The days of late winter had always slipped by too quickly. It felt as though only yesterday the Al'Xander House had been alive with lights, laughter, and the most awaited celebration of the year. Yet reality insisted otherwise. It was already mid-February. Time, it seemed, had grown impatient with Dylan.
Between his studies and the growing responsibilities placed upon him, the days blurred together. Lately, he had also joined the office of the Lawmaker for hands-on experience; a decision that had quietly reshaped his routine. Sleep had become optional. Meals were rushed, often forgotten. Personal moments were postponed with the careless promise of soon.
And Lena;She, too, had been pushed into the margins of his days.
15th February, Stellar Year 2924
NUC, Capaldi
Today was perhaps the busiest day of the week.
Dylan had been moving since dawn, carried forward by deadlines and obligations that left no space to pause. He hadn't checked on Lena. He hadn't even stopped for lunch.
The first half of the day was spent in the research wing, where he demonstrated a live practical; a complex experiment involving the extraction of genetic material from one cell and its successful implantation into another.
The auditorium was tense with concentration as he worked, hands steady, voice calm. When the results finally appeared on the screen, confirming success, a low ripple of murmurs filled the room.
He had done it. But the day showed no mercy.
By afternoon, Dylan was already crossing the campus toward the Law Department. A seminar had been organized, drawing students and faculty alike, and he was scheduled to participate in a debate on Law Enforcement in War Grounds. It was a topic that demanded both intellect and restraint; something Dylan had mastered over time.
By the time the debate began, the auditorium was packed. The presence of two high achievers from the law school had drawn an impressive crowd. The air hummed with anticipation.
Dylan delivered his arguments with precision, voice unwavering as he laid out his stance. When he reached his final card, concluding his argument, his gaze drifted, just for a fraction of a second; toward the middle row.
Lena.
Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, he recognized her instantly. The world could be overflowing with people, yet she remained unmistakable to him. The familiarity hit him like a quiet shock.
He hid his smile before it could betray him and continued speaking, finishing strong as the room erupted into applause.
Right after the debate, as participants gathered backstage awaiting the results, Dylan's phone rang.
One glance at the screen was enough.
He answered, murmured a brief response, and left the venue without another word.
AtHeadquarters
The headquarters were in chaos when Dylan arrived. Vehicles crowded the entrance, soldiers moved with sharp urgency, and the air buzzed with unease. He drove at full speed, the city lights blurring past him, until the massive structure of the HQ loomed ahead.
A soldier escorted him swiftly to the meeting room. When Dylan entered, every head turned. They had been waiting for him.
He took his seat beside Gibbs without ceremony, barely catching his breath as the Armed Forces meeting commenced. Slides flickered across the screen,maps, reports, coded intelligence. With each passing frame, the color drained from his face.
By the end of the briefing, one thing was clear.
The danger Gibbs had once warned him about; passed quietly through Lena;had not been paranoia or doubt. It had been a warning. A real one.
Even the boys' meeting in Ralph's office, before his departure to Leal, now felt like an omen. Pieces that once seemed unrelated were aligning too neatly.
Dylan was lost in thought when Gibbs Eleanor elbowed him sharply, pulling him back into the room.
"…and all the leads point toward this mysterious organization called Black Hawk," the soldier presenting said, stepping back. The name hit Dylan like thunder.
For a moment, it felt as though the room dissolved around him. In his mind, thunder roared, lightning struck too close, and the ground beneath his feet gave way. He was falling; sinking deeper into an abyss he had hoped never to revisit.
He had heard that name before.
The stalker, the one captured by the personal guards of the Crown Prince. Before his death, those two words had been all he spoke. Over and over again. The only sound to escape his mouth throughout his captivity.
Black Hawk.
"Who are they?" Dylan asked, straightening in his chair.
"A group of orthodox people," a soldier replied cautiously.
"They are believed to be connected to recent drug activity in the southern districts of Capaldi."
The answer settled poorly.
Dylan shifted, discomfort rippling through him.
"I asked who they are," he repeated.
Something changed.
The core's power shifted within him; subtle, but unmistakable. The temperature in the room dropped. Conversations stilled. Every pair of eyes turned toward him.
"An organization of unknown origin," came another voice from the far end of the table. "They deal mostly in drugs and killing bounties. They call themselves the Black Hawk of the underworld."
Dylan turned.
Damian Marley.(The government officer responsible for investigations regarding the the attack on him. Owner of Sparkle.) Sitting there as though he belonged.
The Commander at the head of the table observed the exchange silently.
"What is he doing here, at HQ?" a voice muttered, sharp and irritated, as though Damian had disturbed a peaceful sleep.
"I'm surprised too," Dylan replied evenly.
"They usually operate underground, far from inhabited regions," Damian continued.
"But something changed. Their focus shifted toward the cities."
"It seems the government authorities have had tabs on them," Dylan said, rising from his seat, "and quite a bit of information too."
He took the remote.
"The laws of this land do not allow negligence toward organizations like this," Dylan stated flatly, turning off the screen where Black Hawk glared repeatedly.
"How could authorities ignore this until the Armed Forces demanded a joint mission?" he asked, handing the remote back to Damian.
Damian accepted it, jaw tight, but before he could respond, the meeting room doors opened.
"You cannot criticize authorities," Lord Macaulay said as he entered.
"We are all waiting for a successful mission," Dylan replied calmly, returning to his seat.
Gibbs watched him with something close to concern,like a man watching someone play with fire.
As Dylan sat down, his phone vibrated.
When will you come home?
—Lena
He stared at the screen for a moment before typing back.
[soon]
The phone powered off immediately.
He hadn't charged it.
Dylan slipped it into his pocket and turned his attention back to the meeting as the room rose to its feet. The arrival of the Royal Representative; the Crown Prince and Dylan's father, the Lawmaker of the land, marked the beginning of the main agenda.
National Security.
16th February, Stellar Year 2926
1:00 a.m., Capaldi
The conference stretched deep into the night.
When it finally ended, exhaustion clung to Dylan's bones. Before leaving headquarters, he informed his father about the encounter with Lord Macaulay.
The Lawmaker smiled knowingly and patted his shoulder.
"Well, Dylan," he said, "you did a good job. Just a little late."
Gibbs laughed. Dylan did too, softly.
He walked his father to the underground parking before heading to his car.
"I'm heading out, Dad," he said, and drove away.
Capaldi at night was eerily calm. Streets lay empty, homes darkened as people slept beside their families or surrendered to rest before another demanding day.
Dylan's car sped down the highway.
"Dylan, when are you coming home?" Lena's voice filled the car as he finally turned on his phone after finding the charger.
He exhaled slowly.
"I should have told her about the conference," he whispered.
He parked outside her favorite café. The workers were preparing to close when he stepped inside. By sheer luck, the last item was black frost cake remained, the one she loved most.
He asked about its production date before placing the order, satisfied only when assured of its freshness.
No wonder Lena loved this place, he thought, smiling faintly.
Her habit of cleanliness.
Her quiet consistency.
And the way she waited, always believing he would come back soon.