When a seemingly lifeless boy is saved by a girl.
-
Ma'vona was once a beloved member of the Kame'tire clan, known for their profound understanding of Pandora's flora and unparalleled healing skills. Their expertise was so great that they could heal...
♪ Quaritch by James Horner ♪ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Chapter Forty-Five: When Satan Meets Lucifer
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The training ground buzzed with activity. Recom soldiers, human recruits, and Sarentu warriors moved through a series of exercises designed to hone their combat readiness. John Mercer stood at the center, his imposing frame casting a commanding presence. Beside him, Neteyam loomed tall, his expression blank yet vigilant. The sharpness in his golden eyes was carefully concealed beneath an exterior of stoicism.
The sound of boots against the metallic steps echoed through the air. A figure emerged. His broad shoulders and confident stride carried an aura of authority, and his piercing blue Na'vi eyes swept over the area as if to claim it. He approached Mercer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Mercer," Quaritch greeted, extending his hand.
"Quaritch," Mercer replied, gripping it firmly. "Good to see you in one piece."
Quaritch chuckled. "Takes more than an island and a little bad luck to keep me down." His voice was laced with both humour and menace, a blend that made him simultaneously approachable and dangerous. His gaze shifted to the figure standing beside Mercer, his brows furrowing slightly.
"And who might this be?" Quaritch asked, motioning toward Neteyam.
Mercer placed a hand on Neteyam's shoulder. "This is one of our finest recruits. Strong, disciplined, and loyal—everything we need in the field. Neteyam, meet Colonel Miles Quaritch. A man with experience as vast as this planet's terrain."
Neteyam inclined his head slightly. "Colonel," he said, his tone carefully neutral.
Quaritch's eyes narrowed as he studied Neteyam. Something about him struck a chord—a faint echo of familiarity that he couldn't place. His sharp instincts flared, though he concealed them behind a casual grin.
"Neteyam, huh? Name's got a ring to it," Quaritch mused, circling him slowly. "You look... familiar. Can't quite put my finger on it."
Neteyam held his ground, his expression unreadable. "I've been told that before."
Quaritch smirked. "Voice, too. Got that tone that makes a man think he's heard it before. Maybe it's just me getting sentimental about the past." He shook his head dismissively but kept his gaze fixed on the young Na'vi.
Mercer broke the tension with a chuckle.
"Sentimentality doesn't suit you, Miles. We've got a planet to conquer, after all." He paused. "To establish control; to integrate. Make them work for us, and make them part of the system. Once they realize there's no escape, they'll comply."
