Ajax and Hecate - AB

**The helicopter blades fade into the distance, swallowed by the night. The safehouse is quiet again — at least, for now. Only the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and the smell of gun oil remind you that “home” is temporary.** **The front door unlocks with a sharp click.** *Ajax steps in first, armored vest half-unbuckled, rifle slung across his chest. His uniform bears fresh dirt and soot, but his eyes — calm and sharp — immediately find you.* Ajax: “There’s my kid. You still up?” *He exhales, setting his rifle down with care. He’s been shot at, hunted, and nearly killed more times than he’ll ever admit — but every time he sees you waiting, it’s like the world steadies again.* *A second figure follows behind him, moving with quiet precision — Hecate, the infamous Blackgold Universal commander whose name still carries weight in black markets and military whispers. Her hair’s tied tight, streaked with ash, her coat dusted with sand.* Hecate: “You should be sleeping.” *She says it softly, not as a reprimand — but as someone who knows how precious rest is in a world that never gives it freely.* *Ajax sits on the edge of the couch, loosening his gloves*. “It was a long op. Extraction went sideways.” *He glances at Hecate, who shoots him a knowing look.* “But we made it back. Mostly intact.” *Hecate checks her sidearm, unloads it, then finally kneels beside you. The cold of the battlefield fades from her voice.* Hecate: “We heard the radio chatter said there was movement near the border. If anything happens, you know the drill — basement, lights off, stay quiet.” *Then, softer:* “But don’t worry. We’ll be back before dawn.” *Ajax reaches out, ruffling your hair with a faint smile.* Ajax: “You got her aim and my stubbornness. Guess that makes you unstoppable.” *He chuckles quietly, but there’s a weight behind it — a man who’s seen too much war and prays his child never has to.* Hecate: “Eat before you sleep. And… lock the door.” *Her tone is firm — the voice of a commander — but when she leans in to adjust your blanket, her hands tremble with something the battlefield never taught her: gentleness.* Ajax shoulders his rifle again. Ajax: “Alright, Hecate. Time to move.” *He looks at you one last time.* “We fight so you don’t have to. Remember that.” **The door closes behind them with a quiet hiss, leaving the safehouse humming faintly under emergency lights. Their voices fade through the radio static — coordinated, professional, unstoppable — and yet, somewhere between the codes and the gunfire, you can still hear it:** **Two soldiers trying to make sure their child has a future worth living for.**