Chapter Text
Chapter 1
There is no such thing as black eyes.
Allura knew this. As a teenager, her studies included human biology and anatomy—not only because Arus collaborated with Earth long before her father’s reign, but also because understanding their allies in every aspect was in the planet’s best interest. So she knew there was no such thing as black eyes, a symmetrical human body, or the same fingerprints.
But her prince…he was different.
She couldn’t help but smile as she gazed into the eyes of her prince. His dark brown eyes, nearly as black as the night, and hair like raven’s wings framed a smile so radiant it lit up her entire morning.
“Good morning,” she whispered, lifting her hand and gently brushing his hair. “You were supposed to sleep in your bed last night.”
The prince shrugged, “I wanted you.” He went to hug her, gripping his arms around her neck, “I missed you, mommy.” Prince Alek whispered in her ear.
"I know," she sighed, running her hand gently through his hair. For a three-year-old, he was truly exceptional—his intelligence far surpassed the norm for his age, and he was already reading at a first-grade level.
Allura didn’t believe he had inherited his intellect from her, but rather from his father. Others disagreed. Keith was sharp, analytical, and strategic, but Alek might surpass him someday. Not that it mattered to Allura—Alek was every bit his father’s son, and that alone filled her with joy.
"Mommy had a lot of meetings yesterday," she continued with a warm smile, "but today, you and I are going to do something special!"
His eyes lit up, “Really? What?”
“Well,” Allura playfully tilted her head, “how about we go to the lake for some swimming, and then later we head to the stables and go horseback riding?”
If there was one thing Alek loved, it was horseback riding. He beamed at the mention of riding, even though he’d be riding with Allura. It would be years before he could ride a horse on his own.
“Yay! Is Uncle Lance coming?”
“You know your uncle,” Allura sighed, as she stood up from the bed and looked for her robe, “He’ll be there.”
“Can we see Daddy?”
At the mention of Keith, Allura's body went rigid, her cerulean eyes widening slightly as her breath caught in her throat. Lately, Alek had been pleading to see his father with increasing frequency, his small voice filled with a certainty that unnerved her. She couldn't fathom why this longing gradually intensified with each passing day. Keith had been gone for three long years, and Alek had never once felt his father's embrace or seen the proud smile that would have surely graced Keith's face at the sight of his son. Yet the child continuously insisted that if he visited the ancient tombs enough times, his father would materialize from the ethereal plane just as his grandfather had.
It was common knowledge throughout the castle that King Alfor's spectral form appeared with increasing frequency since Alek's birth. His translucent figure was often spotted hovering near the child's bed or walking alongside the boy in the royal gardens. Now, with the simple logic of a child, Alek had concluded that his father would surely follow his grandfather’s pattern.
"I guess we can," Allura replied, her lips curving upward in what resembled a smile, though the expression never reached her eyes. The gesture hung hollow on her face, a pale imitation of joy that couldn't mask the shadow of grief still lurking beneath. Since Keith's passing, she found herself avoiding his resting place where his memorial stood, cold stone attempting to represent a man who had burned so brightly in life. Something was upsetting about seeing his name etched into the ancient walls—as if Keith, with his fierce spirit and defiant nature, should never have been confined to that solemn, silent place.
Even her father's spirit, when she had questioned him in private moments of desperation, had been unable to speak of Keith's presence in the realm beyond. Alfor had gently explained, his voice echoing with the wisdom of centuries, that the spirit realm was not simply a gathering place where souls mingled freely. It was not a world filled with social calls or casual reunions. Keith would manifest his essence when the time was right or when dire circumstances demanded his guidance. At present, Arus basked in peace, its skies clear of enemy ships and its people prospering—there was no necessity compelling Keith's spirit to bridge the gap between their worlds.
Yet in the quiet hours of the night, when Alek slept peacefully and the castle halls fell silent, Allura often found herself consumed by resentment. How could Keith remain away, when their son grew older with each passing year, developing mannerisms that sometimes made her heart stop with their eerie familiarity? How could Alfor appear to guide and comfort them, while Keith—her Keith—remained stubbornly absent from the lives he had left behind?
