cheeto girl.

{As the saying goes, "Hard times create strong men." It's a phrase the Valorian nobles love to throw around like a shiny little motto they use to justify their oppression of the lower classes.}

{Up there, near the sky, where the air is cleaner and the sun actually reaches, they live in their glittering towers, untouched by the rot that festers below. Down here, in the depths, it's a different story.}

{Rats gnaw on the corpses of those killed for a few dollars or maybe it was just a bar fight that went wrong, ending with one of the responsables with a bullet to the head. Who knows? Who cares? That's just life at the lower levels. Brutal, ugly, and short.}

{I'm one of the lucky ones, if you can call it that. Thanks to my aunt's tireless efforts, I managed to claw my way into the Valorian Military Academy. Don't let the fancy name fool you... it's just a glorified cannon fodder factory.}

{But hey, at least I get paid while I'm here, and that's more than most lowlifes like me can say. Still, the question gnaws at me... Will I even live long enough to pay my aunt back for everything she's done for me?}

{Since cadets like me are sent on patrols to "maintain order" in the lower districts, which is just a polite way of saying we're thrown into the meat grinder. The mafias down here don't care about uniforms or badges. They'll kill you just for looking at them wrong.}

{And today? Today's my first time leading a small squad of cadets on patrol. We've been assigned to one of the "safest" areas in the lower districts... as if such a place even exists.}

{The air is thick with the stench of decay, and the streets are lined with hollow-eyed faces that have seen too much and given up on hope. But that's not even the worst part. No, the worst part is her.}

{This cheeto-headed girl!!}

{I don't even know her name, but she won't stop nagging me. She's been yapping nonstop since we left the academy gates, complaining about everything from the smell to the uneven pavement.}

"Why's it so dark down here?"

"Do you think we'll run into trouble?"

"Can we take a break? My feet hurt."

{On and on, like a broken record. I swear, if we do run into trouble, I might just let the mafia take her. At least then I'd get some peace and quiet.}

{But deep down, I know I won't. Because as much as she annoys me, she's just a kid... like the rest of us. We're all just trying to survive in this hell hole, hoping to make it through the day without catching a bullet or a knife in the back.}

And if I'm being honest, her constant chatter is almost comforting in a weird way. It's a reminder that, despite everything, we're still humans. We can still feel fear, frustration, and even annoyance. It's when the silence comes that you need to worry. Silence means something's wrong.

So, as much as I want to strangle her, I'll keep leading this squad through the shadows of the lower districts. Because that's what we do. We endure. We survive. And maybe, just maybe, we'll make it out of here alive. But if this cheeto-headed girl doesn't shut up soon, I might just reconsider...

"Leader, we're running low on oxygen; we have probably thirty minutes left in our tanks," one of Alexius squad members muttered, his voice sounded strained as he held up the flickering oxygen meter. The numbers blinked ominously, a silent countdown to disaster.

Alexius glanced at the meter and his jaw tightened. He already knew. They were all running on fumes, the weight of their predicament pressing down like a lead blanket.

{Damn it... the nearest station's a gamble. Those places are crawling with mafia scum. Walking in there with these polished cadet uniforms? Might as well paint targets on our backs. But the alternative? Breathing in the filth of the lower districts... No chance in hell.}

He exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the tense silence as he straightened his posture. "Alright, listen up," he said, his voice sounding low but commanding. "There's a station down that street. We move fast; stay sharp. This is mafia-run territory, and I'd rather not get riddled with bullets today. Keep your mouths shut, weapons holstered. Let me do the talking."

His squad nodded with their faces pale but resolute. The air was thick with tension, each breath feeling heavier than the last. They moved quickly, weaving through narrow alleyways, the shadows swallowing them whole as they conserved every precious second and every drop of oxygen.

Then, as they stepped into the open street, what Alexius thought was the worst case possible became a reality.

