turned on, illuminating crates and dust motes, revealing Cassian's waiting form.

The man turned, revealing a young face: tousled blond hair and blue eyes.

"They say the suspect always returns to the scene of the crime," Cassian coolly remarked.

The man remained silent, stunned that he'd been caught. Yet his eyes said otherwise.

Then, without a moment's warning, the man raised his arm high as a glowing blue hue radiated from his Band!

The temperature plummeted, ice forming not only around the Bandit's feet but rapidly extending across the floor, trying to ensnare Cassian as well.

But Cassian had trained for this. As his body acclimated to the frigid wave, he secretly activated his own Band.

The ice threatened to envelope his body, but in one move, he sprinted forward, breaking it apart.

"What?!" the Bandit shouted.

With a quick jab, Cassian connected with the stranger's jaw. The Bandit crumpled under the force as he fell unconscious, sprawling out beneath a layer of frost.

Breathing calmly, Cassian kneeled beside the man. He was surprised to see what Band this figure was wearing—a Band that marked connection to the rebel group, Libra.

Not much was known about Libra. Such as who their leader was or how many Bandits were situated in their group. To be this close to one of their members was beyond rare.

Intrigue filled Cassian's mind. He could bring this Bandit in and interrogate him. Or he could attempt to sever his hand and take his Band.

But why would he do either? Cassian was neither a part of AU nor agreed with rebel groups. To bring this thief would only be strengthening AU's regime.

Hours passed.

Outside, the moon remained overhead, casting its silver sheen. The Libra member stirred awake beneath the binding of thick cords.

"What... where am I?" he rasped, attempting to move—only to find that he was well secured. His blue eyes met Cassian's, who was standing close by.

"Outside of the warehouse," he calmly replied. "I spared you and chose not to take your Band."

Silence ensued. The man clearly didn't know what to think. How could someone not want to take his Band after seeing its power?

"Are you… Are you AU?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Cassian answered, looking toward the sky.

"What's your deal?" he wondered. "You're supposed to hunt people like me."

Cassian's brow furrowed as he said, "As if I'd be interested in that…"

"Then why let me go?" the rebel wondered.

"Why haven't you used your Band yet to escape?" Cassian shot back.

The man didn't have an answer. He knew he could have used his Band the instant he woke up to freeze the cord and escape. But something intrigued him; he wanted to know why he hadn't arose in a prison as opposed to being outside.

Cassian let the silence stretch longer than he desired. Then he declared, "Give an ear; thou shalt not steal. Those who take from the shadows don't have to be monsters. You're merely a pawn in a broken system." Without wishing to hear the man out, he slowly turned and began to leave.

"Wait…! What's your name?"

Cassian paused and calmly announced his name.

"My name is Cyrus; I won't forget this, Cassian."

"Hmph…" he scoffed, stepping back into the shadow once more.

Cassian eventually returned to the guard, who was half asleep. The guard's posture shifted when he spotted him.

"You're back," the guard said in surprise. "Well? Did you catch him? Did you stop the thief?"

Cassian took a moment, feigning a heavy heart as he read the guard's disappointment and said, "No, he got away…"

The guard's face fell, trying to hide his frustration. He asked, "So, you're telling me all that investigative work you did was for nothing?"

"I wouldn't say that," Cassian relayed. "The way he operated suggests he's been trained. This individual was no common Bandit; he was clever…"

"Clever to get away, sure," the guard repeated. The deflated confidence in his voice mirrored the fall of his shoulders. "And now we have nothing to show for it?"

"Threat not… He's unlikely to return here. He knew what he was doing. He's scouted this area before; he won't make the same mistake again. Consider my coming a threat for him not to come back."

The guard's brows knitted together as he wondered, "You're saying we've made more of an impression than we realized?"

"Exactly," Cassian confirmed. His voice drew the guard's attention, albeit reluctantly.

Processing the implications, the guard dipped his chin. "Well, I'll be. You've got a wise head on those shoulders."

Cassian played off the guard's praise with a practiced smile, appreciating the acknowledgement.

"Glad to have helped. But again, I have to insist we forget I was here."

The guard chuckled at the surreal joke and asked, "What's your name again? I mean surname name."

"Let's just say I'll put in a positive word for you," Cassian answered, closing his eyes. With a nod of understanding, Cassian started to move away.

"See you around, I guess?" the guard called after him.

For the guard's sake, it would be best if he did not meet Cassian again. Who knows what sort of trouble might follow him?

As he stepped back into the city to head to the train station, the thoughts of their interaction replayed in his head. Just who was Cyrus, really? And where did that man acquire such an interesting Band?