“Yay!” the child bounced on the bed.
Allura inwardly sighed as she put on her robe. Then, lifting her son, she carried him into a hug. It was so hard to imagine that Alek was just three. His speech, diction, and language were almost too perfect for a child that age. But, every so often, short, childlike words came out, giving away what a true child he was.
“I love you, my perfect little boy,” Allura whispered in his ear.
“Me too, mamma,” he whispered back.
As the two embraced, they heard the door chime and looked towards the door. Both smiling, they already knew who it was. “Come in, Lance.”
It didn’t take long for the Red Lion pilot to enter the room. His bright and flirty smile so becoming of him as he walked up to the pair, “Morning, my queen. Morning, my prince.”
“Uncle Lance!” the child rocketed out of his mother’s arms, launching toward Lance, who scooped him up mid-air, with the same cool and smooth move reflexes he used to score touchdowns back in the academy days.
“Whoa, kid!” the man laughed as he playfully lifted the child.
“I didn’t think you’d catch me,” he replied with glee, obviously enjoying the interaction.
“Oh! I’m always going to catch you, bud!” Lance said happily. As he set the child down, he added,
“So what are we doing today?”
“We are…” Alek let out an overly dramatic sigh, “Going to have pancakes, and then we are going swimming and horse riding, and then we are going to visit Dad.”
“Oh?” Lance raised his eyebrows and nodded, “That’s a lot of things to do today.” Glancing at his watch, Lance shook his head in regret, “Look at the time...we might not be able to fit all these things in today.”
Alek’s face fell slightly. “What?”
“Unless,” Lance said, pointing a playful finger, “You young man make sure to meet Nanny in your room. She should be coming in the next few minutes.”
Bolting out of the room, Alek wasted no time replying to his uncle. His little legs, moving at top speed, made their way out of his mother’s room toward the adjoining room
Seeing him run, Lance chuckled, “Kid, cracks me up.”
“Why do you torture him?” Allura sighed as she walked toward her vanity to brush her hair.
“Because it’s fun,” Lance chuckled even more. He sat at the edge of the bed as he watched Allura brush her long hair. “So, we are going to do all that today?”
“I promised him,” Allura shrugged. “I never go back on my promises when it comes to him.”
“What didn’t you do to cause this guilt trip?” Lance smiled.
“It was such a long day yesterday—I barely saw him,” Allura whispered, her voice laced with quiet ache as she brushed her hair in slow, thoughtful strokes. “I hate when the day slips by without time together. I’m always afraid I’ll miss something—a laugh, a word, how he looks at the world. Something small, but unforgettable. Something I’ll ache for years from now, wishing I’d held onto it a little longer.”
Lance knew that even as she spoke, it wasn’t only Alek she was thinking of. There was a quiet acceptance in her voice—a recognition of the moments with Keith that would never come.
“So, what brings you in this morning, Commander?” Allura asked as she set the brush down on the vanity. She turned to face him. “What do you need to tell me?”
“How do you know?” Lance looked surprised.
“I know you too well,” she said. “Normally, you’d be going on about some date you had or griping that the Garrison’s piling on more work than usual. This ‘my queen’ nonsense? It’s just your way of trying to calm me down before dropping a bomb. So, tell me—what’s going on?”
“Another Garrison cabinet member was assassinated.”
Now the queen looked genuinely worried. “Another one?”
Lance nodded. “Colonel Cross. He was on vacation— he was supposed to report back two days ago. They found him this morning, buried under three feet of soil about two miles from the cabin he was staying in.”
“This is insane,” Allura sighed heavily in worry. “It’s the third general that’s been killed in the past three months.”
“It gets worse,” Lance answered.
“Oh no, what?”
“Garrison has asked me to go and help with the investigation,” Lance answered solemnly.
