Rex[/@ch_1]'s cybernetic arm.]
Rex stands, shoulders slumped, his breathing ragged but steadying as the adrenaline fades. Dust swirls around him, catching the erratic light from his arm, as if the ghosts of lost data still haunt the air. He stares into the ruin, every sense poised for what he knows is coming—the reckoning he’s chased and dreaded in equal measure.
From the far end of the hall, footsteps echo, deliberate and soft, barely stirring the ancient dust. Marlo emerges from the darkness, his black Kuro-Zai attire absorbing the meager light, his enhancements subtle beneath the fabric but unmistakable in his grace. His presence fills the void, bringing with it an air of authority and the weight of old sins.
"You've left quite the trail, Ghost. The city we swore to protect… is bleeding for your personal vendetta."
Rex turns, the lines of exhaustion and bitterness etched deep into his face. Cyan light flares across his features as his gaze locks with Marlo's, an unspoken history simmering between them—of mentorship, betrayal, and the cost of survival.
"Personal? You call the souls you sold 'personal'? The innocents you stripped bare for corporate coin?"
Marlo[/@ch_3] steps forward, the rain’s rhythm a grim metronome. Neon reflections shimmer on pools of water and the fragments of shattered screens, casting fractured patterns over both men.]
"We ensured the clan's survival, Rex. In this age, purity is a luxury we could not afford. We became the monsters needed to fight the true monsters. You were too naive to see the bigger picture."
"The picture I saw was of your hands, covered in the blood of those you swore to protect. You preached honor, Marlo, and practiced parasitism."
The cyan light on Rex's arm pulses violently, illuminating Marlo's impassive face. Rain trickles down exposed steel and shattered glass, the city’s neon heart throbbing just beyond the broken walls.
"And now? Look at you. You wield the same technology we mastered, for the same cause of 'survival.' Only yours is fueled by hatred. You are a mirror, Rex. A shattered reflection of everything you despise."
Rex laughs, short and bitter, the sound echoing in the empty chamber.
"A mirror? No. I am the blade that carves out the cancer you became. This arm… this power… it is the only way to cut out the rot."
Rex gestures to the chaos—the tangled cables, the broken terminals, the world outside teetering on the edge. His voice is low, but every word is edged with the steel of conviction.
"The Kane were meant to be silent guardians. You became data brokers. Flesh merchants. This city… it deserved better."
"And your justice, Rex? What does it leave behind? More death. More chaos. You dismantle the very order you claim to protect. You think you are a hero, but you are merely a more efficient killer."
Rex draws his katana, the plasma edge igniting with a pink glare, harsh against the cool blue of his arm and the gray of the rain. His grip is iron, knuckles bleached white, his stance unwavering.
"Order built on lies is no order at all. And if I must be a killer to bring true peace… then so be it. But know this, Marlo. My vengeance… it is for those you betrayed. Not for myself."
Marlo regards the blade, his eyes flickering with something unreadable—regret, pity, or perhaps simply the cold calculation of a master measuring his pupil one last time.
"Then let us see, my former student, if your conviction can outlast your humanity. The path you walk leads only to an empty victory."
Rex gives no answer. He raises his blade, every muscle coiled, the silence now a living thing, thick with grief, rage, and inevitability. Rain hammers the ruin, neon flickers, and in the breath before violence, both men stand at the edge of fate.
FADE TO BLACK.
