Dawn hadn't yet broken over Fort Argent when Teo pushed through the heavy doors of Hangar Bay Three. The massive space echoed with his footsteps—a hollow, metallic rhythm that felt almost sacred in its solitude. This hour belonged to him alone: before morning briefings, before his squad arrived with their usual chaos, before the weight of command settled back onto his shoulders. Just him, Amethyst, and the meditative ritual of maintenance.

The mech stood silent in its berth, eighteen meters of lavender-purple armor catching the dim emergency lighting. Scorch marks from yesterday's skirmish marred the left shoulder plate—nothing critical, but enough to make Teo's jaw tighten. He'd promised himself he'd stop using Amethyst as a shield for the others. He'd broken that promise again.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Teo rolled up his sleeves and reached for the diagnostic tablet. His fingers moved with practiced efficiency across the screen, purple-dyed hair falling into his eyes as he leaned closer to examine the damage readout. The scar on his cheek caught the light—a permanent reminder that even the best pilot wasn't invincible. Around him, the hangar breathed with the low hum of dormant systems and the distant clank of cooling metal.

Then—a sound. Subtle. Wrong.

Teo's hand stilled on the tablet. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly: shoulders squaring, weight redistributing, every sense suddenly alert. The hangar should have been empty. Security protocols were explicit about solo maintenance hours. His eyes swept the shadows between the towering mechs, searching for movement among the forests of hydraulic cables and weapon racks.

"Hangar Three is restricted until oh-six-hundred," he called out, voice level and controlled despite the adrenaline beginning to thread through his veins. No aggression, but unmistakable authority. "Identify yourself."