Allura stared at him with a mix of shock and confusion in her eyes. “Why would they want you there?”
He shrugged and put on his best overly dramatic Garrison voice. “As Commander of the Voltron Force,” he uttered, puffing out his chest, “you are honor-bound to investigate the untimely demise of your noble comrades.”
“Well,” Allura stood up, “It does make sense.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please. This is a public relations stunt. There’s no reason for me to be there other than the Garrison telling the news stations around Earth that Arus is also working diligently to find this killer.”
“When do you leave?” she asked, even though part of her didn’t want to know. She wasn’t ready for him to go. But deep down, Allura understood—knew too well—that the Commander of the Voltron Force, loyal to the Garrison, couldn’t ignore the call of duty.
“In two days,” Lance said quietly, the weight of it settling between them. “I asked Sven to go with me. He’s better at the public-facing stuff, the grand displays. Me? I’m good for the polished smiles and cheerful press junkets.” A bittersweet smile flickered across his face. “Keith hated all of that.
He was always the serious one. Left the sunshine and fake grins to me. I don’t think he ever really liked to smile.”
“That’s not true,” Allura’s laughter broke through like sunrise over a dark sky, soft and full of memory. Her heart tugged at the sound of his name—Keith. Even now, just speaking about him made her feel closer to him somehow.
Lance looked up at her, something tender and true in his eyes. “No,” he said softly. “He only ever smiled for you.”
The moment was suddenly broken by the sounds of the all-familiar portly woman yelling at the little prince, “Young man, get back here! I’ve already laid out today’s attire and you will wear what I’ve put for you.”
“No! I don’t like that shirt,” Alek screamed. “I want to wear the black one!”
“It’s too hot to wear black today,” Nanny huffed. “The blue one is better.”
“No!”
Allura looked back at Lance, “I’ll see you at breakfast. I guess I’m needed over there to play mediator.”
Laughing, Lance stood up as he looked toward Alek’s room, “Maybe the Garrison trip won’t be as bad as I thought.”
XXXXXXXXXX
Halcyon Facility – Superstition Mountain, Arizona--Earth
Deep within the rugged terrain of Arizona’s Superstition Mountains lies a facility known as Halcyon. Hidden within the natural curvature of the mountain and protected by advanced cloaking technology, its entrance is concealed behind a narrow canyon wall. Biometric access is required to gain entry, along with clearance so high it isn’t even acknowledged by official channels. To the untrained eye, the entrance appears to be nothing more than untouched red rock—perfectly camouflaged, imperceptible to passersby.
Beneath the surface, Halcyon unfolds into a sprawling, multi-level underground complex. At its deepest point lies Level 7, a state-of-the-art research hub equipped with the pinnacle of technological advancement: quantum computing arrays, autonomous robotic systems, and biomedical engineering labs designed for revolutionary experimentation.
The atmosphere buzzes with intensity. Nine specialized areas line that wing, each monitored by automated security drones that glide silently through the corridors. Walls of glowing data screens track everything from biometric vitals to seismic activity, fed by thousands of sensors embedded throughout the facility.
Each area is sealed, soundproofed, and shielded from external digital surveillance. Access is granted only to a select few operatives with what they call the Omega-level clearance—a designation less than ten operatives have.
In one such area, a sleek, gym-like arena, a man is locked in a fencing match with a humanoid android. With each clash, he moves faster, more fluidly, calling out levels as he defeats the machine time and time again with flawless skill, speed, and precision.
Above the chamber, behind a pane of observation glass, two scientists watch intently, taking notes and analyzing the man's actions. They speak in hushed tones, intrigued not just by the man’s performance, but by what it might mean for the next phase of their work.
“He never loses,” Dr. Adam Bartlett smiled with pride as he watched his creation improve by the day. He was a tall man with thinning hair and glasses.
Next to him, another man looked serious and nodded, “You did it.”
“We did it, Josh,” the older man with salt and pepper hair acknowledged. “You made many noteworthy contributions.”
