Page 9 of Rescued by the Alien Hit Man (Villains Do It Better)

CHAPTER 9

CIKARIUS

L eaning against cold metal, I watched Mia from the doorway, the flicker of holographic displays casting an ethereal light on her concentrated face. Mia’s fingers danced over the keyboard with a grace that belied their speed, her green eyes reflecting the determined spirit that had drawn me to her—that and something else, a tenderness I hadn’t known I was capable of feeling.

The room hummed with the dormant technology of the abandoned facility, now buzzing back to life under her command. The scent of ionized air mingled with the mustiness of disuse, creating a unique fragrance marking this moment—her brilliance awakening the slumbering beast of machinery.

“Damn it,” she said, her voice barely audible over the whir of reactivated systems. “Not enough processing power.”

She stood, surveying the banks of ancient computers, her ponytail swaying as she scanned for a solution. I admired her tenacity, the meticulous way she approached each obstacle, so different from my own brute-force tactics. I stepped into the room, feeling the weight of my past actions, the ease with which I had taken lives. It was a stark contrast to the life I now vowed to protect.

“Let me try the mainframe,” I said, moving towards the bulky computer terminals lining the opposite wall. I didn’t understand the pull I felt towards her, this human woman whose life had become intertwined with mine in a dance of fate and survival.

Mia nodded, acceptance mingling with a flicker of approval in her green eyes. I reached the terminal, my fingers more accustomed to triggers than keyboards, but I adapted. Adaptation was survival, after all.

With a few expert commands, Mia awakened the dormant system, its screens flickering to life like bioluminescent leaves in Dufair’s twilight. Together, we dove into the labyrinth of data, searching for the threads that would unravel Ivor’s schemes.

“Here,” Mia said, pointing at a complex diagram that sprawled across the screen like a digital spiderweb. “Look at these transactions.”

“Shell companies.” My voice was flat, a stark contrast to the crackle of energy that surged through the room as we pieced together the puzzle of betrayal and deceit.

“Exactly. Ivor’s been funneling funds for years, but what for?” Her question hung in the air, laced with the scent of ozone.

We worked in tandem, our movements synchronized in a silent dance of discovery. Every so often, Mia’s hand brushed against mine, sending jolts of electricity through my body, igniting something within that no amount of genetic engineering could have predicted.

“Got something,” I finally announced, a cluster of encrypted files yielding to Mia’s relentless pursuit. “This could be the proof we need.”

“Good,” Mia said. “We’re close.”

But the deeper we dug, the more the danger loomed, a shadow stretching across my mind. Protecting Mia wasn’t just a mission anymore; it was a necessity, etched into every fiber of my being.

“Careful,” I said as she navigated through a particularly insidious piece of coding that reeked of a trap. “One wrong move…”

“I know.” Her tone was sharp, but her eyes held trust. A trust I’d earned and one I refused to break.

Our findings painted a damning picture of Ivor’s network, a web of corruption that extended farther than either of us had expected. As the final pieces clicked into place, I realized the gravity of what we were about to undertake. This was more than exposing a criminal—it was tearing down an empire.

“Look at this,” Mia whispered, scrolling through a dense section of data. “This is it, Cikarius. Ivor’s plans, his entire operation—it’s all here.”

“Compelling evidence,” I said, though my mind raced with what came next—the confrontation.

“Can you trace any financial transactions?” I asked, my gaze not leaving the screen.

“Already on it.” She worked the console with a fervor, her fingers coaxing secrets from the depths of the network.

“Got something,” she announced triumphantly.

“Good.” I felt a surge of pride. “Let’s see what Ivor has been hiding.”

We delved deeper, uncovering layer upon layer of deception, each revelation adding to the mosaic of corruption. It was a dangerous game we played, balancing on the edge of a knife.

A flicker of green and blue illuminated Mia’s face, casting it in an eerie glow as her fingers danced over the keyboard. She hunted through the labyrinth of data with a predator’s precision, and I stood sentry, watching her back. Every piece of information she found led her to something else.

“Here.” Mia’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp with urgency. She pointed to a cluster of data. “Coordinates for Ivor’s base on Dufair.”

I leaned in closer, eyes scanning the information. No doubt it was heavily guarded. “As a Sionagog Syndicate client, Ivor will have mercenary guards until the hit is completed.”

Her frown cut through the dim light. “I hate being called the hit.”

“Apologies,” I said. The old ways clung to me like shadows. “It will take time to unthink and unlearn all the terminology the Sionagog Syndicate put in me.”

“It’s okay.” She turned her attention back to the computer.

But it wasn’t okay. If I wanted Mia to trust me, stay with me, I had to reprogram myself. Start thinking for myself and not how they wanted me to think or act. First, I needed to confront Ivor.

“We need to be careful when we approach the base,” I said.

“Why can’t we just find a shuttle and go back to the station? Let the authorities take care of Ivor,” she said, hopeful but na?ve.

