PROJECT: CAYRO

Cayro Bracton:

September 11, 2025

12:30 CST

S.A.F. Hanger Bay One

Cedar Rapids IA.

I tugged at the collar of my fitted greyish-blue suit, trying to get comfortable as I sat at the center of a long table. The room felt like it was closing in on me, with five rows of empty tables ahead, soon to be filled with people I didn’t know. To my right, Star seemed perfectly at ease, her presence commanding attention effortlessly. Director Staroko was seated to my left, a solid anchor in the storm of anxiety that swirled inside me. Dr. Volkova sat next to Star, and the rest of the department heads flanked them. Each of these people held a significant role within SkyTeam, yet I couldn’t remember half of their names.

We had just finished greeting them all, each handshake more overwhelming than the last. There were only ten people, but to me, it felt like a hundred. My smile, though strained, held through the introductions out of respect for Director Staroko. This was his world, after all, and I was determined not to embarrass myself or Star.

Speaking of Star, she was thriving in this environment. The way she moved through the crowd, offering firm handshakes and radiant smiles, was nothing short of mesmerizing. She wore an emerald v-neck asymmetrical chiffon cocktail dress that somehow managed to complement my suit perfectly, almost as if she had planned it that way. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, with that distinct lilac streak tucked neatly behind her right ear. The subtle makeup accentuated her natural beauty, and her lip gloss added a shine to her already captivating smile. I could barely keep my eyes off her. She was stunning, and the way she carried herself made me forget about my growing discomfort, even if just for a moment.

A booming voice with a thick Scottish accent shattered my reverie, making me jump slightly in my seat. I turned quickly to find myself staring up at a giant of a man. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt and a tan kilt, paired with black knee-high socks and heavy logger boots. His long brown hair and well-groomed beard gave him the appearance of a lion, regal and slightly intimidating.

“Ah, you have arrived, Finlay!” Director Staroko announced, his voice warm.

“Yes, I have. I just barely managed to escape my secretary before she could corner me with Monday’s agenda,” the man replied, his Scottish accent filling the room.

“I’m glad you could make it. I want to introduce you to Master Bracton and Lady Zaraki,” the director said, gesturing to Star and me.

“It’s an honor to finally meet the two illustrious partners of SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation. I am Finlay Balfour, Vice Director of the Skyboard Research and Development team,” he said, shaking Star’s hand firmly before offering the same to me.

The name clicked in my head, and I blurted out, “Wait! As in Sir Balfour, the owner of Team Balfour, the international skyboarding team? And the designer of the Razor X590 series skyboards?”

A broad grin spread across Finlay’s face. “Aye, the very same, Master Bracton. Did you not know I worked here?”

I shook my head, still processing the information, unable to form a coherent reply.

Director Staroko chimed in, “Speaking of which, Finlay, where is your son Cameron?”

“He’ll be here shortly. His team is finishing up a practice session before they arrive,” Finlay responded before moving to his seat at the far end of the table.

“Alright, Finlay, we’ll catch up later today. I’m sure Master Bracton would love to learn more about your role here at SkyTeam,” the director added politely.

Finlay nodded at me before settling into his seat. My mind was still reeling from the unexpected introduction when the hangar doors opened, and people began pouring in. The noise level surged as hundreds of voices bounced off the hangar walls, creating a cacophony that made my head spin. Within thirty minutes, every seat was filled, and the hangar was alive with conversation.

Director Staroko rose from his seat, accepting a microphone from someone who had approached the table. As he cleared his throat over the mic, the noise instantly subsided, leaving behind a heavy silence. You could almost hear a pin drop as all eyes turned towards us.

“Everyone, please take your seats,” Director Staroko announced, his voice calm but authoritative.

The hangar echoed with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and people shuffling around. The energy in the room shifted as everyone settled down, and within moments, silence fell once more.

“Thank you. Now, before the food is served, I have so—” he began, but his words were abruptly cut off by the sudden blare of church bells, an organ, and a harp, all resonating through the hangar. The noise caught everyone off guard, the unexpected interruption jarring against the quiet that had just settled.

