𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

29 Death Of A Mentor

TWO DAYS EARLIER BEFORE LONDON

Madripoor at night was a city of vivid lights and deep shadows, a kaleidoscope of life and danger. The air buzzed with activity, but in the desolate alley outside Sera's safe house, time seemed to stand still. Edda flexed her fingers, her cybernetic enhancements humming softly. Her eyes were locked on Jett, whose calm expression betrayed no weakness. The last time they fought, Edda had barely survived. Aeron had been there, his presence her salvation. But Aeron wasn't here now.

Jett's voice cut through the tension, smooth and sharp like a blade. "Still licking your wounds from last time, Edda? Aeron's not coming to save you this time. It's just you... and me."

The words hit their mark. Edda's breath caught, and she clenched her fists tighter, the veins in her temples throbbing. She took a step forward, her composure slipping. "You don't get to say his name," she growled.

Jett tilted her head, her smile cold and clinical. "Oh, but it's all you're thinking about, isn't it? How you failed him. How you'll fail them." She glanced at Mera, who clutched her daughter, Jian, protectively.

Before Edda could react, Jiao Long moved. He was a blur of speed, his fists flying in precise strikes aimed at Jett's weak points. A master of the fighting arts, he moved with grace and power, his every motion calculated. His hands aimed for the seams of Jett's joints, hoping to exploit the delicate mechanisms in her cybernetic frame. But Jett wasn't an ordinary opponent. She countered each strike with inhuman reflexes, her movements fluid and unrelenting. A spinning kick caught Jiao Long in the ribs, sending him staggering back. He recovered instantly, flipping over her next attack and landing a solid punch to her abdomen. Sparks flew, but Jett barely flinched.

"Impressive," Jett said, her voice devoid of emotion. "But futile."

Jiao Long didn't reply. He lunged again, his strikes relentless, buying time for Edda to regain her focus. "Take Jian and go!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"I'm not leaving you!" Mera yelled, her voice trembling but defiant.

Jiao Long parried another attack, his muscles straining. "This isn't a debate!"

Edda watched the exchange, her heart pounding. Jett's words still echoed in her mind, dredging up memories of Aeron, of his sacrifice, of her failure to save him. Aeron. His name alone was a balm and a curse. He had been her beacon in the darkness, the one who believed in her when she couldn't believe in herself. The image of his face swam in her mind—the warm, crooked smile that had made her feel human when she was at her lowest, his laughter that cut through the chaos, and his hands, strong yet gentle, that held hers as if she was something fragile and precious.

Her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms so hard they drew blood. The rage she had buried for years, the guilt she had carried like a weight around her neck, erupted in a volcanic surge.

"You don't get to say his name!" she snarled, her voice trembling with fury.

Jett's grin widened. "Oh, but it's true, isn't it? He died for you. And for what? You're still weak. Still broken. Still hers." Medusa's.

Edda's vision swam with red, her body trembling as she tried to ground herself. Aeron's voice echoed in her mind, his words of love and faith clashing against Jett's taunts.

"Shut up!" Edda screamed, her voice cracking. She launched herself at Jett, her movements wild and uncoordinated. She didn't care about strategy or training; all she wanted was to silence the voice that dredged up her worst pain.