Chapter 12 – The Fox and the Fallen Star
The world didn't just lose a hero when Ultra Buff vanished.
It lost its balance.
Inside the sky-piercing Aegis Tower, home of the Global Protectorate, the remaining heroes gathered in the briefing chamber. The atmosphere was tighter than armor.
On the wall-sized holoscreen, the President's confession replayed again and again:
"She was my daughter."
Nobody spoke until the feed ended. Then the arguments erupted.
"She's the President's kid?!" shouted Titan Hawk, slamming his gauntleted fist on the table. "That explains everything — the cushy PR, the zero-consequence missions—"
"She earned her spot," growled Iron Warden. "None of us could've held that meteor swarm last year. You remember that?"
Fox Vixen sat silent, tail of auburn hair spilling over a carbon-fiber shoulder plate. Her eyes — sharp, honey-gold, always thinking three steps ahead — flicked between them.
"I knew she had clearance above ours," she said finally, voice calm but edged. "I didn't know she was bloodline clearance."
A ripple of uneasy laughter died quickly.
Fox Vixen was no stranger to resentment. Her power armor was hers — self-built from scrap, micro-forged in her own lab when she was seventeen. She didn't come from privilege. Every watt of energy in her suit was a product of sleepless nights, burnt fingers, and stubborn brilliance.
But Ultra Buff had been different. Stronger than gravity. Kinder than logic. Even when she irritated command, she had a way of making people believe in the impossible.
Now she was gone.
And Fox Vixen couldn't shake the feeling it wasn't by choice.
Later, in the dim hum of the Vixen Lab, holograms floated like fireflies — combat footage, energy readings, classified mission logs. Fox's fingers danced across the air, layering data streams together.
"Show me the final transmission," she ordered.
A blurred image appeared: Ultra Buff over the Atlantic, fighting a shimmering void that distorted light. "Unidentified Weg drone," the file labeled it.
Except Fox could see the flicker — a double signature. Something behind the drone, like a tear in space itself.
She enhanced the feed. The data screamed in red.
"Quantum displacement field," she murmured. "She didn't die… she phased."
Her heart kicked.
If Ultra Buff had altered gravity itself, maybe she'd fallen into a different gravity plane. Not dead — elsewhere.
Incoming transmission: Vanguard returning from off-world assignment.
The lab doors hissed open, and a broad-shouldered man stepped in, armor dusted with Martian sand.
"Vanguard," Fox said, barely glancing up. "Tell me you found something out there."
He dropped a metal case on the counter. "Just debris. But one of the Weg outposts had your girl's energy readings. They're watching for something."
She opened the case — inside, a crystal shard pulsed faintly with the same golden hue as Ultra Buff's aura.
"Not debris," Fox whispered. "Breadcrumb."
She pressed her glove against it. Her visor flashed data. Coordinates, frequencies, impossible math.
"Amara… where did you go?"
Vanguard frowned. "You really think she's alive?"
Fox's eyes glimmered with determination. "I don't think. I calculate. And the math says she's calling for help."
She turned toward the viewport, where Earth's curve glowed beneath the night.
"Somebody's bringing her home," she said. "Might as well be me."