The courtroom stinks of dust and protocol. There’s no jury box, no gallery. Just the judge, a pair of security drones, and Aria—sitting stiff as an iron beam, her tablet clenched in both hands like it might keep her from throttling me. I could make this easy. Straight answers, clean timeline, no flair.
But where’s the fun in that?
“Mr. Rexx,” the judge begins, an older Glimnerian male with a thick neck and a gold-stitched robe that screams inherited power. “Do you understand the terms of protective testimony?”
I flash him my best kingpin grin—wide, toothy, touched with just enough menace to make it sparkle. “Your Honor, I understandprotectionjust fine. But lemme say—I ain’t no canary. I’m a businessman with a memory problem.”
Aria exhales sharply through her nose. She’s not even looking at me. Not really. Just stabbing her stylus into that poor screen.
The judge chuckles. Chuckles. “You’re quite the character, Mr. Rexx.”
I lean back in the chair, legs wide, hands folded over my stomach. “Character? Naw. I’m just colorful. Makes the paperwork easier to swallow.”
Aria cuts in, voice clipped. “With respect, Your Honor, we request clarity. Mr. Rexx’s testimony is critical to establishing the Nar’Vosk timeline of aggression?—”
I raise a hand. “Aggression’s such a strong word. Let’s say they borrowed a few liberties. Took their grievances to the street instead of a council vote.”
The judge smirks. Aria does not.
“You witnessed the events at the Cloudveil Terrace,” she presses.
“I lived ‘em, sweetheart.”
She flinches at the word.
I keep going. “The first hitter came in slick—no footfall, breath locked down, skin modded to shimmer like heat off chrome. He thought he was clever. He wasn’t. I broke his spine on the hostess cart. Little metal olives everywhere.”
The judge coughs. Amused, not appalled.
“Mr. Rexx,” Aria grits. “Youcannotnarrate like this. You’re under oath.”
“Iamnarrating. Just with style.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. That’s how I know I’m winning.
I switch tones—just slightly. “Second hitter had a pulse katana. Real nasty type. Nar’Vosk elite. Could’ve shaved atoms with that thing. He got one swing before I put him through a grav-car windshield.”
Silence. Then I glance sideways at Aria, voice low. “You remember that part, sugar? When I caught the wand blast in front of you?”
The judge blinks.
Aria’s voice is razor steel. “That’s not relevant to the?—”
“It’s relevant tome.”
She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t have to. I can smell the way her skin’s gone hot again. Her pulse—there, thumping, rabbit-quick.
“Anything else you’d like to add?” the judge asks, clearly entertained.
I shrug. “They came to kill me. They left in bags. That's the short version.”
“Very succinct.”
Aria stands abruptly. “Your Honor, I’m going to request the remaining sessions be conducted in full tribunal. Mr. Rexx’s demeanor is inappropriate for closed review.”
“Oh, come on,” I purr. “I thought I was beingcharming.”
She storms out without a word.
