SHADOW BASE — NIGHT, 10:48 PM
The main lights in the central room glowed dim. Adilof Broxtler sat before a holographic screen, monitoring air traffic systems and soft notifications from the city's sensor network. His hands moved, but his thoughts wandered far from the data.
From a distance… footsteps. Light, but fast. And loud.
Shyblance entered, wearing an oversized hoodie that nearly swallowed her entire frame. Her steps were firm, but she said nothing. No greeting.
Broxtler glanced briefly, then returned to the screen.
"Turning in early tonight?" he asked.
Shyblance didn't answer. She pulled a chair into the corner of the room, opened her tablet, and began typing — glancing his way now and then.
Broxtler noticed the look in her eye. Not sadness.
More like... anger wrapped in plastic peace.
"Shy, are you—"
"I'm fine," she cut in, eyes still on her screen. "Just... planning something for tomorrow."
"Mission-related?"
"More like... a personal one."
A sharp smile crept on her lips. Slightly crooked. One brow lifted.
Broxtler turned back to his screen. But his eyes weren't reading. He knew\...
He was in trouble.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
SHYBLANCE'S ROOM — 11:10 PM
Shyblance stood before her closet like a judge at a shadowy fashion show.
"Too casual. Too formal. Ugh, too normal."
Finally, she pulled out a sleek black outfit — tight, with a cropped jacket and a metallic-accented choker. She looked into the mirror. That sly smile returned.
"Let's see how you like this, Broxtler."
She sat at her desk and pulled up the local social network, hunting for one specific spot where "Diana the Flirt" was rumored to frequent.
> Location: Eastern District Holo-Lounge. Peak hours: Late afternoon. Crowd: Fighters, artists, and... professional charmers.
She typed fast:
> "Open public social meet request. I need a private invite to the lounge tomorrow. Fashion mode: Maximum. Location: center spotlight."
Tablet blinked. Request accepted.
"Tomorrow\... it's my turn to play."
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
SHADOW BASE — MAIN HALLWAY, BEFORE BED
Broxtler had just finished cleaning a few training pistols. He noticed Shyblance's door slightly ajar. Lights on. Silent.
"Shy?"
"Already asleep!" she called quickly.
That tone... a trap.
But Broxtler just shrugged. "Alright. Sleep well. I'll grab your favorite coffee in the lower market."
"Don't bother. I've already ordered... my own drink."
He nodded lightly and walked away.
Behind the door, Shyblance stared at her reflection.
"Tomorrow, I'm not just your partner. I'm your karma."
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
NEXT MORNING – SHYBLANCE'S ABSURD PLAN
Morning crept through the base windows. Quiet. Fresh air lingered, but the atmosphere was still... tense.
Broxtler woke early, as always. Watered the plants, brewed some coffee, checked supply data. But his eyes kept drifting toward Shyblance's room. Still closed. Still cold.
Inside, Shyblance sat before the mirror, wearing a black crop top and leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Semi-transparent high-rise pants shaped her silhouette sharply. Hair tied back, lips tinted dark red. Her eyes burned with intent: Operation Jealousy.
"Let's see how long you last, Mr. Ice." She sprayed perfume. "Time to flip your own game against you."
9:12 AM. She stepped out. Calm strides, a smirk on her lips, as if nothing had happened last night.
Broxtler was jotting notes. He looked up. Eyes slightly widened. But as always... face stayed flat.
"Morning," Shyblance greeted, grabbing the coffee he brewed.
Broxtler nodded. "Your outfit..."
"I'm tired of being a fighter. Trying out fashion influencer vibes."
He said nothing. Eyes back on his data. But… they lingered two seconds too long on her left shoulder.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
LOCATION: DISTRICT B3 – OPEN GALLERY & INTERACTIVE PARK
Shyblance invited Broxtler to a trending open-space gallery — where street artists showcased living paintings and interactive holograms. But art wasn't her real goal.
Her target: a tall silver-haired man in a loose hoodie, scouted earlier through the virtual art network.
Name: Aren Velk. Hologram model and sound sculptor — known for being... flirty, loud, and dangerously charming.
As they arrived, Aren greeted them with bold confidence.
"Shyblance? Wow. You're even more stunning in real life."
Broxtler raised an eyebrow.
Shyblance chuckled. "He's my friend. We promised to check out his latest work."
Aren leaned in, kissed her hand. Then glanced at Broxtler.
"And you are? Personal bodyguard? Or part of this art installation?"
"City logistics system support," Broxtler replied flatly.
"Cool. So I'll need you if I ever ship out some... love packages."
Shyblance laughed. Too easily.
Broxtler watched for a second… then sat near a hologram painting, pulling out a small tablet and reviewing C4 sector economic structures.
Meanwhile, Aren performed a ridiculous poem — voice deep and dramatic — occasionally reaching for Shyblance's hand, which she didn't pull away.
"You… a star amid drone echoes... Lips warmer than thermal grids."
Shyblance looked at Broxtler, waiting.
He stared at his screen.
"Brox, you listening?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"Bad metaphor. Your lips aren't warmer than thermal security. Security uses 4.2 heat level. Pretty hot."
Shyblance almost choked.
Aren frowned. "Uh... okay."
Broxtler stood. "I'm heading to the bookstore. Call me when you're done... with inner voices."
He left. Calm. Even greeted the balloon vendor.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
BACK AT THE GALLERY – 12 MINUTES LATER
Shyblance sat quietly, chin resting on her hand.
Aren next to her, clearly out of moves. "He always like that?"
"Like an ice block behind three firewalls."
"Huh. I'm done. Thought he'd get mad or... jealous."
Shyblance sighed. "So did I."
Aren shrugged. "You know… maybe he's not jealous because he trusts you too much."
She looked at him. "Or... he just doesn't care."
Aren stood. "Or maybe he's not like most men. Maybe to him, love isn't about control. It's... letting you be free without fear of losing you."
Shyblance went silent.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
THE BASE — DUSK SETTING IN
Broxtler returned first.
He arranged two cups of tea, fixed the chairs, opened a digital poetry book.
5:02 PM — the door opened. Shyblance stepped in slowly.
"You're not mad?" she asked.
"Should I be?"
"Because I... seemed to enjoy my time earlier."
He closed the book.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
She searched his face — hoping to find even a scratch of hurt. Some emotion.
But what she saw instead… was unsettling calm.
"Why?"
Broxtler answered quietly, "Because I know\... you'll still come back."
Shyblance paused. Then smiled softly.
"So... ice doesn't always stay frozen?"
He shrugged. "Ice flows too — if given enough warmth."
And for the first time that day…
Shyblance had no comeback.
She sat beside him.
And quietly admitted to herself...
She'd lost this one.
To someone who didn't fight with fire — but with patience.