Three weeks had slipped by in a blur of late nights and early mornings for Kovacs. His days were a whirlwind of activity between school and the extensive work on the mecha redesigns for Don Johnson. His focus had been razor-sharp, driven by the need to keep pace with his studies, which he not only kept up with but often exceeded. Except for a few who were notably cool toward him, the professors had started to take notice. The irony wasn’t lost on him that while his academic performance soared, his side hustle on Iron Reaper with the Devil's Mantis disappointed him. Despite the countless hours he poured into its design, the in-game economy seemed less impressed, the mech barely making a dent financially or in advancement points.

Back at Johnson’s warehouse, a meeting was underway. Don Johnson leaned back in his chair. His fingers steepled under his chin, eyes narrowed in thought as he listened to his assistant’s report.

“How is he doing?” Johnson asked, his gravelly voice filling the room.

His assistant, Rick, a wiry man, nodded as he shuffled through a stack of papers. “Not bad. He finished the last redesign last week, and I signed off on it. The last of the Fusiliers should be ready next week. In a month, all thirty mecha will be ready for resale.” Rick paused, his expression turning serious. “I have only one concern.”

Johnson raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

Rick hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Slippery Jim came to me with an offer…”

Johnson’s eyes flickered with recognition. “Degriz? Or that other one?”

“The other one,” Rick clarified. “He heard we were selling mecha and had the line on a new formula for armor. Said it could be a game-changer. It's better than anything on the market right now. He wanted to know if we’d be interested in buying it.”

A slow smile spread across Johnson’s face, his interest piqued. “Continue.”

Rick shifted his weight, leaning forward slightly. “Jim claims it’s a proprietary blend—something experimental. He wouldn’t say where he got it, but he hinted it was connected to one of the academies. I did some digging, and it sounds like there’s been some chatter among the academic circles about a new armor formula. Nothing concrete, but enough to make me think there might be something to it.”

Johnson’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You think this could be Kovacs’ work?”

“It’s possible,” Rick replied. “The timing lines up, and we know Kovacs has been working on some advanced stuff. And let’s not forget he’s got a knack for innovation. But more importantly, the formula for the armor he’s using on our mechas is top-notch; I think he’s already using his formula…”

Johnson’s expression darkened. “That could be a problem. We can’t have someone going behind our backs and selling to someone else. Especially not something as valuable as a new armor formula.”

Rick nodded in agreement. “Exactly. We need to keep a close eye on him. Make sure someone’s not getting any ideas. If they are, we need to know about it.”

Johnson tapped his fingers on the desk, deep in thought. “Alright. Keep your ear to the ground. Please find out more about this armor formula, compare it to what we’ve got, and who else might be interested. And keep tabs on Kovacs. I want to know everything he’s up to. If he’s holding out on us, we need to know before he makes a move.”

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Rick gave a curt nod. “Understood, boss. I’ll get on it right away.”

Johnson’s face softened slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. And keep Slippery Jim close. If he knows something, I want him talking to us, not anyone else. At least it's not Degriz. He’s slipperier than a greased porcuswine”

Rick chuckled. “Already ahead of you. He’s got a meeting with me later today. I’ll see what else I can squeeze out of him.”

Johnson nodded, satisfied. “Alright. Let’s see how this plays out. But make no mistake, if Kovacs is up to something, I want to know about it. And if he’s got a new formula… we’ll find out one way or another.”

Rick stood up, straightening his jacket. “I’ll keep you updated, boss.”

As Rick left the room, Johnson leaned back in his chair again, a contemplative look on his face. The boy was talented, no doubt about it. But talent could be a double-edged sword. And if Kovacs was thinking of double-crossing him… well, Johnson knew exactly how to deal with that.

***

Jackie sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her packed duffel bag. The room was a mess—drawers half-open, clothes scattered everywhere, and old simulator manuals piled up on the floor. The reality of what she was about to do was sinking in. In just a few days, she’d be leaving for the academy, a place she had convinced herself was where she needed to be.

Her father, John Stewart, stood in the doorway, his face worried. He was hardworking, with calloused hands and a face worn by years of labor. He wasn’t a military man or a politician, just a mechanic who had worked his way up and raised his daughter with a strong sense of duty. Standing beside him, her mother was quiet, her eyes filled with concern.

“You don’t have to do this, Jackie,” John said, his voice thick with emotion. “There are other ways to serve and make a difference.”

Jackie looked up, her expression resolute. “Dad, I want to do this. I feel like… I feel like it’s my duty, you know? Like, I have a chance to do something real: help people. And I think I could be good at it. Good enough to save lives.”

Her mother, who had been silently watching, spoke up. “But why this way? Why go to the academy? It’s dangerous, and you’ll be away from home, from us. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Jackie sighed, her frustration showing. “It’s not about proving anything, Mom. It’s about doing what feels right. I’ve seen what pilots can do, how to protect and save people. If there’s even a chance I could be good at it, don’t I owe it to myself to try?”

John stepped into the room, his shoulders sagging with a weight that seemed to age him. “Jackie, I know you’ve got a good heart. You want to do what’s right. But the academy… it’s not a game. They’ll push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed. And there’s no guarantee you’ll make it through.”

Jackie nodded, understanding his concern but feeling a surge of determination. “I know it’s not going to be easy, Dad. But I’m willing to give it everything I’ve got. I want to help people, to save them. I want to make a difference, and I think I can do that as a pilot.”

Her mother moved closer, reaching out to take her hand. “We just want you to be safe, Jackie. You’ve always been so strong, but this… this is different.”

Jackie squeezed her mother’s hand, trying to reassure her. “I’ll be careful, Mom. I promise. But I can’t stay here and do nothing, not when I could make a difference. This feels like the right path for me.”

John’s face softened, a hint of pride mixing with his concern. “If you truly want this, we’ll stand by you. Just remember, you’re our daughter. We love you more than anything. If you ever need us, we’ll be here.”

Jackie nodded, a small smile breaking through her serious demeanor. “I know, Dad. And I love you both. But I need to do this. For myself, for others. It’s my choice, my duty.”

Her mother pulled her into a tight hug, her voice trembling. “Just promise you’ll stay safe, okay? Promise us that.”

Jackie hugged her back, feeling the weight of their worry and the strength of her resolve. “I promise, Mom. I’ll stay safe. And I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

John stepped forward, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. “You already have, Jackie. More than you know.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. She was ready. She was ready to face whatever came next, ready to serve her duty as a citizen, and ready to prove to herself that she could be a great pilot. And, most importantly, ready to save lives.