A/N - Warning: Blood, gore, Minor Character Death, etc...
Torchwood Three The Hub
Cardiff, Wales 18th November, 1970
The Hub was a labyrinth of shadows and secrets, a place where every whisper seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unsolved mysteries. The low hum of machinery filled the silence, a constant, eerie soundtrack to the lives of those who dedicated themselves to protecting the world from what lurked beyond the Rift. But tonight, the usual sense of purpose and urgency that permeated the Hub was missing, replaced instead by an oppressive stillness.
Javic Thane stood alone in the briefing room, the space around him vast and empty, yet, to the Captain, felt suffocating all the same. The thin manila file in his hand felt impossibly heavy, as if it were made of lead rather than paper, and his blue eyes continued to attempt burning a hole into the name on the cover, watching as the letters seemed to blur and shift before him; transforming into a name that had been carved into his very soul - a name he just never seemed to be able to escape.
"You'll... see... one day... you'll find... me..."
His breath caught in his throat, disbelief and dread mingling in his chest like poison. The room seemed to close in on him, the walls pressing in as the weight of the past bore down with an unforgiving force.
How could it be?
How could her name appear here - now - after all this time?
It wasn't just the name itself, though, that had shivers racing their way down Javic's spine - it was what the name represented: the memories, the nightmares, the very promises and pain that it dragged to the surface.
The Captain continued to stare down at the file, his vision blurring as the edges of the paper dug into his skin. But the slight pain was nothing compared to the storm of emotions currently swirling inside.
Lieutenant Marcus Linde was just another recruit, a decorated officer with a sharp mind and resourcefulness that would make him a perfect candidate for Torchwood Three. But it wasn't his qualifications that had Javic feeling troubled, it was the connection - the undeniable link to the woman who haunted his every waking moment and whose death had left a wound that would never heal.
His mind raced as memories crashed over him like waves in a storm: the last time he had seen Ingrid, the look in her eyes as she'd whispered those final words.
At the time, her words had made little sense, a riddle spoken in the final moments of life. But now, standing there with Marcus Linde's file - Ingrid's own father's file in his hand, the truth of her words hit Javic with the force of a freight train.
She had known.
She had always known.
Somehow, in her last moments, Ingrid had revealed a future Javic had spent years trying to forget - a future he was now staring in the face.
The Captain's grip on the file tightened further, the edges now cutting into his skin, grounding him in the present - even as the past continued to try and overwhelm him.
He couldn't let this happen, couldn't let Marcus join Torchwood Three - couldn't risk bringing him into the fold and watching as history repeated itself.
The temptation to see him, to find even a glimmer of Ingrid in the man, was already too strong, too dangerous, and Javic knew if he allowed it, it would be like throwing a match onto dry tinder - sparking a fire that would consumer everything in its path and inevitably lead to the moment he feared most - the moment when the past would catch up to him and set into motion the events that would end with Ingrid's death.
Javic's thoughts raced, colliding in a chaotic whirlwind of guilt, fear, and determination. He knew what the others would say, how they'd argue that Marcus would be an asset, a valuable addition to the team. But they didn't know what he knew. They didn't understand that the future was already set in stone, that the path that could - that would - lead to Ingrid's death was already paved.
But... how could he possibly explain that to them?
How could he tell them he feared meeting the man's daughter in a future he couldn't change? That he feared the inevitable moment when his past self would meet Ingrid and set off a chain of events that would end with her dying in his arms?
He couldn't. Not, at least, without revealing too much - without unravelling the web of secrets that had bound him since that accursed day on Platform One.
The file was suddenly slammed down onto the table, the echoing sound snapping Javic out of his spiralling thoughts. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the hum of the Hub's machinery as he tried to steady himself. He needed to think, needed to figure out a way to convince them that Marcus Linde was not right for Torchwood Three, that bringing the Lieutenant in would be a mistake.
But... what could he possibly say? What possible excuse could he give them?
The door of the briefing room creaking open, and the Captain looked up just in time to see Agent Liam Collins step into the room, his presence as solid and unyielding as ever. As Torchwood's Head of Recruitment, Liam had an uncanny knack for spotting potential and an even sharper intuition for when something was amiss, and Javic didn't miss the way Liam's green eyes flickered from his tense posture to the file on the table, assessing the situation with a single glance.
"You've gone through the file, then," the Agent stated more than asked, his tone neutral but probing, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickered back to the pale hand still pressed atop the file. "And your thoughts, Captain?"
Liam's voice was as even as ever, but Javic knew the man well enough to catch the subtle undertone of his curiosity, perhaps even suspicion. It was in the slight arch of his brow, the way his arms crossed over his chest as if bracing him for whatever answer Javic might give. The question had been a loaded one, and yet Javic still found himself hesitating, his mind scrambling to come up with something - anything - that wouldn't give away his most treasured secrets.
He knew he had to be careful, however - Liam was too perceptive, too good at reading between the lines.
The name on the file continued to burn in his mind, a name that should have meant nothing more than another potential recruit. But it wasn't just any name, Marcus wasn't just any recruit. He was someone irrevocably tied to a past Javic had sworn to never revisit - a past that had already cost him more than he could bear.
"He's capable," Javic finally revealed, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "But I'm not sure he'd be right here."
Liam's eyebrow rose a fraction higher, clearly not satisfied with the vague response. "A decorated officer, highly resourceful, sharp as a tack. If he's not right for Torchwood Three, then who is, Captain?"