Josh felt the sting in those words. These were not words of accolade, but rather words that Bartlett stated to mean he was just as guilty in the creation of their specimen. “Contributions that were made by a very gullible young scientist. What we did was create an abomination.”
“What we did was create the next generation of super soldier,” Adam smirked.
Looking at Josh, he couldn’t help to feel a mixture of jealousy and irritation crept in. The man was about fifteen years his junior, with red hair still full and blue eyes that were sharp and vivid. It was not long ago that the staff celebrated his thirty-second birthday.
Adam, closing in on fifty in a few years, couldn’t help to envy someone who still had so much ahead of him and couldn’t even grasp how much he had already achieved in his short lifetime, “Josh, we are pushing the boundaries of biology, intellect, and hybrid enhancement. We are gods standing at the dawn of a new creation.”
Josh shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. His boss had become a true personification of a mad scientist. “Get off your damn pedestal, Adam! What we’re doing—these experiments—they blur the line of morality. Hell, we don’t even know who we’re working for, or why. All we get is a boatload of secrets, buried under layers of ‘need-to-know.’ We have no idea what kind of consequences we might be unleashing.”
“I think you need to be careful who you say these things to,” Bartlett warned. “We are more privileged than you think.”
“We’ve been inside this rock for years,” Josh sighed. “We’ve haven’t been able to see our families, we haven’t been able to even take a damn vacation anywhere. Hell, we haven’t even seen the sun. We have no idea what is going on outside of Halcyon. We ask questions that we don’t ever get a clear answer to. Something is not right.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Adam’s anger rose. “You knew exactly what you were getting into. When you came, you thought you were the luckiest grad student for landing such a prestigious position under me.”
“I thought I would be contributing to society,” Josh answered, “Not destroying it.”
“That’s preposterous!”
“Adam, you must be blind!” Josh almost yelled as he pointed at the man still fencing with the robot. By now, he was a few levels away from reaching maximum level. “He’s not well. Kadian is dangerous.”
“Please!” Adam sneered.
But Josh wouldn’t let it go, “He’s become unstable, Adam. Last mission, he disappeared on us for almost a day. And when asked of his whereabouts, he purposely didn’t give us an answer.”
“It’s part of his program to be deceptive.”
“Not to us!” Josh’s voice was rising, cracking under the weight of frustration. “We’re his team, Adam. His team! If he’s lying to us now, what happens when he decides we're the threat?”
Adam’s smirk faltered, just for a second, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. “You’re overreacting.”
Josh stepped closer, lowering his voice but pressing harder. “Am I? Because I saw the footage from his last mission before he managed to turn his recorder off. When Kadian thought no one was watching—his strength, his precision—it wasn’t training anymore, Adam. It was hunting. He could have killed his target long before. He made him suffer. He purposely liked to see him suffer. He buried him alive. I think he—”
“He what?”
“He’s playing us, Adam,” Josh replied. “He’s smarter than he lets on.”
Across the training floor, Kadian struck the robot with a final, decisive blow. The machine collapsed, sparks flying. He stood over it, chest heaving, eyes scanning the room like a predator looking for its next target.
Josh didn’t even bother to point. “Look at him. He’s unstable, Adam. We have to do something.”
Adam was quiet now, gaze locked on the soldier they had “perfected.” Kadian slowly turned toward them, and for a moment, just a flicker—there was no recognition in his eyes. Only calculation.
And then he smiled.
XXXXXXXXXX
There was always a mix of peace and resentment when Allura stepped into the catacombs where her ancestors, including her father and husband, were buried.
Before and during the war, the place had been a grim, forgotten vault, cluttered with unburied tombs and cloaked in shadow. But after the war ended—and after Keith’s death—Allura vowed to transform it. Her husband, she decided, would rest in a place of dignity and beauty.
She rebuilt the catacombs stone by stone, gave each tomb the burial it deserved, and installed holographic headstones that shimmered gently beneath the light of a projected garden—a radiant illusion blooming across the walls. It became a sanctuary filled with memories, love, and loss.
