Chapter 12: Hardships
Part 3 – Shadows and Scars
(Some wounds aren’t meant to be stitched. Some questions aren’t meant to have answers.)
Interior – Underground Bunker – MedBay – 3:48 a.m.
Tom lay stretched out on the medical table, his armor peeled back, the cut in his thigh still raw, bleeding slowly. The slice had gone just beneath the plating, clean, intentional—a warning.
Layla hovered beside him with surgical gloves on, stitching the wound with careful precision. She didn’t speak at first. Her expression was tight. Focused.
Ø LAYLA (finally): “An inch deeper, and she’d have clipped your femoral artery.”
Ø TOM (grimacing): “She didn’t want to kill me. Just let me know she could.”
Ø LAYLA: “Well, that’s not terrifying at all.”
She pulled the thread gently, tied it off, and sat back.
Ø LAYLA: “Done. Try not to get stabbed again in the next hour.”
Ø TOM (half-smiling): “No promises.”
He sat up, wincing. Sweat clung to his brow. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but the implication of the strike lingered deeper than the wound.
Interior – War Room – Moments Later
Manners stood before a dozen screens, drone feeds and open AI processes running in the background. He rubbed his eyes, replayed the footage from Tom’s helmet—Tammy’s voice, her movements, the way she stepped into the smoke.
Ø MANNERS: “She’s a ghost.”
Layla entered, still wearing her gloves.
Ø LAYLA: “Any hits?”
Ø MANNERS (shaking head): “I ran facial recognition, gait analysis, thermal tracking, even lip-sync algorithms. Nothing. No digital footprint. Not even a Reddit thread. That shouldn’t be possible.”
He tapped the screen showing the moment Tammy blew a kiss and vanished.
Ø MANNERS: “The Shadow League… it’s like they’ve edited themselves out of the world.”
Ø LAYLA: “You think they’re military?”
Ø MANNERS: “Worse. Ex-military with no leash. Or better tech than we’ve seen.”
Interior – Tom’s Quarters – Later
Tom sat on the edge of his cot, shirtless, staring at the cleaned Ghostfang blade resting across his lap. The room was dim. Quiet. His reflection in the metal looked older than it should’ve.
Layla knocked once and stepped inside.
Ø LAYLA: “You okay?”
Ø TOM: “She fights like a dream. Like she’s done this a thousand times.”
Ø LAYLA (softly): “She’s not your dream, Tom.”
He looked at her. Something flickered between them—familiarity, exhaustion, unspoken connection.
Ø TOM: “She knew exactly where my weak spot was.”
Ø LAYLA: “Then we patch it. Together.”
She sat next to him, reached for the blade, and turned it in the light.
Ø LAYLA: “You said once you wanted to be hope and fear.”
Ø TOM: “Right now I feel like neither.”
Ø LAYLA (quiet): “Then we build you back. Stronger.”
She leaned her head gently against his shoulder. Tom closed his eyes for just a moment.
Interior – Workshop – That Night
Manners worked late, fingers gliding across the design schematics for the suit. New mesh reinforcement. Upgraded plating. Rerouted comm relays.
But he paused, looked at a separate window: “Project: Layla V2 – Kinetic Suit Uplink.”
Ø MANNERS (to himself): “They want war. We’ll give them one. Just not the one they expect.”
He added a line of code. Then another. His eyes reflected in the screen were sharp. Tired. But ready.
Chapter 12: Hardships
Part 4 – The Quiet Weight
(It’s not always the storm that breaks you. Sometimes it’s the stillness that lets the weight settle in.)
Interior – Underground Bunker – Kitchen Space – Morning
A small pot of black coffee bubbled on a heating coil. The bunker was still, unnaturally quiet after the chaos of the warehouse battle and rooftop swordfight. Sunlight seeped in through the single air vent overhead, streaking lines across the cold concrete floor.
Tom sat at the metal table, shirt wrinkled, thigh still bandaged. His fingers tapped absently on the tabletop.
Across from him, Layla poured two mugs—one for herself, one for him. She slid his forward.
Ø LAYLA: “You didn’t sleep.”
Ø TOM (flat): “Didn’t try.”
He took a sip. The silence stretched between them, not awkward—familiar.
Ø LAYLA: “Still thinking about her?”
Ø TOM: “Tammy? Yeah.”
She looked up, face unreadable. Tom held her gaze for a moment, then looked down at his mug.
Ø TOM: “She fights like no one I’ve seen. The way she moves… it’s like every step is choreographed in advance. And she knew everything—my timing, my reach, even my hesitation.”
Ø LAYLA (guarded): “That’s not admiration. That’s obsession.”