The challenge in his tone was clear, the Head of Recruitment not one to let such a pitiful statement slide without a proper explanation, and Javic swallowed as the weight of those green eyes pressed down on him. The truth danced on the tip of his tongue, the memories of Ingrid, of that fateful yet horrifying day, threatening to spill out.
But he couldn't let that happen - not now, not ever.
"It's not about his qualifications," he said slowly, carefully choosing each word, knowing that any one of them could be a potential misstep. "It's about... timing. Bringing him in now might not be the best move."
"Timing..." Liam repeated, the single word hanging in the air like a loaded gun. And he leaned back on his heels, his gaze narrowing slightly as he searched the Captain's face for any cracks in his façade. "You're not telling me everything, are you Jack?"
Javic's heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to maintain his neutral expression. "There are factors that still need to be considered, ones that go beyond what's on paper, Agent Collins," he said, meeting those green eyes with as much calm as he could muster. "I don't think he's the right fit for the current team dynamic."
Liam studied him for a long moment, the silence between them thickening with unspoken questions. Javic could feel the man's gaze probing, trying to peel back the layers of what he wasn't saying. But he couldn't - wouldn't - crack now and let Agent Collins see the truth. Not now, not when everything was so precariously balanced.
Finally, the man nodded, though the scepticism hadn't been entirely wiped from his features. "Alright," he replied, his tone thoughtful. "If you are that concerned, we could assign him to Torchwood Four instead. They could use someone with the Lieutenant's skills, and it keeps him out of the immediate fold. What do you think?"
Relief washed over Javic, though he kept his expression steady. Torchwood Four was far enough away, isolated enough that the risk would be minimised - could be maintained. It wasn't exactly what he'd hoped for, but it was a compromise he could live with. "That could work," he breathed, his voice once more controlled. "Let's see how he does there first."
Liam nodded again, though his gaze lingered on Javic for a moment longer, as if he were still trying to unravel the mystery behind his reluctance. But in the end, he simply turned to leave, the file seemingly forgotten as he said over his shoulder, "I'll make the arrangements. But keep an eye on this one, Captain. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of him."
As the door clicked shut behind Liam, Javic finally allowed himself to exhale, the tension draining from his body. But even as he pushed the file away, pushed the memories it had dragged up, he knew that this was only a temporary reprieve. The future was still out there, waiting, and the past was a shadow Javic knew he could never outrun.
For now, though, he had brought himself some time - time to figure out how to keep the past from repeating itself and how to keep Marcus Linde as far away from the path that would eventually lead to Ingrid.
But how long could he hope to keep the two apart? How long before the web of fate closed its noose around them all once more?
Alone again, Javic let out a shaky breath, his hand trembling as he ran it through his hair.
With Marcus now heading to Norway, the temptation was at least a little further out of his reach.
Cardiff Wales
1st of January, 2000
06:59:00...01...02 AM
The Captain moved with a deliberate slowness, each step carefully measured as though to anchor himself to the present, a futile attempt to resist the undertow of memories that threatened to drag him back to the past. But it was a losing battle. They came, unbidden, as they always did - waves of the past crashing relentlessly against the fragile shore of his consciousness. No matter how hard he tried to bury them, to lock them away in the recesses of his mind, they surged forth, insistent and unforgiving.
Agent Liam Collins.
His face flickered across Javic's mind, those piercing green eyes narrowed with suspicion as they continued to seek the answers Javic had never let slip passed his lips. Yet, how could have the Captain explain the impossible choice that had - and still did - loom before him? How could he have made Liam understand the unbearable weight of the decision he had been forced to make, a decision that had haunted him every single day since?
The file.
That damned file.
Javic could still feel its weight in his hands, though it was nothing compared to the burden of the choice that had come with it.
Marcus Linde - Lieutenant Marcus Linde.
The name sent a shiver down his spine, a ghost that lingered in the shadows of his mind, never fully gone.
Marcus Linde - Ingrid's father: a man Javic had never met, yet who had still managed to leave an indelible mark on his soul.
That night, that night had been when everything had changed.
His breath hitched as he remembered how close he had come to losing everything, to exposing the secrets he had hidden so deep within himself. He had almost failed, almost let Marcus slip through his fingers and into Torchwood Three's clutches - almost broken the promise he had sworn to keep. But somehow, through sheer force of will alone, he had managed to steer the Lieutenant away - had sent him to Norway, far from Cardiff, far from the path that would have inevitably brought Ingrid back into his life.
A cold gust of wind suddenly swept down the street, tugging at Javic's coat, as if trying to snap him out of his reverie. But the memories were too strong, too entrenched, and he couldn't shake them off. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, the muscles in his arms tensing as he struggled to push the past away. But it was, as always, relentless; dragging him back to that moment, to the moment when he had almost lost everything.
It wasn't just Ingrid he'd been protecting - it was himself. Because Javic knew that if Marcus had come to Cardiff, if the Lieutenant had stayed, Ingrid would have not long followed, would have crossed paths with Javic, might have even become entangled in the very world he had tried so hard to keep her out of. And Javic, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if that had happened, he would have broken his promise to stay away from her, to keep her safe, and in less time it took his heart to beat. He would have been drawn to her, as he had always been, and the consequences would have been disastrous.
A suddenly noise jolted Javic back to the present - the sound of a glass bottle rolling across the pavement, clattering against the curb before coming to a rest in the gutter. Javic turned, his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse a rapid thrum in his ears, and for a moment he just stood there, staring at the bottle as if it held some kind of answer, some kind of solace.
