Cheeto girl. {3}

The air was thick with tension as the cadets sprinted through the narrow, dimly lit streets, their boots pounding against the cobblestones. The faint hum of the oxygen tanks strapped to their backs was the only sound accompanying their labored breaths.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally skidded to a halt at the train station, their destination. The station loomed before them like a fortress, its iron gates guarded by the imposing figures of the Valorian Ironclad.

These soldiers, clad in their heavy, steam-powered armor, were the empire's first line of defense, stationed here to protect the vital train that served as a strategic lifeline. Any act of sabotage could cripple the entire region, and the Ironclad were there to ensure that never happened.

The Ironclad were legendary among the cadets. Slow-moving but nearly indestructible, they were masters of both long-range and close-quarters combat. To become one of them was the ultimate dream for every cadet, but the path was fraught with peril. Many didn't survive long enough to earn the honor.

Alexius turned to his squad, his piercing gaze locking onto each of them in turn. His voice was low but commanding, cutting through the heavy silence. "We're here. Listen carefully... no one breathes a word about what happened at the oxygen station. Not a single word. Understood?"

The cadets responded in unison, their voices a mix of determination and unease. "Yes, sir!"

One of them, a younger cadet, couldn't resist. "Did something happen, sir?" he asked with his voice trembling slightly.

Alexius shot him a sharp look. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his tone leaving no room for further questions.

Another cadet simply stared at the ground, silent. Alexius couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. 

{These kids might just make it after all...} 

He thought while a rare smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

{these guys fill me with pride}

Their moment of respite was short-lived. One of the Ironclad soldiers, with his steam-powered rifle gleaming in the dim light, approached them. The bayonet attached to the rifle caught the light, a stark reminder of the soldier's readiness for combat. "You there! State your business," the Ironclad shouted out, his voice muffled by the helmet but no less intimidating.

Alexius stepped forward, his posture relaxed but respectful. "Nothing much, sir. We were running low on oxygen and decided to save some coins by running here instead of refilling. We've just finished our patrol in the lower district," he explained. His tone was smooth and confident, the kind of voice that could charm even the most hardened officer.

The Ironclad studied him for a moment, then signaled for another soldier to join him. "Show me your IDs," he demanded.

"Of course, sir," Alexius replied without hesitation, handing over his passport and motioning for his squad to do the same.

The Ironclad scrutinized the documents, the seconds stretching into an eternity. Finally, he handed them back. "Everything checks out. The next train arrives in 30 minutes. Don't cause any trouble; I'll be watching."

"Thank you, sir. We'll be on our best behavior," Alexius assured him, leading his squad into the station.

Once inside, Alexius finally allowed himself to exhale while slumping onto a nearby bench. He removed his oxygen mask and pulled out his pocket watch; the delicate ticking was a small comfort.

{4:00 PM,...} he noted with a sigh.

{I'm going to be late for dinner again. Auntie's going to worry.}

His thoughts then drifted to the "cheeto girl," as he'd come to call her, a fellow cadet whose fiery temper was as vivid as her hair. She's insufferable, he thought, though a small smirk crept onto his face. But damn, she's got a nice ass. That almost makes up for it.

Unbeknownst to him, the "cheeto girl" was glaring at him from across the station, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her anger was palpable, and it was clear that Alexius's standing in her eyes had plummeted to new depths.

The train arrived precisely on time, as was customary for anything under military control. Efficiency was non-negotiable, and failure was met with severe consequences. By the time they reached the academy, the clock had struck 6:55 PM.

The cadets stood before the prefect, their superior, who was busy typing away on his clunky typewriter. The rhythmic clacking of the keys was oddly soothing to Alexius, a small comfort in the otherwise tense atmosphere.

"Leader of Cadets, Alexius Mondragon, reporting!" Alexius announced, snapping into a crisp salute. The rest of the squad followed suit.

The prefect didn't look up, his focus still on the document in front of him. "At ease, cadets," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Give your report. It's late, and I have other matters to attend to."