Ø TOM (quiet): “Maybe.”
He leaned back, ran a hand through his hair.
Ø TOM: “But it’s more than her. The Shadow League… they don’t kill unless they want to. They strike, disappear. And no one knows a thing about them.”
Ø LAYLA: “You think they’re vigilantes?”
Ø TOM: “I think they’re something worse. Something better. I don’t know. I just—need to understand them.”
Layla didn’t respond at first. She simply nodded, eyes thoughtful.
Ø LAYLA: “You want to understand Tammy too.”
Ø TOM: “I want to know why she let me live.”
Interior – Workshop – Later That Day
Manners was hunched over a monitor, half-listening to Tom’s earlier sparring footage while running voice recognition subroutines through custom decryption.
Layla walked in, a fresh coffee in hand.
Ø LAYLA (lightly): “Still working?”
Ø MANNERS (smiling tiredly): “You know me.”
Ø LAYLA: “I do.”
She leaned over his shoulder, scanning the code.
Ø MANNERS: “I’m working on a feedback loop algorithm for the suits. If we can track biometric data in real-time, we can predict stress points before injuries happen.”
Ø LAYLA: “That sounds... very you.”
He glanced up at her. Her lips twitched.
Ø LAYLA (teasing): “What?”
Ø MANNERS (soft): “Just—nice seeing you smile.”
Ø LAYLA (smiling wider): “Maybe you’re finally rubbing off on me.”
Their eyes lingered, a quiet warmth shared. The chaos outside the bunker couldn’t touch this moment.
Interior – Tom’s Quarters – Nightfall
Tom sat on his cot again, but this time he wasn’t brooding. He was writing.
A page torn from a notebook, filled with brief lines, phrases, sketches of the Shadow League symbol. He drew a figure—a woman with a katana.
Tammy’s silhouette.
He stared at it, then added a note beside it:
Ø “Didn’t kill me. Could have. Why?”
He crossed it out. Wrote again.
Ø “She wanted me to follow.”
Then below that:
Ø “But where?”
He stood, pulled on his hoodie, and walked quietly toward the exit.
Exterior – Rooftop Outside Bunker – Night
Tom leaned against the railing, city lights glittering in the distance. Layla joined him, her steps soft.
Ø LAYLA: “Still chasing ghosts?”
Ø TOM: “Yeah. But maybe ghosts are the only ones who know what this city really needs.”
Ø LAYLA: “You think Tammy believes in what she’s doing?”
Ø TOM (quietly): “I think she’s lost. Like me.”
A pause.
Ø LAYLA (softer): “You’re not lost, Tom.”
Ø TOM: “Aren’t I?”
She moved closer, shoulder brushing his. The city’s skyline shimmered in silence.
Ø LAYLA: “If you were, we wouldn’t be following you.”
Chapter 12: Hardships
Part 5 – Every Scar Speaks
(Healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means learning to live with the ghosts.)
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Interior – Bunker Gym – Afternoon
Tom stood shirtless beneath a flickering overhead light, scarred back glistening with sweat. He grunted through every rep—pullups, bodyweight dips, heavy bag strikes. Each motion was deliberate. Controlled.
The gym was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of rope slaps as Layla jumped rope nearby, her suit unarmed, body in rhythm. Her breath steady. Her focus unshaken.
Tom dropped to his knees, breath ragged. Layla stopped the rope.
> LAYLA (offering a hand): “You can’t train through confusion, you know.”
> TOM (accepting it): “I’m not confused.”
> LAYLA (smirking): “You’re distracted. You’re obsessed with a woman who almost killed you.”
> TOM (panting): “She didn’t. That’s what haunts me.”
> LAYLA: “What haunts you is the fact that she made you feel something.”
They stared at each other for a beat too long.
> TOM: “She’s not the only one who does.”
Layla blinked, caught off guard—but didn’t retreat.
> LAYLA (soft): “I know.”
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Interior – Manners’ Workshop – Evening
Manners adjusted the compression in Layla’s gauntlets, checking her pulse sync and power reserves.
> MANNERS: “So… you and Tom are close.”
> LAYLA (not looking up): “We fight together. Bleed together. That builds something.”
> MANNERS (quiet): “I get that.”
He hesitated. She glanced at him.
> LAYLA: “Say what you’re thinking.”
> MANNERS: “I just… wish I didn’t have to be the guy behind the screen. Watching you risk your life while I sit and code.”
> LAYLA (smiling): “You're not just the guy behind the screen. You’re the reason we’re alive.”
> MANNERS: “Still doesn’t feel like enough.”
Layla leaned in and gently touched his cheek.
> LAYLA (soft): “It is.”
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