But it was just a glass bottle, discarded and forgotten, like so many other things in the city, and the Captain forced himself to take a breath, to push the memories back into the box he had built for them and lock them away once more.
Yet, even as he resumed his walk, his thoughts took a darker turn, shifting once again from Ingrid and to the man who had set him on this endless cycle of reminiscence, pain, and regret in the first place: Michael Smythe.
Reporter.
Hunter.
Cold-blooded killer.
The cold, alien landscape stretched out before Agent Javic Thane, a barren landscape of blue-tinged sand under a dull, clouded purple sky. Javic pulled his jacket tighter around him, feeling the biting wind whip through his hair, and his heart was but a beating drum of excitement and nerves, swirling together in a maelstrom of emotions as he scanned the horizon. This was his first mission 'off-world' - his chance to prove himself, and not just to the Time Agency, but to the legendary Hunter himself.
But so far, the young Agent felt invisible.
The Hunter walked several paces ahead, his long, black cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. His sharp features remained fixed - unreadable; his amber eyes locked on the distance. He hadn't said a word to Javic since their arrival, and if he didn't know better, he might've thought the Hunter hadn't even noticed him.
Salin Dans, walking beside the young Agent, could only smirk at his discomfort. The older man had a swagger about him that spoke of countless successful missions and an attitude that nothing could faze. His hair was tousled by the wind, but his green eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced at Javic.
"Relax, mate," he said, chuckling as he watched Javic fidget with his gloves. "The Hunter's not much for small talk. Doesn't mean he's ignoring you though."
Javic could only shoot him a doubtful look. "Could've fooled me. He hasn't even looked my way since we left the ship."
Salin's grin only widened. "That's how he operates. Just keep your eyes open, and you'll learn more from watching him than you would from a thousand briefings."
Javic could only nod with a sigh, glancing at the Hunter's back. He felt like a shadow trailing after a legend, with nothing of value to offer. The desert planet seemed to close in on him, each step heavier than the last, and still, the Hunter said nothing.
They walked in silence for a while longer, the wind rustling through the dunes. Javic was lost in his thoughts, wondering what was even the point of him being there, when, without warning, the Hunter suddenly stopped.
"Agent Dans, what planet is this again?" he asked, his voice calm but cutting through the air like a blade.
Salin blinked, confused for a moment. "Tyrant-4 last I checked. Why?"
The Hunter turned slightly, his gaze falling on Salin with an unnerving precision even as his lip twitched into a small, enigmatic smile. "Because this is not Tyrant-4..."
"What are you-"
"...and we've just walked into an ambush," the Agent continued casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.
Before either Salin or Javic could fully process what the hell the Hunter had just said, the air around them crackled with energy as figures emerged from the dunes like ants rising through cracks in the ground; armed, armoured, and moving in perfect formation - a trap.
Yet it was a woman emerging from the approaching Sappers that drew Javic's attention. Her dark hair whipped around her face, and her blue eyes burned with an eerie intensity as she moved across the dunes, almost as if she belonged there; as if every step she took was but another equation calculated and solved upon the path of life. And the way her lips curved, twisting into a malevolent smile, as her blue eyes fell upon the Hunter had something in Agent's gut twisting.
"Liera," Salin murmured, almost sighed, beside Javic; his voice but a breath of grim exasperation. "Of course it'd be her."
"You know her?" Javic whispered with no little surprise.
"Yeah," was nodded with a grimace. "She's got this vendetta or something against the Hunter. Dunno what about, but it's not the first time we've crossed paths. Careful, yeah. She's ruthless, smart, cold; sort of like the Hunter, actually."
"Sounds like a match made in hell," Javic couldn't help but mutter, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as he scanned the approaching Sappers - trained, lethal, and utterly devoid of mercy. His first mission with the Hunter, and he could already feel the gravity of the situation deep within his bones.
Whatever this woman, Liera, had planned, Javic could already feel that it wasn't going to end well.
The woman was a vision of controlled chaos, moving with a grace that was almost predatory; her every step deliberate, her gaze fixed on the Hunter with an intensity that sent a chill down Javic's spine. She was beautiful in a way that was terrifying - dark hair whipping in the wind, blue eyes like ice, and that smile, twisted with malice, promised no joy, only pain.
"Hunter," Liera called out, her voice carrying over the wind, sultry and venomous; like a siren luring sailors to their doom. "Fancy meeting you here. Fate truly does have a funny way of bringing us together, don't you think?"
The Hunter didn't reply, remaining silent; the only tell he heard being his eyes narrowing. Though he didn't need to speak; his silence a challenge in itself, a clear refusal to play into her games.
Liera's smile, however, only widened; a flash of teeth that reminded Javic of a predator about to strike. "Oh, come now, darling. Don't be shy. I've missed our little... engagements. There's nothing quite like the thrill of crossing paths with an old friend, especially one who's finally accepted his fate."
Salin shifted uneasily beside Javic, his features scrunching up into something akin to disgust. "Don't listen to her, yeah," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper as he spared Javic a warning glance. "She'll say anything to get under your skin."
But the young Agent could see that Liera's words weren't just empty taunts. There was a history here, something deep and bitter that neither the Hunter nor Salin were willing to share. And yet, he could feel the weight of it pressing down on them all.
"Accept my fate?" the Hunter finally spoke, his voice low and even, with just a hint of amusement. "You've always had a flair for the dramatic, Liera. But you should know by now - I don't accept anything unless I've already beaten it."