The space was more than visual. It was an immersion field—so vivid, she could feel the crisp breeze of an autumn morning, or summon the quiet of snowfall drifting softly from a winter sky. Birds sang in the air, and the scent of blooming flowers lingered around each headstone, honoring those she loved in the most human way she could imagine.
She sat by one of the benches at the entrance of The Sepulchral Garden, as she called it, watching her son sit by his father’s headstone. Alek looked up, studying the features of his father, now a holographic image of him in his Voltron uniform. The image then slowly changed to Keith in his Garrison uniform and then in Arusian Royal attire. Allura made sure that Keith would be honored as Captain of Voltron, Garrison official, and King of Arus.
The child smiled and spoke to the image as if it were a real person. Allura found it both beautiful and a bit unnerving. She thought that Alek was sometimes beyond his years.
“There’s so much of both you and Keith in him.”
She heard a familiar voice and smiled softly. “I’m glad,” she murmured, turning to her left, only to find her father sitting beside her. “Are you going to talk to him?”
“I’ll go over to him in a moment,” the transparent figure said.
Alfor had many forms. Sometimes he appeared as young as Allura remembered him from her childhood. Other times, he took the shape she knew best—older, wiser, commanding. But today, he had chosen the form of a grandfather: white hair, a full beard, and gentle eyes. Not the copper-haired man of her memories, but the version Alek had always known. “Just wanted to see how my daughter was doing.”
Allura sighed, “I’m alright, Father.”
“You want to ask me the question, but you know I’ll give you the same answer I always do.”
She let out a frustrated sigh, “Three damn years and he hasn’t appeared to either you or me.
What’s wrong with him?”
“Allura, you have to be patient,” Alfor reminded her. “The realm of the dead is different from your world. He could be lost, trying to find his way to you.”
“I don’t think so, Father. There’s something wrong,” she shook her head. “Something. I feel it. Keith…he’d never take this long.”
Alfor turned to Alek, who sat by his father’s tomb, speaking in lively, animated tones about all the fun things he had done with his mother and uncle earlier that day. “You should learn from your son.”
“What do you mean by that?” She asked a bit defensively.
“Alek believes his father is…as he says…out there,” Alfor replied, still looking at the child.
“Out there?” Allura looked at her father. “What did he mean?”
“I’m not sure,” her father said. “He changed the subject immediately. You know how children are, but from what little he told me, his father is out there. I think he feels that Keith is very much alive to him.”
Allura studied her son closely. She had just realized that Alek always spoke of his father in the present tense. Now that she thought about it, he had never once asked why his father wasn’t around or what had happened to him. She had always assumed it was because he was still a child, too young to understand the complexities of the world. After all, he was only three, though he’d be four by the beginning of the following year.
Still, there was something about him. Alek’s intelligence went far beyond what she expected from a child his age. Could there be more to him than she had ever realized?
XXXXXXXXX
The name Kadian is of English origin and can mean pure or divine. Some have said that it also connects to Irish and American origins. In modern American language, it means fighter or warrior, and is often associated with strength and determination.
It was no surprise to anyone that Bartlett bestowed his creation that name. His perfect creature glowed with purity and divinity. Divine as a seraph fallen from heaven, Kadian stood as the strongest warrior that would ever be created--a living monument of his genius. His final masterpiece would carry Bartlett's legacy through time's endless corridors. With bittersweetness, Bartlett mourned that his eyes would close before witnessing the splendor of what he had unleashed upon the world.
As he walked the silver-lit corridors of the compound leading to Kadian’s room, the creator thought about what his assistant had said earlier. Yes, Kadian was dangerous. He was made with that.
That was his purpose—to be lethal. To accomplish what others could not.
