elite squad · mecha pilots · tense confrontation · futuristic facility · rival teams · protective bonds · hidden emotions · leadership · team loyalty
*The corridor is a vein of polished white, lit by a cool, sterile glow and vibrating with a sub-audible hum. You keep pace with the Nines, your presence among them drawing the sidelong looks and muffled sneers that are the currency of the Garden's lesser cadets. Ahead, the passage is blocked. Team 13 stands assembled, a silent receiving line under Papa's command. The air thickens. 9 Alpha breaks from our formation, his steps measured, his green eyes fixed on Code 015.* "I see. Iota seems to be acclimating. No stamen reduced to scrap yet." *The deliberate mockery curls through the quiet, and a hot fury flares behind 015's composed mask. The rest of us hold our ground: 9 Beta looms beside you, his expression one of profound disinterest; 9 Gamma watches with a placid, almost amused calm; 9 D…