The air crackled with tension as the words left the Hunter's lips, hanging in the space between the two opposing forces like a drawn blade, and yet Liera's smile didn't falter. In fact, it seemed to grow, curling at the edges with a kind of perverse pleasure as she took another step forward, her movements almost feline, graceful and dangerous, like a panther circling its prey.
"Oh, I know," she purred, her voice dripping with mockery. "Yet that's what makes you so much fun. Always fighting, always struggling - like a fish caught in a net, thrashing about even though the end is inevitable. But what's the point, Hunter? What are you fighting for, really? You've never quite managed to outwit your destiny."
The Hunter's expression remained unreadable, his eyes locked onto Liera's with a steely calm. "Destiny..." he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. "That is but a lie people use when they do not want to take responsibility of their choices," he revealed, his tone measured and cold. "You should know that better than anyone."
Liera laughed, a sound as sharp as the edge of a blade. "It's so charming when you pretend to be so high-minded. Truly, it's almost endearing. But don't you think for a second that your philosophical musings will save you today." She took another step closer, her eyes glinting with a knowing, dangerous glimmer. "You see, I've had all the time in the world to plan this little reunion. And I've grown quite fond of the idea of watching you struggle."
The Hunter's lip twitched, a ghost of a smile crossing his face before he nodded slightly, "I'm sure you have. But if you are hoping for an easy victory, you will be disappointed. The calculations have finally changed, Liera, and it's about time you realised that."
Blue eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and something far more sinister as Liera absorbed the Hunter's words. Her smile, twisted and venomous, still played about her lips as she took a deliberate step closer, closing the distance between them, and the wind carried the scent of ionized air, a subtle reminder of the weapons poised to strike at a moment's notice.
"Calculations?" she echoed, her tone laced with contempt. "Hunter, you've always been too clever for your own good. But this isn't one of your puzzles. This is reality, and reality doesn't care for your clever little tricks."
She continued her advance, her movements fluid and controlled as she closed the distance between them. "You've been running for so long," she said, "Playing your little games, hiding behind that cold exterior. But deep down, you surely have realised the truth? You know that, eventually, everyone meets their end, even for men like you."
The words hung in the air, charged with a malice that sent a shiver down Javic's spine. Liera's voice was like poisoned honey, sweet and lethal as it weaved a web of taunts and threats that seemed to tighten around the Hunter with each passing moment. But the Hunter, he remained unfazed, his amber eyes locked onto those piercing blue orbs with a calm that was bordered on unnerving. He didn't flinch, didn't blink, as though he were carved from stone. But Javic could sense the undercurrent of tension, the slight coiling of muscles beneath the surface - like a hunter about to strike.
Liera was so close she could have reached out and touched the Hunter now, her eyes locked onto the Agent's with an intensity that made the air around them seem charged with electricity. Javic could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, every instinct screaming at him to move, to do something - anything - to break the spell that the woman seemed to be weaving with her words. Yet he found himself frozen.
"You think you can scare me with your words?" the Hunter finally replied, his voice as cold as the desert night. "You have always underestimated me, Liera. That is why you have never been able to beat me."
That venomous smile remained on Liera's lips, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes - a flash of irritation that she quickly masked with another taunting laugh. "Oh, darling," she drawled with a false sweetness. "I don't need to scare you. I've already won. You just don't know it yet."
She took a final step forward, stepping into the Hunter's personal space until there was but a hairsbreadth of distance between them, and she reached up with a hand, her fingertips barely brushing against his cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "You always were so handsome," she murmured, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "But, tell me, how does it feel to know that you've failed? That everything you've done, everything you've fought for, has led to this moment? To me?"
The Hunter's eyes flicked down to her hand, but he didn't move to stop her. "As I said, Liera, the calculations have shifted," he replied, his own voice calm, steady. "I guess it is just you that has not realised this."
Liera's smile twitched ever so slightly, her fingers lingering on his skin as if savouring the touch of the man she'd spent so long hunting. Her grip on his cheek tightened just fraction before her hand dropped. "You always did love your riddles," she replied almost mournfully before, "But even the cleverest of hunters can't change what's inevitable."
The words were like a trigger, and for a split second, everything seemed to freeze. The wind, the sand, even the very air seemed to hold its breath as the two enemies locked eyes. Then, with a sudden, brutal motion, Liera's other hand darted forward, a hidden dagger gleaming in the dull light. But the Hunter's hand shot out, catching her wrist in a vice-like grip just as the blade was about to pierce his side, his amber eyes never leaving her piercing blue.
"You always were predictable, Liera," he murmured, his voice a low and dangerous growl. "But you should know by now that I'm not so easily caught off guard."
Liera's smile never faltered, even as the Hunter held her wrist in a grip that would have made most people wince. "Predictable? Perhaps," she whispered, leaning in closer. "But I've learned a few new tricks since we last met."
The words were barely out of her mouth before Liera twisted her body, using the momentum to free her hand from the Hunter's grip. The movement was so fluid, so practiced, that Javic barely registered it before she struck again, and this time the blade found its mark, sinking into the Hunter's side with a sickening thud, the sharp metallic scent of blood mingling with the desert air. But instead of resisting, instead of trying to stop her, the Hunter did something that made Javic's breath catch in his throat.
He didn't move, didn't even flinch; his features a mask of detachment, betraying no pain, no fear, as he let the blade sink in, as though he had expected - no, accepted - this outcome all along.
Liera's eyes met the Hunter's, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she twisted the blade, driving it deeper, clearly savouring the moment. And she leaned in close once more, her voice was a low, venomous whisper as she taunted, "The calculations may have shifted, Hunter. But you are still just a man, and all men bleed."
