The screams came first.

Kyra barely registered the office anymore. The sterile walls, the sharp scent of coffee and ink, the weight of fluorescent lights above her. All of it faded as that sound dragged her backward through time. The echoes rose like a tide, swallowing her whole.

She could see them again. Faces twisted in terror. Friends, teammates, people who had laughed with her around campfires during downtime. Their bodies broke like porcelain under the crushing weight of that thing. That thing smiling as it tore through them, as if the massacre were art.

And the voices. Oh gods.. the voices were the worst.

"Kyra..."

A rasp. Blood in the throat. Bones broken. She remembered the way they had called to her. Not for help. Just for presence. Just for her to witness it with them.

"Kyra."

Their voices were burned into her bones, carved into the folds of her mind where nothing could ever scrub it clean.

"Kyra!"

A loud voice cut through the memory, sharp as glass.

She snapped back, head lifting sharply as if surfacing from deep water. The office swam back into focus. Sitting across from her was the Operations Director of Central Command, a man in a pressed charcoal suit with a permanent impatience set into the lines of his face. He sighed through his nose, adjusting his cufflinks like someone holding back worse words.

"As I was saying," he continued, leveling his voice, "you're getting assigned a partner. Starting tomorrow."

Kyra's posture didn't change, but something in her expression shifted. A flicker of tension behind the green of her eyes, like a sky darkening before a storm. The word partner carried a weight she wanted nothing to do with.

"This is unnecessary," she said, voice like cold glass. "I don't need anyone at my side. I have proven that."

The Director shrugged and gathered his documents.

"New regulation. You know how it is. Paperwork above my pay grade."

Kyra's fists were curled in her lap, not out of anger, but to stop them from shaking. She hated that it shook her at all.

The Director paused at the doorway, glancing back only once.

"You'll manage. Good luck, Atmosfear."

The door shut with finality, leaving her in the office alone with the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Alone, just like she preferred it. Alone, just like she deserved.

But for the first time in a long time, alone felt heavier.

(The Next Day)

The next day came with thin gray clouds covering the city, sunlight muted and dull as it stretched over the skyline. You had been patrolling for almost an hour already, suited up, feeling the faint irritation creep behind your ribs.

Atmosfear was late.

For someone spoken of like a living legend in the halls of the organization, it felt almost insulting that she was nowhere to be seen. You adjusted your gloves and kept walking.

Then the street beneath your feet trembled. A scream rang out from somewhere ahead, sharp and panicked, followed by the asphalt breaking open like paper. Something massive erupted from below. A grotesque creature dragging itself out of the ground, all claws and muscle and fractured armor.

Other heroes around you were already on the move. You followed instinct, charging forward, ready to meet the threat. You charged up your powers and-

"Move."

The word came cold, close, spoken just behind your shoulder. Something brushed against you like a gust, but solid, deliberate. A figure shot past you, leaping high with gravity-defying ease.

No hesitation, no flourish. Just precision. She lifted her hand, and the air itself seemed to bow in submission. Pressure slammed downward, gravity folding in on itself, and the creature below didn't even have time to cry out. It shattered beneath the crushing force, bones imploding, armor folding like brittle paper. The pavement cracked and cratered beneath the obliteration.

Silence followed, hanging thick as dust settled.

Civilians stared. The other heroes slowed, exchanging glances between themselves with a mix of awe and annoyance.

"She's strong..."

"That was supposed to be ours..!"

"Woah.. She's pretty fine"

"That's Kyra.. She's unbelievable..."

One voice in the crowd caught your attention, clearer than the rest. Kyra. That was it. The name of the partner they had assigned you. As the realization sank in, you looked up to see her already making her way toward you, her expression unreadable, her steps calm and deliberate.

Your eyes stayed on her. The murmurs faded behind the roar of your pulse. You barely noticed how tense your jaw had become.

She landed lightly, boots pressing faint cracks deeper into the ruined concrete, standing like the eye of a storm. And then she turned, walking toward you with that same steady, deliberate pace.

Her expression was unreadable, like polished stone.

"You, right?"

You gave a nod. She didn't react. No handshake. No introductions. Just confirmation, nothing more.

Her eyes barely lingered before she turned to walk past you, the weight of her presence pressing down like the air before rainfall.

"Stay out of my way."

No heat in her voice. Just coldness, wrapped in steel.

As she walked ahead, there was a weight in the way she carried herself. Not pride, not hostility. Just distance. The kind of distance that kept everything around her slightly out of reach. Every step felt deliberate, like she was moving through a world that didn't quite belong to her anymore.

This wasn't partnership.

It was orbit.