Her na?veté about the situation tugged a smile onto my lips, despite the gravity of our conversation. “Ivor will never stop coming for you. And the Sionagog Syndicate prides itself on always getting the job done.” My hand found hers, an instinctive gesture. “I need Ivor to cancel the hit on you.”

Doubt flickered across her face, her green eyes clouded with worry. But there was determination there too; she wasn’t one to flee from a challenge. We locked eyes, the air between us charged with an understanding deeper than words. With every shared glance and touch, the bond between us grew tangled up in survival and something much more dangerous.

“Then let’s make sure he gets the message,” she said. “What’s our next move?”

“Preparation,” I said, my mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. We need supplies, information, an edge.

She eyed the computer screen where Ivor’s base location blinked ominously. “He won’t just let us walk in and convince him to back off. You know that, right?”

“Persuasion comes in many forms.” My voice was a low hum, barely concealing the undercurrent of danger. I had ways of making men like Ivor bend to my will.

“I don’t want to spend my life looking over my shoulder, Cikarius.”

Her gaze locked onto mine, a silent plea echoing in those green depths. Infiltrating Ivor’s lair wouldn’t be easy; we’d need to consider every variable, prepare for the guards, the traps, any unforeseen dangers lurking within. Together, we plotted with purpose, driven by survival and the hope for freedom from this relentless hunt.

“I promise you won’t have to.”

“How are you going to get to him?” Her eyes met mine, searching for a plan.

“I’ll think of something.” The corners of my mouth twitched upward, a semblance of a smile. We hunched over the facility’s computer, her fingers a blur across the keyboard as we mapped out our approach, considering every variable, every shadow that might hide a threat.

“Done,” she said, leaning back, her ponytail brushing against the high collar of her jacket.

I shifted in my seat, turning my attention to the computer. Every computer on Dufair, Alfataken Station, and Talamhmar belonged to the same network. When the research potential of the moon was discovered, governments and scientists wanted a way to easily exchange data. But everyone used the network now, from businesses to civilians wanting to keep in touch. Its archaic interface was sluggish, the cursor blinking lazily on the screen, but it wouldn’t betray us to prying digital eyes. I navigated through layers of code, finding the hidden pathway I’d left dormant within the Sionagog Syndicate’s network—a backdoor known only to me.

“Access granted,” the screen announced silently, and I dove into the abyss of encrypted files. Every keystroke was deliberate. My muscles tense with anticipation. I activated a failsafe program I’d created years ago—a just-in-case measure—and began downloading the Sionagog Syndicate’s client list.

“What are you doing?” Mia’s voice, tinged with curiosity, broke the silence.

“Insurance.” The single word hung between us, weighted with unspoken promises of safety and retaliation.

“Against?”

“Uncertainty.” I looked at her, and in that moment, shared more than just a look; I shared an understanding of the perilous tightrope we walked.

The information streamed into a secure digital box, its virtual locks snapping shut. I sent the box spiraling into the ether of cyberspace, where it would orbit unseen until needed.

“Ready?” Mia asked, her gaze now steady, resolve hardening like armor.

“Always,” I said, feeling the pull of destiny, of fated moments yet to unfold.

As we rose from our makeshift command center, the hum of the jungle outside whispered secrets of what lay ahead. The air was charged with potential, with the promise of confrontation and the sweet tang of hope against overwhelming odds.

“Let’s gather what we need,” I said, scanning the dimly lit room. Mia nodded, her slender fingers deftly packing her computer and the precious flora samples into the rugged backpack. She moved with precision, every item purposefully selected for utility and necessity.

I turned my attention to the scavenging task at hand, picking through mechanical remnants, selecting parts that could be traded for passage off this forsaken moon.

We stepped out into the jungle’s embrace, its bioluminescent foliage casting an otherworldly glow on our path. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of exotic flowers and damp soil, a stark contrast to the sterile corridors of Alfataken Station. I led the way, every sense heightened to detect the slightest anomaly in the symphony of wild sounds around us.

Mia followed close behind, her green eyes scanning our surroundings. “The terrain seems to be changing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Adaptability is key.” I replied, noting the subtle shift in the underbrush, the way the ferns gave way to a denser thicket.

A sudden rustling to our right had us both freezing in place. I reached back, feeling Mia’s steady presence just inches from mine. Her breath was calm, measured, betraying none of the adrenaline that surely coursed through her veins.

We waited, and a creature—a Dufairian shadow-slink—emerged, its iridescent scales reflecting the faint luminescence of the jungle. It eyed us warily before slithering away into the darkness, a silent testament to the dangers lurking within the luminescent wilds.

“Close one,” Mia said, her voice tinged with the thrill of survival.

“Part of the journey,” I responded, moving forward once more.

Our progress was slow, deliberate. We navigated through thickets of glowing vines and over roots as large as conduits, every step a dance with nature’s unpredictability. Our combined knowledge of the land and my instincts as a former hit man kept us one step ahead of the myriad threats concealed by the jungle’s beauty.

“Look out!” Mia’s alert came just in time for me to parry a branch, whipping towards us as if alive. My reflexes, honed from countless missions, responded instantly, and I deflected the danger away from us.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes meeting mine. In them, I saw not only gratitude but a burgeoning trust that went beyond the simple instinct to survive.