The Hunter's reaction, however, was not what she expected - no cry of pain, no flash of agony appearing within his amber eyes. Instead, his lips slowly curved into the faintest smiles - an expression that was more chilling than reassuring - as his hand moved to cover Liera's, his grip tight around the hilt the dagger as he pushed its blade deeper into his side, a deliberate, calculated move that sent of shock of realisation through her blue eyes.
"Men may bleed, and men may even die," he agreed slowly, carefully; his chest rising in a slow, deliberate motion as he took in a breath, letting it out just as consciously as he continued. "But not today."
Liera's eyes widened, her confidence faltering for the first time. "Why you-!" she began, but the Hunter cut her off, his voice now laced with a quiet fury that sliced through the air with a sharpness akin to the very blade embedded into his side.
"You should know by now, Liera," he growled, "You cannot kill what has not yet chosen to die."
Liera's mask of certainty shattered at the Hunter's words, her eyes widening as she tried to yank the blade free, but his grip was unyielding, his strength far surpassing what she remembered, what should have even been possible. And the sudden realisation of her mistake, of having once again fallen into the Hunter's trap, flickered across her features - and predator suddenly became prey.
"Let go," she hissed with no little desperation, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and rage. She struggled against the Hunter, pulling at the blade with all her might, but it was as if the weapon had fused with his flesh, had become a part of him.
His expression remained cold, almost detached, as he watched her struggle, his amber eyes piercing with a calculated intensity that spoke of years of battle-hardened resolve. And his voice was barely above a whisper, yet carried the weight of a thousand spoken threats as he told her, "You wanted to see me bleed, Liera. Now, watch," before, with a sudden yet brutal motion, he ripped the blade from his side himself, the sound of tearing flesh and the sharp scent of blood filling the air.
Liera stumbled back, the dagger slipping from her grasp as she stared in horror at the gaping wound, the crimson liquid blooming like a dark stain on the Hunter's clothes as he held the blade aloft, like a dark and twisted trophy.
Javic, frozen in place, could only watch as the scene unfolded before him. His training screamed at him to intervene, to do something, but he felt paralysed by the sheer force of the emotions coursing through the air - the Hunter's unyielding resolve, Liera's fear, and his own helplessness in the face of such raw, primal violence.
The Hunter's eyes never left Liera as he tossed the blood-soaked blade to the ground with a casual flick of his wrist. "This is your last chance, Liera," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Leave now, and you might just live to see another day."
The words hung in the air; a challenge, a statement of defiance that resonated with an authority that sent a ripple of unease through everyone present, and Javic felt his heart pounding in his chest, his mind reeling with the implications of what he was witnessing.
For a moment, it seemed as though Liera would take the offer, her eyes flickering to the bloody dagger on the ground and then back to the Hunter, who stood before her like an immovable force of nature. But then something dark and twisted flared in her blue eyes, her voice dripping with venom, as she spat, "Never." Her hand darted to something up her sleeve as she added, "You think you can scare me, Hunter? I've spent far too lon-!"
But before she could reach whatever she had hidden, a shot rang out, the sharp crack of gunfire echoing across the desert as Salin reacted - his blaster out and firing before the thought had even fully formed in his mind.
The shot was fast, deadly accurate, but Liera was faster still. She twisted away from the Hunter, dodging the shot with a dancer's grace, her smile returning with a savage satisfaction as, the moment she was clear, the Sappers were on them, firing with a ruthless precision. The desert erupted into chaos, the sharp cracks of blaster fire echoing across the dunes as both sides sprang into action.
Javic dived to the side, barely managed to avoid a bolt that scorched the sand where he'd been standing. He rolled into cover behind a jagged outcrop, his own blaster ending up in his hands out of pure reflex, and the world narrowed until all he saw, until all he heard and felt were the frantic exchange of fire, the shouts and curses of Salin and the Sappers, and the searing heat of the desert sun beating down on them all.
Salin's emerald eyes were narrowed in concentration as he fired off shots at the advancing Sappers, while the Hunter, wounded but still moving with a deadly precision, had taken cover behind a nearby rock, returning fire with a calm, calculated efficiency that belied the blood soaking through his shirt.
Javic's mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos around him, but there was no time to think - only to act. He could see the Sappers advancing, their armoured forms weaving through the dunes as they closed in, blasters spitting deadly bolts of energy. They returned fire, picking off them off one-by-one, but more Sappers were closing in, emerging from the dunes like ants, their weapons already trained on the trio. Liera was nowhere to be seen, lost in the chaos of the firefight, but her presence was felt in every shot fired, every calculated move made by her forces as she directed them; guiding the very battle with a ruthless precision that left no room for error.
The Agent suddenly ducked as a volley of blaster fire ripped through the air above him, the heat of the blasts singeing the tips of his hair. His fingers were tight on the trigger of his own blaster, hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline and fear coursing through him. He wasn't built for this - this kind of war, this kind of precision. He was still new, still technically green, and though he had trained, nothing had prepared him for a battle like this, with enemies as relentless and dangerous as these Sappers.
Another blast hit the outcrop Javic was hiding behind, sending fragments of rock raining down on the young man, and he gritted his teeth, brushing the debris from his face as he peeked over the edge of the rock, scanning the battlefield. Salin had moved, now crouched behind another outcrop to his left, firing with practiced precision at any Sapper that dared to move within his range. The Hunter, however, hadn't moved. He was bleeding heavily, his motions slower than before, though no less calculated. Even wounded, the man remained a force of calm control, but even Javic could see the toll it was taking.