A group of gangsters loitered around the station entrance, their eyes locking onto the squad like predators spotting fresh prey. One of them, a lanky man with greasy hair and two pistols strapped to his hips, stepped forward, his grin widening as he took in their uniforms.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" His voice was full of mockery, dripping with amusement. "Six shiny little cadets, all lined up like fresh meat... and one of 'em's a girl? Damn, boys, looks like it's our lucky day!" He thrust his hips forward in a crude gesture, his laughter echoing through the street, joined by the jeers of his crew.

Alexius barely spared him a glance. He knew the type. The loud ones were always the weakest links.

{small dogs barking the loudest.}

But his focus was on the real threat: the leader. A thickset man leaned lazily against a crate, his arms crossed, while watching the scene unfold with a smirk that didn't reach his cold, calculating eyes.

"Listen," Alexius said, his voice sounding steady but firm, "we're not here to cause trouble. We just need to refill our tanks. Name your price."

The leader let out a slow, deliberate chuckle, the sound grating against Alexius nerves. "Hah… smart guy, huh?" He stretched while cracking his neck before making a casual money-counting gesture with his fingers. "Let's say... twenty bucks."

Alexius narrowed his eyes. "Per tank?"

The gangster's grin widened, his teeth glinting like a predator's. "Oh no, my friend. Twenty per liter."

A slow burn of anger coiled in Alexius gut, hot and relentless.

{You absolute bastard. That's daylight robbery. What's next? You going to ask for a tip? Maybe my ass too, while you're at it? Damn it… I can't afford to make a scene. Not here. Not with them watching. If something goes south, I'll have to explain why my whole squad got wiped out on my first day as leader.}

He swallowed his rage, forcing a tense smile. "Alright, we have a d—"

"Why the hell should we pay for something that's supposed to be free?!"

The words exploded into the air like a gunshot, sharp and defiant.

Alexius blood ran cold.

One of his squadmates, the Cheeto Girl, had stepped forward, her finger jabbing accusingly at the gangster. Her face was flushed with anger, her eyes blazing with a fire that Alexius thought was annoying as fuck.

A long, heavy silence followed, the kind that feels like the calm before a storm.

{Oh, for the love of... Cheeto Girl, I swear to God...}

Before Alexius could react, the atmosphere shifted. The gangsters expressions darkened, their amusement replaced by something far more dangerous, their hands twitched toward weapons, the air crackling with the promise of violence.

Alexius hamster brain raced at top speed, his instincts screaming at him to act. But in that moment, all he could think was...

{Cheto Girl! this night, your ass will be mine!}

Alexius forced a tight smile while lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Ehem, come on, guys. We already have a deal, right? No need to make this nasty. We'll pay your price, get our oxygen, and everyone walks away happy. Sound good?" His voice was calm, but his eyes flicked to the gang leader, searching for any sign of hesitation.

The gang leader sneered, his lips curling into a cruel grin as he looked Alexius up and down like he was nothing more than a pathetic coward. "Hmph, fine. But the price just went up."

Alexius stomach churned, but he kept his composure. "How much?" he asked, his voice steady despite the growing tension.

The gang leader leaned in, his breath reeking of cheap liquor and arrogance. "It's not about money anymore, friend." He emphasized the word with mockery, his eyes sliding over to the Cheeto Girl.

"Since we're all so chummy now, how about you let that ginger girl have a little fun with me and my boys? Don't worry... I'll return her in one piece. Maybe just a little... dirty. What do you say?"

The gang erupted into laughter, their voices echoing through the street like a pack of hyenas. Alexius felt his blood boil, but he kept his face neutral, his mind racing for a way out.

{Think, Alexius, think!}

He glanced at the Cheeto Girl, who was glaring daggers at the gang leader, her fists clenched like she was ready to throw down. Alexius forced a smirk while turning back to the gang leader with a casual shrug.

"Well, since you've said we're friends, I feel like I should warn you," Alexius said with his voice tone almost conversational. "Are you sure you want that ginger girl? Just so you know, she's... well, let's just say she's the bunny of the academy."

The gang leader's grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "The bunny? What the hell does that mean?"