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Chapter 9 by micdan282 micdan282

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Past in Armour

The air in the construction site smelt of wood and dirt. It was supposed to be a weapons deal—three cases, That’s what the chatter said. That’s what she’d tracked. But the place was empty.

Too empty.

Nightingale crept between rusted crates and broken scaffolding, her boots silent on the concrete. Her hands ready to grab her batons. Something wasn’t right. Her eyes swept across the shadowed space.

Nothing.

And then everything.

From the far end of the site, the darkness stirred—like smoke shifting into form. Metal hissed and groaned, followed by the unmistakable hum of power activating. She turned just as he stepped into the light.

The Rogue Knight.

Tall. Broad. His armor gleamed obsidian and gunmetal, His helmet’s single glowing slit of a visor locked onto her like a predator spotting prey. The nanobots swarmed down his arm forming a long sword in his hand.

Nightingale’s breath hitched in her chest.

She hadn’t seen him since he threw her off the parking complex like trash. The impact had nearly broken her back. Had haunted her every nightmare since. She still felt it sometimes—the weightlessness, the helpless drop, the bone-jarring crash.

But she stood her ground.

Barely.

“Well,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice, though her heart thudded against her ribs like a drumline. “After all the problems I’ve caused the Supplier, I figured he’d send you sooner.”

Rogue Knight replied with a cackle. “It’s good seeing you again bitch. How long did it take you to heal from the last beating I gave you?” He started walking towards her, the floor cracking slightly under his boots.

She swallowed hard. Her fingers trembled just slightly as she reached for a stun baton. Her body remembered the last time too well.

He kept walking.

She activated the baton with a flick, the blue arcs of electricity crackling like angry fireflies. Her eyes never left his.

“Come on,” he said, his voice condescending, “You don’t think you’ll be able to beat me?”

“I guess I won’t go easy on you this time,” She replied, trying to sound as brave as possible. But she couldn’t help it—deep down, beneath the bravado and the training, she was scared.

Terrified, actually. But she wouldn’t run.

“Let’s do this,” she said, bracing herself.

And then, without a word, he lunged.

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