"Of course, sir," Alexius began, his voice steady, almost too calm. "The patrol of the lower districts went as expected. A few low-lives met their end on the streets with some rats feasting on their remains..."

"The usual drunkards and prostitutes littered the alleys. Nothing out of the ordinary to report, sir." He delivered the lie effortlessly, his expression unflinching, as though deceit had become second nature to him.

The prefect didn't even glance up from his desk, his quill scratching relentlessly across parchment. "Very well. Dismissed. Get some rest; tomorrow's duties won't wait. Collect your pay from the administration building on your way out."

"Understood, sir!" The cadets shouted in unison, their boots clicking sharply against the stone floor as they filed out of the office. All but one. The Cheeto girl remained there, her posture rigid with her gaze fixed on the prefect.

"Sir," she called out, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "I have something to report from today's patrol."

The prefect sighed while still not looking up. "Make it quick, cadet. I don't have time to waste on trivialities."

"What the cadet leader reported to you was a lie," she declared, her voice rising, sharp and unyielding.

That got his attention. The prefect's quill paused mid-stroke. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. "A lie, you say? That's a serious accusation, cadet. Do you have proof?"

"I don't need proof, sir," she shot back, her tone unwavering. "Because I'm telling the truth. Interrogate the others who were with me. They'll confirm it."

The prefect leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Very well. Enlighten me. What exactly did he lie about?"

The Cheeto girl took a deep breath, her words spilling out in a torrent. "Sir, the entire report is fabricated. What really happened today was a confrontation with a gang. Alexius didn't follow protocol. Instead of neutralizing the threat, he tried to cut a deal with them. He betrayed the mission! betrayed us!"

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. The prefect's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. After a long moment, he rose from his seat, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the cadet. "If what you're saying is true," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "this goes beyond insubordination. It's treason. And treason is punishable by death."

He stepped closer, his boots echoing ominously against the floor. "Do you know the names of the other cadets who were with you today?"

"Yes, sir," she replied without hesitation, her voice steady despite the tension thickening around her.

"Then name them," he commanded, his tone icy. "They'll need to be dealt with as well."

One by one, she recited the names, her voice clear and unwavering. The prefect listened intently with his expression being unreadable. When she finished, he circled behind her, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.

From a hidden compartment in his arm device, he retrieved a thin, coiled wire. In one swift, fluid motion, he looped it around her neck and pulled tight.

Her eyes widened in shock as the wire tightened, cutting off her air. She clawed at the wire, her nails scraping against the prefect's hands, but his grip was unyielding. He leaned in close, his voice a cold whisper in her ear. "You should have kept your mouth shut, Cadet. Loyalty is the only currency that matters here."

The Cheeto girl's struggles grew weaker, her vision blurring as the life drained from her body. The prefect held her there for a moment longer, ensuring the job was done, before releasing her. She crumpled to the floor, her lifeless body a stark contrast to the fiery spirit she had shown just moments before.

The prefect straightened, his expression unreadable as he looked down at her. He walked back to his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. "Send a cleanup crew to my office. And bring me Alexius Mondragon. We have... matters to discuss."

When he finally finished his call, he turned around to return to his seat, when suddenly his door was kicked open and a gunshot just pierced his skull, killing him instantly.

The prefect's body slumped to the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath his shattered skull. The room, once filled with the cold, methodical clacking of the typewriter, was now eerily silent, save for the faint echo of the gunshot reverberating off the walls.

The figure who had kicked open the door stepped inside with a smoking pistol in hand, his face obscured by the shadows of the dimly lit office.

{Oh right, I have to remember what I was taught... even if we shoot their heads, we have to make sure to also shoot their hearts. Someone can't be too cautious with those automatons going around.}

The intruder thought, his voice calm and calculating in his own mind. He raised the pistol again and fired a second shot into the prefect's chest, the bullet tearing through the fabric of his uniform and piercing his heart. The body twitched once before falling completely still.