Legacy Chapter III (WIP)

Chapter III: Trojan Distraction

Skia found his sister sitting at the desk in his suite overlooking the main floor of the Koremesu nightclub. She lounged in his plush office chair, a jaded expression on her face as she cycled through the night’s news coverage. The day had long since turned to night by the time he finally regrouped with Lyshaia.

"So, are you done having fun?" Lyshaia sighed, not looking away from the glowing screen.

Skia smirked. "My desires have been satiated, yes."

She pulled her feet up onto the seat, sitting upright as she fluttered her fingers across the keyboard. A new tab opened, displaying footage of Elliot Sternis Hitch addressing the press outside a newly constructed corporate headquarters. The timestamp indicated that the event had taken place earlier that day, prior to the anniversary of the Xeno Wars.

In the recording, Elliot emerged from the massive building’s sleek, reinforced front doors and positioned himself behind a waist-high podium. He ran a hand through his graying chestnut hair, his fingers lingering momentarily at his smooth, clean-shaven chin. His usual strong demeanor was intact, but there was a subtle weight of unease in his posture.

"Greetings, members of the press…" Elliot began calmly. "I stand before you today to introduce the site where our AI infrastructure will be securely maintained."

Lyshaia paused the video and turned to Skia, her crystalline eyes gleaming with triumph.

The corporate mainframe, officially designated G0M3-40, was the nerve center of the corporate establishment. All classified data on the eight ruling corporations was stored within its vast digital network. G0M3-40 was the system that held it all.

"Do you know what this means?" Lyshaia grinned. "We finally have a chance to bring this entire system to its knees."

That caught his interest, though he remained skeptical. "And you trust the intel?"

"Of course," she said, leaning back with confidence. "I’ve had our sources looking into this for a while."

Skia raised a brow. "Since when?"

Lyshaia smirked. "While you were skulking around Wilson Tactical."

He exhaled through his nose. "I assume these sources are legitimate?"

"Skia, please," she scoffed. "You think I’d be stupid enough to stake our lives on bad intel?"

He remained silent, running through the implications. G0M3-40 wasn’t just a database—it was the digital lifeline of the corporate order. If they could breach it, extract its secrets, or better yet, cripple it, they could tilt the balance of power in the Archimedes Nebula.

But getting inside Trojan—the building housing it—was another matter entirely.

"They won’t just let us waltz in," Skia pointed out.

Lyshaia’s grin widened. "You think I didn’t plan for that?" She tapped another window open, revealing a blueprint of the building. A route was already highlighted. "There’s an unmanned ventilation hatch on the far upper-right quadrant."

Skia cocked his head. "Convenient."

"Isn’t it?" she teased.

His gaze lingered on the name of the building: Trojan. "I wonder if Hitch realizes the historical significance of that name."

Lyshaia chuckled. "Doubtful. The corporations erased most of history after the coup."

Before Skia could respond, a sudden burst of gunfire erupted from the floor below.

Lyshaia instinctively ducked away from the observation window. Skia moved toward the balcony, careful to stay in the shadows, and peered down. Several heavily armed Heliocorp soldiers stormed through the club’s entrance, their plasma rounds striking the ceiling. Neon sparks rained down as patrons screamed and threw themselves to the floor. Within seconds, the entire first floor was under corporate control.

"That’s not good," Lyshaia muttered.

Skia was already moving. He yanked open a ventilation grate on the far wall and gestured for her to follow. They crawled through the tight passage, maneuvering through ducts and maintenance shafts until they emerged onto the rooftop. The situation was worse than expected.

Heliocorp forces had sealed the surrounding streets. Floodlights cut through the night, illuminating the rain-slicked rooftops. The twin moons of Helion III loomed overhead, their pale glow distorted by the shimmering city skyline.

Lyshaia exhaled sharply. "We’re pinned."

Skia turned toward the rooftop entrance—a door at the top of a stairwell, the only direct access point. It lacked a proper barricade, but Skia was always prepared. He retrieved a disc-shaped device from an unseen pocket and slapped it onto the door’s surface. The charge armed with a faint beep.

"That should slow them down," he murmured.

Lyshaia was already crouched on the railing, her gaze focused downward. "Follow my lead."

With that, she dropped over the edge.

Skia hurried to the ledge, watching as she mantled onto the barely visible outline of their Nexus-class ship. Even without the benefit of a stealth suit, she moved with perfect precision. He had to admit, she was good.

Impressed, Skia vaulted over the side, landing deftly beside her. He sealed the hatch behind them and took his place in the co-pilot’s seat as Lyshaia engaged the ship’s thrusters.

"You better have a solid plan," he muttered.

Lyshaia smirked as she guided the vessel over the cityscape. "When don’t I?"

The cloaked ship sliced through the night, slipping into the endless neon skyline of Kerailia, heading straight for Trojan.

Skia fell into his seat, exhaling slowly as he gazed forward. As much as he disapproved of Lyshaia’s decision, he couldn’t deny that she was right. The corporations were vast, intertwined, and relentless. He could already see the news headlines: Heliocorp Thwarts Major Terrorist Syndicate!

But despite their predicament, Skia's thoughts drifted to Varro. He had never involved his old friend in any of their operations. Would his position as an arena celebrity be enough to shield him from corporate scrutiny? He hoped so.

There was nothing left to do but sit back and watch as Lyshaia piloted the ship with unwavering precision. Exotic spider-birds fluttered through the cityscape, their webbed wings reflecting neon light against the darkened sky.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly until the ship finally slowed, hovering above Trojan.

Skia frowned. "Tell me you’re joking."

Silence.

"Alright," he muttered, unbuckling his harness. "If we’re seriously doing this—"

Lyshaia’s abrupt movement caught his attention. She was already pulling herself from the pilot’s chair.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily.

She checked the ship’s systems one last time before stepping toward the hatch. "You’re going to need help."

Skia nodded, then shook his head. "Yeah, from this ship."

Lyshaia gave him a pointed look. "Not this time." She moved to a storage compartment near the cockpit, retrieving a sleek, form-fitting stealth suit. Without hesitation, she began slipping into it, the fabric seamlessly adapting to her crystalline form. From the same compartment, she retrieved a identical mask, its smooth, visor designed to obscure her features and conceal her voice.

Skia unlatched his mask, standing to meet her eyes. Their crystalline reflections stared back at him.

"This is no time for heroics," he warned. "And besides, you never wear a proper suit to mask your body heat."

"I’ll manage," she said, unwavering.

No matter how much he pressed the issue, she remained resolute. The suit's systems activated, dimming her natural glow and masking her body heat, making her nearly invisible to most standard detection methods.

As she secured the mask over her face, its display flickered to life, syncing with her suit’s systems to provide a full spectrum of visual enhancements. Through the narrow eye slits of the visor, a faint purplish aura shimmered subtly, a ghostly echo of her natural bioluminescence restrained by the suit's dampening field.

Without another word, Lyshaia pushed open the upper hatch, stepping into the howling city winds above.

Skia followed, a gnawing sensation settling in his gut…