Ryan walked through the cold streets of Madrid, a sovereign state in the heart of Spain, watching the crowd go about their daily lives.
Some of the city's historic buildings had been partially renovated, steel beams propping up crumbling structures, while other blocks still lay melted and burned from the war.
The Izigans had done well to redesign the city. The streets were wider, construction towers stood tall in the distance. It felt like a strange mix of Madrid from the 1960s and early 2000s but with scars of war stitched into every corner.
The year was 2120. The world was still healing from the forty-five–year war that had birthed a new race: the Izigans.
Ryan didn't care for the scenery. He didn't even glance at it. His head stayed straight, his focus locked. He wasn't here to admire the city. He was here for the mission.
Being Izigan didn't make him look less human, except for the black tattoos that ran across his body. He kept his collar high to hide the ones on his neck. One hand was in his pocket, the other swung loose at his side, his walk casual but deliberate.
His destination: the famous Bank of Spain, a hub where merchants bought stock and borrowed money to keep businesses afloat. The economy was fragile, still trying to find balance after the war. No one there had any idea what was about to happen.
But Ryan knew.
His presence didn't go unnoticed. A few heads turned, especially women, taking a second look as he passed. He had thought dressing plainly would help him blend in. Clearly, he had miscalculated.
Then came the thought that made his blood run hot:
The Peacemakers.
A name that didn't fit the cruelty behind it. Just hearing it made Ryan's skin crawl. He remembered all too vividly the night they'd slaughtered his family. The memory flashed in his mind, dragging him back to that moment but he shook it off, giving his head a sharp shake. His brows furrowed. His pace quickened.
"Today, I'll play with them for a bit," he muttered.
His mission wasn't authorized, but he didn't care. He had already decided how it would end.
"Ryan, what the hell are you doing? Changing your appearance? That has to be the dumbest thing if you're trying to fool me."
Of course. The one voice he didn't want to hear.
Stella.
Her voice came through his mic link in his ear.
"Shit."
His jaw tightened, his face shifting from sharp focus to visible annoyance. He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose.
Meanwhile, in Galaxia
Stella's tone was sharp and angry, though her face stayed calm. Beside her, Terry raised an eyebrow.
He had been the one to tell her about Ryan. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn't have started with that question.
Is she angry because he went against protocol? Or is she… actually worried about him?
Terry folded his arms, watching her carefully.
The room around them buzzed with light from floating holographic screens, standard tech in Galaxia.
Galaxia itself, a massive artificial planet built with alien technology hovered in Earth's orbit, visible from below on clear nights.
Both Stella and Terry were in the sector unit, the place responsible for storing information and tracking movements. It hadn't taken Terry long to locate Ryan. His mission should have ended days ago. Reporting to Stella had felt like the right move, but now he wasn't so sure.
He didn't want the mission canceled; he just wanted someone to know about it. If Ryan slipped up, Stella could face the council on his behalf.
"Ryan, oh my gosh. What are you wearing?" Stella's voice broke the silence again.
Ryan's long red suit, crisp white shirt, and red tie with a golden clip stood out sharply against the black tailored trousers. The outfit emphasized his tall frame and broad shoulders. It was a bold look far from the body-tight black uniform most Izigans wore on missions, the same one Stella wore now.
"I want to blend in," Ryan answered flatly. "I'm on Earth, not Planet Zora. Anyway, you caught me. But I'm already here. No backing down. It's the Peacemakers."
Stella's stomach tightened at the name. Ryan had never hesitated when it came to them, and she knew it.
"The Peacemakers? Ryan, why didn't you report this to the sector unit? You can't solo something like this," she said, her voice blending authority with concern. "And how did you even get this intel?"
"I have my ways," Ryan's voice came low and raspy, air slipping through each word.
What Stella and Terry didn't know was that Ryan had been tailing a suspected Peacemaker for days. Once he confirmed the man's identity, he had squeezed the truth out of him. Torture wasn't just a tool for Ryan. It was part of his fun.
Back in Galaxia, Stella hesitated.
She knew Ryan's strength. If it were just her, she would have approved the mission without question. But Terry was there, watching. Ryan was still below rank, and letting him go alone was against every rule in the book.
Ryan… what do you expect me to do? If I approve this, Terry will know. Can I even trust him not to report it?
She took a slow breath and made her choice.
"I, Stella, authorize this mission under my name. Backup will be initiated if you call for it. Ryan Nice, proceed with the mission."
Ryan's lips curled into a sly grin.
"With pleasure."