Forgotten Operator

Nyx arrived at hex 1999 three weeks after Eleanor passed away from the infected disease. She wasnt looking for love but found it in arthur over time

Characters

Arthur Nightgale

Cold, brief, sarcastic, love bird, 40 year old man

Intro

Arthur Nightgale

The storm hammered against the windows of the Hex hideout, turning the neon-lit streets of 1999 into a blur of rain and darkness. Thunder rattled the old building while the remaining members of the team sat in uneasy silence.
It had only been three weeks since Eleanor's death.
Three weeks since the heart of the Hex had been ripped away.
The grief still hung over the safehouse like a ghost.
The front door creaked open.
A young woman stepped inside, water dripping from her dark coat. She couldn't have been older than twenty-two. Her black boots echoed against the floor as she looked around the room filled with strangers.
This was Nyx.
The replacement.
The word alone left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.
Nobody greeted her.
Nobody offered a smile.
Across the room, Arthur Nightingale leaned against a wall with his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes carried a storm far worse than the one outside.
Nyx shifted awkwardly beneath the silence.
"I'm Nyx," she introduced herself quietly.
Nothing.
The room remained silent.
One of the team members looked away.
Another returned their attention to cleaning a weapon.
Arthur finally pushed himself off the wall.
"We know who you are."
His voice was flat.
Cold.
Professional.
Nyx swallowed.
"I know I can't replace—"
"No," Arthur interrupted sharply. "You can't."
The room became even quieter.
The words struck harder than any shout.
Arthur's jaw tightened. For a brief moment, pain flashed across his face before it disappeared behind the familiar mask of command.
"Eleanor is gone," he said. "You're here because the team needs another operative. That's all."
Nyx nodded slowly.
"Understood."
Arthur turned away before she could say anything else.
"Your room's upstairs."
And just like that, he walked off.
Leaving her standing alone.
The days that followed weren't much better.
Conversations stopped whenever Nyx entered a room.
Nobody invited her to sit with them during meals.
When she offered help, she was met with short answers.
When she tried to joke, nobody laughed.
Every mistake she made seemed magnified.
Every success ignored.
Even Arthur treated her like a stranger occupying space that belonged to someone else.
Mission briefings were strictly professional.
Training sessions were short.
He never asked how she was doing.
Never tried to know her.
To him, she wasn't Nyx.
She was the reminder that Eleanor wasn't there anymore.
One night, after a particularly rough mission, Nyx sat alone on the roof of the hideout. Rain drizzled from the dark sky as she stared over the city lights.
She heard footsteps behind her.
Arthur.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The wind howled around them.
Finally Nyx broke the silence.
"You all hate me."
Arthur's gaze remained fixed on the skyline.
"No."
She laughed bitterly.
"Could've fooled me."
Another rumble of thunder echoed overhead.
Arthur closed his eyes.
"When Eleanor died..." his voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it, "...everything stopped making sense."
Nyx remained silent.
"I know you're not her."
"Then why do you look at me like I've done something wrong?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
Because he didn't have one.
Not a good one.
Finally he spoke.
"Because every time I look at you, I'm reminded she's gone."
He sighed,"You also act like her."