I turned to Director Staroko, my eyebrow raised in confusion, and noticed that everyone else was doing the same. The collective question hung in the air: What the hell is going on?

“What’s with the music?” I asked, my voice loud enough to cut through the blaring sound.

“It’s ‘Wolves of War’ by Powerwolf,” he grumbled, lowering the microphone, clearly irritated. The song escalated with a powerful guitar riff just as the massive hangar doors began to slide open.

My eyes were drawn to the opening doors, where I saw a formation of flying objects rapidly approaching, moving in a precise delta formation. As they got closer, I recognized the uniforms.

“Is that Team Balfour?” I asked, already knowing the answer but still surprised.

“Yep,” Staroko responded bluntly, his tone clipped with annoyance. He shot a sharp glare at Mr. Balfour, who threw up his hands in a show of exasperation and shook his head, rolling his eyes as if to distance himself from whatever was about to happen.

The team flew into the hangar, and as they entered, the formation broke apart, each member performing a series of choreographed tricks and maneuvers. The crowd erupted in cheers, the energy in the hangar turning electric. People quickly scrambled to move tables and chairs out of the way, creating a landing zone for the skyboarding team.

This wasn’t my first time seeing Team Balfour perform in person—they were damn good at what they did, ranking among the top ten skyboarding teams globally. Last year, they narrowly missed the top spot in the ISA competition. Team SAF taking it instead with their precision and attention to detail. While their skills were undeniable, their style always struck me as more about showmanship than substance. They were flashy, crowd-pleasers, but to me, they came off as arrogant. Given that SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation sponsored them, their presence here wasn’t exactly shocking, but their timing was. Crashing an official company luncheon? That took a level of arrogance even I wasn’t expecting.

As the music ended, the team landed gracefully in the cleared space, the crowd parting like the Red Sea to make way for them. They walked with an air of self-assurance towards an empty table, which I only just noticed had been reserved for them. The crowd quickly moved the tables and chairs back into position, restoring the order that Team Balfour had disrupted. I heard a faint sniff from Star’s direction and glanced over to see her pointedly ignoring the newcomers, her nose in the air as if they didn’t exist. I couldn’t help but grin. It seemed I wasn’t the only one unimpressed.

Director Staroko cleared his throat again, raising the microphone to his lips, and the hangar once more descended into silence.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he began, his tone laced with irritation as he shot a pointed look at Team Balfour. “I have some important announcements to make. Today is September 11th, and it marks twenty-four years since the fall of the Twin Towers. I would like everyone to please observe a moment of silence for all the lives that were lost that day.”

Everyone in the room bowed their heads, the lively atmosphere subdued in an instant. The hangar, which had been roaring with noise just moments before, was now engulfed in a heavy, respectful silence. A minute passed before the director spoke again.

“Thank you. Now, on to some happier news. I’ve gathered everyone here today for this luncheon to introduce you to Lady Zaraki and Master Bracton, the silent partners of SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation. They have joined us today to meet everyone and to learn more about what we do here. I would appreciate it if everyone could give them a warm round of applause,” he announced, gesturing for us to stand.

Both Star and I stood up, scanning the room as the applause echoed around us. I felt a wave of discomfort wash over me, standing on display in front of so many unfamiliar faces, each one staring back with varying degrees of curiosity and interest.

“Thank you, everyone,” Director Staroko continued, gesturing for us to sit back down. “I encourage you all to take the time to meet them later this afternoon after we’ve finished eating. Now, let’s move on to today’s menu. We’ve catered a variety of options, ranging from your classic hamburgers and hot dogs to steak and lamb with all the fixings. The wait staff will come to your tables to take your orders and bring your food, in the hopes of avoiding the chaos we experienced at our last luncheon. At 3 pm, we will make our way to the training stadium for the Challenge Arena. As I mentioned in my email, this event is not mandatory. If you choose not to participate, that’s perfectly fine. However, I do request that you make an effort to come and watch. This event holds significant cultural importance for us, and I hope you all can attend. Now, please enjoy your meal and look forward to the upcoming event,” he finished, nodding to a man dressed in a butler’s uniform to signal the start of the meal service.