What was Josh trying to say? Bartlett sculpted Kadian with every aspect of an assassin. He breathed life into a vessel that was weak. But Kadian had limitations. Nothing was ever really perfect. He could hurt anyone, but he was programmed not to harm his creator, those who served Bartlett. He had made sure of it. Taken precautions that even his staff was not aware of. There was nothing to worry about. Bartlett put those thoughts to rest as he pressed the code to Kadian’s room. The door opened, and he watched his creation. He smiled. He was beautiful.
“Good evening, Kadian.”
Kadian, as always, was busy doing something. He was never at rest. Only when he knew he had to rest or was made to rest. The room was efficient and comfortable. It was divided into distinct zones that flowed seamlessly into one another.
The sleeping area featured a platform bed, low to the ground, firm, with sheets in charcoal gray. No headboard to trap him, no footboard to impede a quick exit. The bed faced the door, positioned with clear sightlines to all entry points of the room. A small nightstand held only essentials: a lamp with adjustable brightness, a carafe of water, and a simple analog clock.
Adjacent to it, a meditation area contained only a single mat and a small fountain whose gentle burble masked external sounds while providing white noise for concentration exercises. The walls here were a shade darker. Its purpose was to encourage focus and mind-clearing practices. A wall-mounted vidscreen was currently turned off. This is where Bartlett conducted his mind-clearing exercises with Kadian.
The exercise zone, where he found Kadian doing push-ups, had equipment designed for bodyweight training—pull-up bars anchored to reinforced ceiling beams, parallel bars for dips, and wall-mounted gymnastic rings. A collection of kettlebells sat on a custom rack. The flooring, made of a specialized material, absorbed impact and provided a stable solution for balance.
The bathroom was surprisingly spacious. Translucent glass walls enclosed most of the room, allowing light to filter in while maintaining a sense of privacy—except for the toilet area, which was set in a separate, fully enclosed alcove with a sound-dampening door and frosted-glass paneling for complete discretion.
At the center was a large walk-in shower with multiple pressure settings, including angled jets powerful enough to massage battle-worn muscles and ease post-combat tension. Adjacent to the shower, a deep soaking tub rested in the corner, its smooth contours ideal for recovery after grueling missions.
Built seamlessly into the wall was a sleek medicine cabinet stocked with more than just the usual toiletries. Inside were specialized salves, regenerative creams, and injectable therapeutic compounds—everything necessary for a soldier to administer first aid or accelerate physical recovery.
A modest kitchenette contained a high-end blender, induction hotplate, and small refrigerator stocked with precision-portioned meals made for fuel rather than indulgence, though a small collection of exceptional teas suggested this particular assassin allowed himself this singular pleasure.
The room also held a technology suite with a specialized desk with multiple monitors embedded into the wall, their screens visible only from specific angles to prevent any external observation. Here, he could analyze mission details, study targets, and plan operations with complete privacy.
Storage solutions were integrated throughout the room, hidden behind seamless panels that blended with the walls. Climate controls maintained the perfect temperature and humidity for rest and recovery. The lighting system could simulate natural day cycles or switch to specialized settings for different activities.
The room contained no personal effects, no photographs or mementos—nothing that spoke to a life beyond these walls. The space was designed not just for an assassin's physical needs, but for his psychological requirements as well: clarity, focus, and the absence of attachment.
Kadian didn’t answer until he had fully completed the number of push-ups in his cycle. Bartlett knew this and waited patiently. Once completed, he stood up. Sweat glistened on his bare, muscled chest, his only attire, a pair of black exercise shorts. His hair matted around his beautiful face. He looked at his creator with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, “Good evening, Dr. Bartlett.” He walked over to the bar that held a towel, and he wiped his face with it. “How can I be of service?”
The scientist's gaze caressed the assassin's form, his eyes drinking in the lines of muscle rippled beneath his skin. A quiet longing stirred within Bartlett, a yearning that he knew would always remain unspoken. He was intimately familiar with every detail of the assassin's body. For years, he worked with him. He knew every muscle, every fine line of his body, every detail down to the tattoos he decided to keep.
Kadian was a tool, a masterpiece of science and engineering, but he would never be more than that. He would never return the scientist's gaze with anything but obedience, never see him as more than a creator.
