Page 19 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

“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.

---