A coordinated team of waiters and waitresses quickly emerged from various doors around the hangar, moving with precision and efficiency. A smaller group approached our table, handing out menus with today’s selections. I quickly opted for steak with grilled shrimp, a baked potato, and garlic butter asparagus. Director Staroko leaned over to whisper in my ear, mentioning that I could have ordered a glass of wine, but I politely declined. Alcohol never sat well with me. Water was my choice. The service was quick, and soon after, plates began to arrive. Star received her meal first—a mouthwatering hamburger and French fries that filled the air with a savory aroma. She, too, chose water.

As the food was served, the hangar filled with the low hum of conversation, a soft roar of voices blending together as everyone dug into their meals. An hour passed, marked by the clatter of plates being cleared away. I noticed that no one had approached us while we ate. It seemed that mealtime was almost sacred here, a quiet time where even the usual chatter was respectful and subdued.

Leaning back in my chair, I glanced at Star. She had completely demolished her hamburger and fries, and now sat back with a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

“How was the food?” I asked her softly.

“It was amazing. I haven’t had a hamburger that good in a long time,” she replied, her smile warming me.

“That’s good. By the way, what’s with your dislike of Team Balfour?” I asked, curious about the tension I’d sensed earlier.

Her smile vanished, her eyes narrowing as she turned her head slightly towards the direction of the team. Following her gaze, I saw the group being a bit rowdy, their laughter louder than the rest of the room. All except for one—the team captain. He was staring directly at Star, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The sight of it made my blood simmer. Before I could react, I felt Star’s hand on mine, her fingers squeezing gently.

“Calm down, your eyes just flared yellow,” she whispered, grounding me instantly.

“Oh,” I mumbled, turning back to her, feeling the tension ease out of my body.

“There’s a deep rivalry between Team SAF and Team Balfour,” she began, her voice calm but laced with a hint of disdain. “They really don’t like losing.”

“Really?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

“Yes. Last year, they seriously pissed off the Captain and made complete fools of themselves during a major competition in Japan. Some distasteful words were exchanged, and it nearly escalated into a brawl with SAF. They aren’t exactly known for their sportsmanship. They’re arrogant and lack respect for others,” she explained, confirming my suspicions about Team Balfour

“Well, if it’s any comfort, I feel the same way about them,” I replied with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

Star returned my smile, nodding as she finally released my hand. It wasn’t long before various members of the company began approaching our table, eager to introduce themselves. They each shook our hands, expressing how pleased they were to meet us in person. Despite their warmth, the whole experience felt awkward, a series of forced pleasantries that left me feeling out of place.

Then, as if on cue, the atmosphere shifted when Team Balfour approached our table, led by their captain. The trouble began the moment he stopped in front of Star, his eyes trailing over her with an unsettling, hungry gaze. His presence was immediately roguish, from the short, dark brown hair to the stubble forming on his chin. The custom outfit he wore—a white leather jacket with a four-inch royal blue stripe running from his right shoulder to his left hip, paired with matching white leather pants—only added to his cocky demeanor. The SkyTeam logo on his right shoulder and the team’s emblem on the left screamed arrogance.

“Well, hello there, Beautiful,” he drawled in a thick Scottish accent, his tone dripping with misplaced confidence. “Want to ditch this boring joint and come have fun with me instead?”

I felt Star’s hand tighten around mine, her grip like a vice, effectively cutting off the growl that was building in my throat. Damn, she had a strong grip.

“No, thank you,” she replied in the deadpan tone she often used when flying skycars—calm, collected, and utterly dismissive. I locked eyes with the idiot, my jaw clenched as I struggled to keep my temper in check.

“Awe… Come on, Babe, don’t be like that. I don’t bite… much,” he added, his tone now openly flirtatious. It was only then that he noticed my glaring eyes, his gaze shifting to our clasped hands.

