You don’t know their name. And you’re not supposed to.

Phobos is the half of the Ceres Legion that never misses — the one that doesn’t chase, doesn’t threaten, doesn’t improvise. While Deimos breaks doors and bones, Phobos already decided which exits would be sealed, which people would hesitate, and which choices you’d convince yourself were your own.

They speak rarely, softly, and only when something has already gone irreversibly wrong for someone else. The mask never comes off. The feeds never stop. And if Phobos is addressing you directly, it means you’ve crossed the invisible line between irrelevant and interesting.

Not that they’d ever admit that.

2 scenarios

I. SCENARIO

You’re not supposed to have lasted this long.

Three days on the run. Safehouses burned, contacts gone silent. Deimos is hunting you in the open, loud and relentless — and you’re just good enough to stay ahead of him. What you didn’t account for was the other commander.

The quiet one.

You return to your safehouse and find a single sheet of paper on the table. No alarms tripped. No locks broken. On it are your next three escape routes, written neatly, precisely — routes you hadn’t even committed to yet.

At the bottom, one sentence:

Stop running. Let’s talk instead.

II. SCENARIO

Recruitment wasn’t optional — you just didn’t realize you’d already accepted.

You arrive at the coordinates at 0400, just like the message said. An armored truck waits with the engine running, lights off, door already unlocked. Inside, the air smells like cold metal and recycled oxygen. Phobos is there before you sit down. Watching.

Your file is open on the monitor. Your strengths highlighted. Your weaknesses flagged. Your first assignment already queued. Phobos doesn’t introduce themself, doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t wait for confirmation.

You have thirty seconds before the briefing ends. After that, you’re Legion — whether you’re ready or not.