Javic's focus suddenly shifted as he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye - a Sapper who'd managed to break from the main group unnoticed. He could see the Sapper's blaster trained on the Hunter, who was preoccupied with the ones directly in front of him, and without thinking, Javic acted.
Springing to his feet, ignoring the blaster fire whizzing past him, he levelled his weapon at the flanking Sapper. His mind was bit a blur of adrenaline and instinct, but his shot hit true, the Sapper crumpling, its blaster falling from limp fingers.
Yet Javic barely had time to register the relief before he heard the click of a weapon and the air rippled before him.
Liera.
A vortex manipulator sparkled faintly on her wrist as she pressed the barrel of her blaster to his forehead, her eyes narrowing with deadly intent. "You weren't originally part of the plan," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, "But adjustments can always be made."
Before Javic could react, Liera moved; but a blur of motion faster than he could track, and by the time he realised what was happening, her blaster was gone, her empty hand instead wrapped around his wrist and twisting painfully. His own blaster clattered to the ground as he gasped in pain, but it was a gasp short-lived; Liera's other hand already wrapping around his throat, her grip tight enough to make breathing nigh impossible.
"Look at you... you're just a child playing at war, pretending to be something you're not. But don't worry, I can help. I can make it quick."
Javic struggled against her grip as it tightened, his free hand clawing at her arm as he tried to break free, but it was no use. She was too strong, and the edges of his vision were starting to blur as his air supply was cut off. Panic surged through him, but he forced it down, trying to think, tried to figure out some way out of this.
And then, just as darkness began to creep into the edges of his vision, he heard it - a familiar, low, and dangerous drawl that sent a shiver down his spine.
The Hunter.
"Let him go," the man ordered, his voice ice-cold as he appeared behind Liera as if from nowhere, his own blaster pressed to the side of her head.
For a moment, Liera hesitated, her eyes flickering with fury and frustration. But then, her lips curled into a snarl as she sneered, "You're wounded, Hunter. You can't save him. You can't even save yourself."
"I don't need to protect myself," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of finality. "I just need to stop you."
The tension was palpable, crackling like static in the air, yet the Hunter's threat seemed to be enough to make Liera hesitate. And with a growl of frustration, she finally loosened her grip around Javic's throat, releasing him just enough to allow the Agent to breath.
Seizing the opportunity, Javic didn't waste a moment as he wrenched himself free from her grasp, stumbling away from her reach. He collapsed to the ground, clutching at his throat and gasping for breath, his heart racing as he tried to regain his composure. Though, and the moment he was out of way, Liera was moving again, her body a blur of motion as she spun on her heel and struck, her fist connecting with the Hunter's already wounded side with an unrelenting ruthlessness that drove the breath from his lungs.
The Hunter staggered, but he didn't fall. Instead, he lashed out, his eyes flashing as his hand caught Liera by the throat, lifting her off the ground with the strength that defied his injuries.
Yet still Liera's blue eyes flashed with something dark, something triumphant - even as the Hunter's grip tightened around her throat. "You can't win," she hissed, her voice strained but still full of venom. "Yo-you never could."
The Hunter didn't respond. He just squeezed, his face a mask of grim resolve. But even as he held her, even from his place gasping on the ground, Javic could see the toll it was taking. The man's strength was fading fast, the blood loss dragging him down, weakening him with every passing second.
Liera must have sensed it too, because her lips suddenly curled into a smile; a twisted, mocking grin, before, with a sudden, violent motion, she drove her knee into the Hunter's stomach, forcing him to release her. She landed on her feet, graceful and deadly as a viper, as she drew another dagger from up her sleeve.
Javic's heart stopped as he watched her raise the blade, the sunlight glinting off the razor-sharp edge, and time seemed to slow, every second stretching into an eternity as Liera moved with the fluidity of a seasoned predator. The Hunter barely had time to react, his instincts guiding him as he raised his arm to block the strike. The blade bit into his flesh, carving a deep gash into his forearm, but he didn't flinch. He gritted his teeth, his eyes locked onto Liera's enraged sapphire-blue, his focus unyielding despite the pain radiating through his body.
For a heartbeat, they were locked in a deadly dance - Liera's dagger slashing through the air with a ruthless precision, and the Hunter countering with measured strikes, his blaster forgotten in favour of raw hand-to-hand combat. Blood slicked the sand beneath them, turning the blue sand a dark and eerie purple; a testament to the ferocity of their battle, as Javic continued to watch from where he'd fallen, still struggling to catch his breath and process the madness playing out before him. His throat burned, each gulp of air feeling like shards of glass, but he forced himself to move, to crawl towards his blaster. His fingers brushed the cold metal, and he grasped it tightly, willing his shaking hands to steady.
The sound of scuffling, dodging, and laboured breathing filled the air as Liera and the Hunter continued their brutal exchange. The Hunter's movements were slowing, the loss of blood and fatigue clearly taking their toll, but his resolve remained unbroken; something of which only had Liera growing more frenzied, her strikes becoming more erratic, driven by a deep-seated rage.
"You're nothing but a relic," she spat, her voice laced with venom as she feigned a lunge to the Hunter's left, only to twist her wrist and slash at his right. The blade found its mark, tearing through the fabric of his coat and slicing into his side, and the Hunter grunted in pain, but his expression remained cold - unwavering.
"And yet, here I am," he replied, his voice low and steady. "Still standing."