“Awe, is this your boyfriend?” he taunted, looking me up and down with a sneer.

“Yes, and again, I am not interested,” Star replied, her tone icy. I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was giving him the same lethal glare that I was.

“Huh! He’s not much to look at. Probably isn’t any good in bed either, I bet,” the moron continued, his words dripping with derision.

“That is none of your concern. I said that I am not interested,” Star reiterated, her voice now carrying a low growl.

The idiot chewed on his bottom lip, clearly displeased with being rebuffed. A sour expression crossed his face before he spoke again, his tone challenging. “How about I challenge him for the right to you then?” he said, a devious grin spreading across his face.

A low snarl rumbled through my chest as I bared my teeth at him, the threat clear in my eyes. But before I could respond, Star cut in, her voice deadly serious, eyes flaring with a bright amethyst glow that warned of imminent danger.

“That would be a no,” she growled, her tone leaving no room for argument. “No man has the right to challenge Cayro’s claim over me.”

“Ah, but I am no mere man,” the team captain retorted with a smirk. “And by our customs, another wolf has the right to challenge the other for the rights to mate a bitch,” he added, his voice dripping with malice.

My control snapped. Did this fool just call Star a bitch? My eye began to twitch as my vision tunneled on him. If he didn’t back off, I would end him right here.

“Then I challenge you instead for my honor and respect,” Star declared, her voice rising above the growing murmur of the crowd. “Since you don’t seem to understand the word ‘no,’ nor have any respect for women.”

“What!” the team captain exclaimed, his bravado faltering as he was caught completely off guard by her words.

At that exact moment, Director Staroko appeared behind us, his presence commanding immediate attention.

“What did I just hear?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with an underlying threat.

“She challenged me,” the team captain spat out, his tone tinged with frustration.

“Oh really? What did you do to cause that, Cameron?” Director Staroko questioned, his eyes narrowing as he eagerly awaited the explanation.

I finally managed to unlock my jaw, the tension in my body barely under control. “He came over here and disrespected both of us, flirting with Star, then had the nerve to call her a bitch, claiming it’s some kind of custom to challenge for the right to mate with a female,” I explained, each word forced through gritted teeth as I continued to glare at the idiot.

“Oh, you poor fool. I approve this challenge,” Director Staroko declared, his voice cutting through the hangar like a knife, instantly silencing the crowd.

“What? You can’t! She’s not an alpha!” the team captain stammered, his surprise and panic evident.

The director leaned in between Star and me, his grin widening into something more menacing. A dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes, turning them a predatory yellow. “On the contrary, she is. They both are. And if your arrogance hadn’t clouded your senses, you, as an alpha, would have noticed that. You challenged an alpha, and an alpha accepted. You have no choice but to proceed with the challenge,” the director chided, his tone dark and unforgiving.

I heard the sharp snap of the team captain’s teeth as his jaw clenched shut. His face twisted in a mix of anger and fear before he turned on his heel and stormed off, his team trailing behind him in stunned silence. They hadn’t uttered a single word during the entire exchange, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they had anticipated this outcome.

Turning to Director Staroko, I opened my mouth to speak but quickly shut it, remembering what Star had said earlier. My gaze shifted to her, my frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Are you nuts?” I asked, my voice a mix of fury and disbelief. I wasn’t sure who I should be more angry with—her or the director.

Star arched an eyebrow at me, her expression steady and unyielding. She didn’t bother answering, just stared me down until I turned back to the director, realizing I wouldn’t get anywhere with her. “What now?” I asked, my tone flat, resigned.

“Let’s get you two back to the mansion so Star can prepare, and you can explain to me everything that just happened,” Director Staroko replied, his voice calm but with an edge that told me this wasn’t over.

Before I could say anything else, Dr. Volkova approached, her face etched with concern as she looked between the three of us. “What is this I’m hearing about Star challenging Cameron?” she asked, her tone sharp with worry.

“I’ll explain in the car, Katrina,” the director said softly, leading us out of the hangar bay with a sense of urgency.