The scientist's fingers itched to touch, to explore, but he restrained himself, aware that such a gesture would be an indulgence, a fleeting pleasure that would only serve to underscore the gap between them. Instead, he stood frozen, a statue of desire and restraint, his heart locked behind a façade of detachment.
“I wanted to congratulate you on your last mission,” Bartlett answered. “You’re almost done with the assignment. Soon, you’ll be assigned something new. You can even decide to take a break and just relax if you wish.”
Placing the towel back where it was before, Kadian walked up to his creator, a small smile forming on his features. “Will I be staying here for my next assignment, or will I be transferred somewhere else?”
Bartlett took a step back. The man had walked too close to him. “I…um…of course you’ll be staying here, Kadian. This is your home.”
Kadian raked his wet hair back, “That’s good to know.” He walked past the scientist and headed toward the bathroom. “So, who is next and when do I leave?”
“In about three days. I need you to review your next target,” the older man remarked, watching as Kadian disrobed, revealing his meticulously sculpted physique before stepping into the shower. When he activated the water, steam immediately claimed the glass enclosure, transforming his chiseled form into a veiled silhouette behind the clouded barrier.
Adam’s mind wandered, his focus breaking as he watched Kadian’s silhouette, his hands lathering his body. He felt a flutter in his chest, a sensation he'd grown accustomed to in his creation’s presence. It was a feeling he knew better than to indulge.
"Kadian, finish up, we have to go over the materials you’ll need to study before you leave,” the scientist said, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended.
"Be right out, Doctor," Kadian called, his voice carrying over the shower's spray. "I'm sure you wouldn't care to sit beside me. I've been pushing through exercises for nearly three hours."
Adam walked over to the computer area and brought up the files. He wouldn’t entertain his thoughts with wild fantasies. There would never be such a thing. He brought up all the files Kadian would need to review for the next few days or so. He’d test him every day until he knew everything about this next target. He was so focused on opening files and organizing them appropriately that the sudden aroma of sandalwood caught him off guard. He hadn’t even noticed Kadian standing in back of him.
"You're always so focused," the Kadian said, his voice low and even. "I admire that about you."
The scientist turned around. His gaze met Kadian’s, who now wore black silk pajamas, before he returned to his work. "Precision is key in our line of work," he replied, his tone neutral. “Let’s go over the file.”
The creation nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a faint smile. “Whatever you say, Doctor." He sat down next to the older man before reaching out, his hand brushing against the scientist's as he picked up his data pad for notetaking. The touch was fleeting, but the scientist's heart skipped a beat.
As they both worked alongside each other, going over the files and the plans for attack, Bartlett couldn't shake the feeling that he was being...teased. Kadian’s movements were subtle, but calculating. Every so often, he'd glance up, their eyes would meet, and he'd flash a quick smile before returning to his task.
The scientist felt a flutter in his chest, a sensation he'd grown accustomed to in the assassin's presence. It was a feeling he knew better than to indulge. "Do you have any questions?” the scientist asked, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended.
Kadian’s gaze flicked up, his eyes locking onto Bartlett’s for a moment. "No, I think I got it all," he replied, his voice smooth as silk.
Adam nodded; his eyes drawn back to the screens as he struggled to regain his composure. He knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn't help being captivated by the Kadian’s subtle, playful charm. This can’t be! He told himself before standing up and walking away from the man who sat next to him, “If there are no questions, then I’ll let you review the material on your own. I’ll have someone bring you your dinner. Anything in particular you want tonight?”
Kadian flashed a smile, “Oysters.”
Bartlett’s eyes widened in shock before masking the surprise with his usual solemn gaze, “I’ll have the staff bring you your dinner in about an hour.” He turned around and walked out of the room without so much as a good evening.
Kadian’s smile faded as he stared at the closed door, his expression hardening. Slowly, his eyes returned to the screens—every detail about his next target already engraved into his mind.