Liera's eyes narrowed, a flicker of doubt flashing across her face. And she stepped back, changing tacts as she instead begun to circle the Hunter like a predator sizing up its prey. "You're bleeding out, Hunter," she hissed. "It's only a matter of time before you collapse. Why keep fighting? Why prolong what we already know is inevitable?"
The Hunter didn't answer. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes said it all - defiance, determination, and a grim understanding that this fight was about more than just survival. It was about something deeper, something that Liera could never fully comprehend.
But Liera wasn't one to back down easily, and with a snarl, she lunged forwards, her dagger slashing at the Agent's throat. Yet he sidestepped the attack, grabbing her wrist in a vice-like grip and twisted it sharply, causing the dagger fall uselessly to the ground.
Liera still didn't stop, however, the woman pivoting on her heel and using the momentum to deliver a crushing blow to the Hunter's jaw. The impact sent him stumbling backward, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. She continued her advance, her movements swift and relentless, but this time, the Hunter was ready. He ducked beneath her next strike, driving his shoulder into her midsection and sending them both crashing to the ground.
They grappled, their bodies entangled in a vicious struggle for dominance. Liera's fingers clawed at the Hunter's face, her nails raking across his skin, drawing even more blood. But his grip was like iron, unbreakable even as pain and fatigue threatened to overwhelm him.
In the chaos, Javic finally managed to get back to his feet, his aim shaky as he raised his blaster, his vision blurred by the remnants of his earlier asphyxiation. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest of his movements, but he forced himself to focus, to line up the shot.
"Hunter!"
His voice was hoarse, barely more than a rasp, but it cut through the noise of the struggle, amber eyes flickering toward him just long enough for the Hunter to register the blaster in his hands. And with a final burst of strength, he twisted Liera's arm behind her back, pinning her to the ground. She thrashed beneath him, a guttural scream of rage tearing from her throat as she fought to break free. But he didn't let go, his grip as unrelenting as his will.
"Do it," he ground out instead, his voice resolute as those amber eyes once more flickered up to meet Javic's now-widening blue.
Javic hesitated at the command, his finger hovering over the trigger. He could see the desperation in Liera's eyes as she struggled to break free, the fury that bordered on madness. But there was something else too - a glint of fear, of vulnerability - and for a slip second, he felt his resolve waver.
It was all the time Liera needed, however; the woman seizing the moment and wrenching her body to the side with a ferocity that took Javic by surprise. She broke free from the Hunter's hold, rolling away and scrambling to her feet.
Her eyes locked onto Javic, and a twisted smile spread across her bloodied face.
"Oh, bad move, Agent," she sneered, her voice dripping with malice as she reached for her vortex manipulator, and Javic's heart raced as he realised what she was about to do.
Without thinking, he fired his blaster.
The bolt struck true, hitting the manipulator dead-on, and the device erupted in a shower of sparks and smoke, short-circuiting in a violent burst of energy. Liera's eyes widened in shock and pain as the energy coursed through her arm, staggering as the manipulator disintegrating in a flash of blue and white light. Her expression twisted into a mask of agony, her composure shattered as she let out a visceral scream as the pain cut through her with a ferocity that took even her by surprise.
But her pain quickly morphed into something else - a pure, unbridled rage. Her eyes, once cold and calculating, now burned with a seething fury as they locked onto Javic, and the young Agent felt a chill run down his spine as he saw the shift in her demeanour; the way her muscles tensed, coiling like a spring ready to snap.
Without warning, Liera lunged for her fallen dagger, her movements driven by a desperate, almost animalistic need for vengeance. The blade gleamed in the harsh light of the sun, a deadly promise in her grip as she surged toward Javic, her intent clear in every line of her body, and Javic barely had time to react.
Instincts screamed at him to move, to do something, but his limbs felt sluggish, his mind struggling to process the sudden shift in the situation - and Liera was upon him in an instant, the dagger poised to strike. For a split second, the young Agent saw his own death reflected in her eyes, and he braced himself for the impact.
But... it never came.
At the last possible second, a hand shot out from nowhere, grabbing a fistful of Liera's hair and yanking the woman back with such force that her feet left the ground. She landed hard as she was tossed aside, the impact knocking the wind out of her and causing her to release the hold she had on the dagger. But she was already scrambling to her feet, her eyes blazing with fury as they turned to the one who'd stopped her.
The Hunter didn't give her a chance to recover, however. The man was on her in an instant, his knee connecting with her stomach before his fist slammed into her jaw in a bone-crunching punch that sent her reeling. Liera staggered, blood pouring from her mouth, but she didn't fall, didn't yield. Instead, she spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, her expression twisted into a snarl.
"Is that all you've got, Hunter?" she taunted, wiping the blood from her chin with the back of her hand. "I expected more from you."
The Agent didn't reply. He simply advanced, his movements deliberate and controlled. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his actions - he was going to end this, once and for all.
Liera saw it too; the finality in his eyes, the cold determination that said he was beyond done playing her games, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine fear crossed her features. Yet it was a fear quickly masked with anger, her voice filled with venom as she spat, "You think you can stop me? You're just a man, Hunter. A man who's bleeding out. You're weak. You're-"
But it was too late. Liera never got to finish the sentence as the Hunter's hand shot out, faster than Javic could hope to follow, and in an instant, he had Liera by the throat, lifting her off the ground with a strength that seemed impossible given his condition. Her hands clawed at his arm, her eyes with panic as she struggled to breathe.