“Always,” I replied, the word now taking on a new meaning—one of protection, of an unspoken vow.

The jungle seemed endless, but we pressed on, determined to reach Ivor’s base before nightfall. Each challenge we faced, each obstacle we overcame, bound us closer together. With every step, I felt the weight of my past actions lifting, replaced by the burgeoning weight of responsibility for Mia’s safety.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of fiery orange and pink, we found ourselves at the edge of a clearing. The base lay ahead, shrouded in the twilight shadows, promising both danger and answers.

“Almost there,” Mia said, her hand brushing against mine—a fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt of electricity through my body.

“Stay close,” I instructed, my voice low. “It’s far from over.”

We crouched at the edge of the clearing, surveying Ivor’s base. Its angular shapes loomed against the darkening sky, an unnatural blight amidst the organic curves of Dufair’s wilderness. My eyes scanned for movement, for the telltale signs of guards or surveillance tech. Nothing stirred, but that didn’t mean we were alone.

“Motion sensors, likely camouflaged,” Mia said, pointing to a spot where the air shimmered ever so slightly.

“Right.” I nodded. “Follow my lead.”

We skirted the perimeter, every sense alert. The tang of metal and lubricant hung faintly in the air, betraying the presence of hidden machines. I caught the occasional soft hum of idling electronics, waiting to spring to life.

“There,” I said, spotting a dense patch of ferns glowing softly under the moon’s caress. A hidden entrance, just as the schematics had promised.

We slipped through the vegetation, the leaves brushing against us with velvet caresses. Inside, dim light bathed the corridor, sterile and cold. We moved in silence, communicating with glances and gestures honed by our shared trials.

Mia pulled out her computer, fingers dancing across the surface with practiced ease. She summoned the layout we’d stored in its memory, a holographic blueprint that hovered between us. I memorized the turns and intersections, plotting our course through the labyrinth.

“Ready?” she asked, the green of her eyes reflecting the hologram’s glow.

“Always,” I echoed our earlier exchange.

We navigated the corridors, blending into the shadows, our footsteps whispers on the floor, our breathing controlled. Each turn took us deeper into the heart of Ivor’s lair, closer to the evidence we needed to end this hunt.

The tension wound tight within me, a spring coiled and ready to release. But alongside it, there was something else—something warmer, softer. It was the brush of Mia’s hand against mine as we moved together, synchronized and attuned to each other’s presence.

Then, as we rounded a corner, we froze. Ahead of us, a guard stood watch, his back turned to us. His stance spoke of complacency, unaware of the predators that now stalked him.

I looked at Mia, a silent question in my eyes. She nodded, understanding the unspoken plan. With careful precision, we advanced, ready to incapacitate, to move undetected.

But as we edged closer, the guard shifted, and the subtle clink of his armor sent a shiver down my spine. The moment teetered on the brink of disaster.

“Look out!” Mia said under her breath, pointing beyond the guard to a door flanked by two more sentries. That marked our target—the room was heavy with secrets we needed to uncover.

“Diversion,” I mouthed back, and she nodded once, sharply.

I retreated, circling back to a junction where pipes climbed the walls like metal vines. My fingers found the valve we had passed earlier, and with a twist, I wrenched it open. A scream of pressurized steam erupted, a cloud billowing into the corridor, obscuring vision, muddling senses.

“Alert! Breach in sector seven!” I yelled, mimicking the grunt of the guards. It was crude, but effective.

The guards snapped to attention, radios crackling with confusion as they converged on the source of the chaos. I slipped through the dissipating mist, a phantom in their midst.

Mia seized the opportunity, darting to the now unguarded door, her movements a dance of urgency and grace. She interfaced with the panel, fingers flying over the controls, her concentration absolute.

“Almost there,” she said, the door’s lock cycling with an audible click.

We slipped inside the room beyond a vault of data waiting to be plundered. And as we began our work, I couldn’t help but marvel at the woman beside me—her intellect as formidable as any weapon I’d ever wielded.

“Got it,” she whispered triumphantly, her screen alive with incriminating evidence.

“Let’s not celebrate yet,” I said, glancing at the door, aware that each passing second increased our risk of discovery.

“Right,” she said, a flicker of determination steeling her features. “Then let’s make this quick.”

The glow of the console painted her in strokes of light and shadow, casting her in an otherworldly aura. Her focus was a tangible force, and I stood sentinel, watching over her as she worked to extract the data that could seal Ivor’s fate—and perhaps ensure our survival.

As she downloaded the last file, a sound from the hallway caught my attention. Footsteps—returning. A surge of adrenaline hit me, and I moved without thought, positioning myself between Mia and the impending threat.

“Time to go,” I said, the primal need to protect her eclipsing all else.

“Done,” she said, unplugging her device with haste.

We exited just as the first guard rounded the corner, his shout of alarm slicing through the air. But we were already ghosts, slipping away into the maze of corridors, the data our lifeline, the thrill of escape lending wings to our feet.