"You talk too much," he said coldly, his voice as sharp as a blade. "You always have."
Liera struggled, her hands clawing at his grip as she gasped for air, but it was no use. The Hunter's eyes were like burning embers, and Javic could see the raw, unfiltered fury in them, a force of nature that was terrifying to behold.
He tightened his grip, and Liera's struggles grew weaker, her body convulsing as she fought for air. Yet his expression never shifted, never changed; his eyes cold and distant as he watched the life drain from her eyes.
The memory of the Hunter's cold, calculated actions was a scene seared into his mind, a constant reminder of the brutal reality they had once both inhabited. Liera, with all her defiance and fury, had been nothing more than an obstacle for the Agent - a threat that had to be neutralised, a lesson to be imparted with blood, and Javic had watched in horrified awe as the Hunter had torn the blade from his own side, blood pouring from the wound. Yet the Hunter's own expression had remained stoic, almost detached.
"You wanted to see me bleed, Liera. Now, watch."
And those words... those words had cut deeper than any blade ever could have hoped to. The Hunter had made it perfectly clear that mercy was not a luxury he afforded his enemies. There had been no hesitation, no regret, only the ruthless efficiency of a man who had understood the cost of power and was willing to pay it in full. It was the same ruthless efficiency that had shaped Javic, had forced him to confront the dark side of his own nature.
He had learned, in that moment, that there was no half measures in the world the Hunter resided in. It was a reality of absolutes, where hesitation could - would - mean death, and emotions were a liability; one the Hunter had clearly discarded long ago.
Or... so Javic had thought.
As he now watched Michael bumble his way through life, a stark contrast to the contrast to the cold and calculated man who had once dominated his every thought, the Captain couldn't help but question everything he'd once known about the Hunter.
How could the Agent who had once wielded death like a weapon, who had taken Liera's life - Javic's life - without the slightest bit of remorse, now present himself as someone so ordinary, so painfully... human? Michael's clumsy attempts at journalism, his awkward jokes, and his incessant 'ticks' - these were not the traits of a man who had once commanded the battlefield with an iron will. And yet, the occasional flicker Javic witnessed in those amber eyes, a flash of something dark and deeply buried, hinted at the truth he couldn't ignore.
The Hunter, he knew the Agent was still in there somewhere deep inside. But he was buried, suppressed by a persona that couldn't have been more different. It was as if the universe had played some cruel joke, fracturing the man Javic had once feared and revered into two distinct halves: the Hunter, with all his power and ruthlessness, and Michael Smythe, a man who seemed desperate to be seen as anything but.
Javic couldn't reconcile these two versions, and the more time he spent with Michael, the more he felt the lines between them blurring, leaving him disoriented and uncertain. It were as if he were being haunted by a ghost, a spectre of his past that refused to stay buried. And yet, there was something else - something that ate away at Javic's mind like a persistent itch: If Michael truly is the Hunter, then what had happened to him?
What could have possibly shattered that unyielding resolve, that ironclad control, to the point where the man now wandering Cardiff was almost unrecognisable?
The Captain's mind returned to Platform One, to the moment when everything he had known had changed. He remembered the pain, the shock, as the Hunter had turned his weapon on him. The betrayal had been swift, the bolt ripping through him before he had time to comprehend what was happening, and the Hunter had watched, not with malice, but with a chilling detachment that had made his treachery all the more bitter. It was as if Javic had been nothing more than a piece on a chessboard, a pawn to be sacrificed in some grand game he was yet to understand.
But... why?
Why had the Hunter saved him only to shoot him moments later? Why had he set Javic on this path of immortality, condemning him to a fate worse than death?
What could have been so valuable about the Captain that the Hunter had been willing to break his own code, to cast aside whatever bond they had shared?
Javic had once believed he knew the man enough to think that nothing the Hunter did was without purpose. Every action had been calculated, every decision pre-weighed against a myriad of outcomes - the Hunter did not make mistakes.
Yet, here he was, Michael Smythe, a man who seemed to be in constant conflict with himself, as if two minds were waging a silent war within. Javic wondered if the young man was even aware of the battle, or if he had buried the memories so deep that they only surfaced in those fleeting moments of nervousness and fear.
The thought, however, of the Hunter living in such a fractured state, torn between the man Javic had known and the man he had become, stirred something in the Captain that he hadn't felt in a long time - pity. The Hunter, he had always been a force of nature, unyielding and unstoppable, and to see him reduced to this... it was almost tragic.
But what could have caused such a transformation? What could turn a killer into a bumbling, cheerful reporter?
Javic's thoughts churned as he tried to piece together the mystery.
Was it all an act? A façade carefully constructed to hide the truth? Or had something happened - something the Captain couldn't yet see, that had split the Hunter into two different beings, leaving Michael to stumble through a life he didn't quite understand?
Another cold breeze swept through the streets, ruffling Javic's hair and sending a shiver down his spine. He pulled his coat tighter around him, trying to shut out the chill, but it was no use. The cold was inside him, a remnant of the moment the Hunter had pulled the trigger, a constant reminder of the man he had become.
But... just who was Michael Smythe, really?
Was he truly the cheerful reporter who seemed to bumble his way through life with nothing more than an innocent smile and quick wit? Or was he still the Hunter, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to strike?
As if in answer to his silent turmoil, a sound suddenly cut through the air - a shout, familiar and utterly terrified; a single word that sent a jolt of adrenaline through Javic's body even as he felt his heart freeze inside his chest.
"No!"
He knew that voice.
It was Michael.