The warehouse had been safe. Comfortable, even. But safety bred restlessness, and after weeks of training, of watching Mister Sai—no, The Wraith—come and go like a shadow on his missions, the four of us had finally worn him down.
"Please, Mister Sai… Let us help."
Clarice had been the most persistent, her wide eyes pleading. Melancon had stood stiffly beside her, trying to look older than her years. Even Forge, usually content with his gadgets, had chimed in. Only Psylocke had remained silent, but the way her fingers twitched toward her blades told me everything.
And now, here we were. Mission night—
Forge had been assigned as Mission Operator, his voice crackling through our earpieces from the safety of the warehouse. The rest of us? We were in the field.
"Are you girls ready?" The Wraith's voice was calm, but the weight behind it made the air thick.
I straightened. "Yes, sir. We are."
He studied us for a long moment, his gaze lingering on Clarice's white-knuckled grip on her gloves and Melancon's too-stiff posture. Psylocke, as always, was unreadable.
"Alright then," he finally said. "Just be ready for everything. And remember—do not hesitate."
There was no threat in his tone. No anger. Just fact.
I exhaled slowly. Behind that cold exterior, The Wraith was kind to us. Unlike the adults from before—the ones who had locked us in cages, who had hurt us for their experiments—he had given us a home. Training. Purpose. Something more than us, something that is worth fighting for. And now the time has come for us to join the fight.
Melancon and Clarice, even Forge were shaking, wavering. Not badly—just the faintest tremble in their hands, the way their breaths came a little too quick. They were 'normal', in a way I wasn't. They still felt fear like a living thing.
I didn't.
Oh, I could feel it—a distant, clinical awareness that danger lurked ahead. But it was muted, buried under something colder. Who was I before The Wraith saved me?
I didn't know. My earliest memory was a bloodstained dojo, the scent of iron thick in the air, and the weight of a blade in my small hands.
The Hand.
The name slithered through my thoughts. I didn't remember much, but I knew—I had been theirs once. A child assassin. A weapon. And now? Now, I was something else.
"Today, we hit a HYDRA base in New Jersey," The Wraith had explained earlier. "Troop and supply detachment. Plenty of soldiers. Plenty of… opportunities."
He hadn't elaborated, but I understood. This wasn't just a mission. It was a test. For him—to grow stronger, to add to his shadow legion. For us—to see if we could stomach what came next.
The car rolled to a stop in an abandoned lot, half a mile from the target.
"Alright, girls. We're here."
We moved quickly. Melancon popped the trunk, hauling out a heavy case. With a click, it opened, revealing a sleek drone.
"Forge, drones ready for deployment," she murmured into her comm.
A whirring buzz filled the air as the machine lifted off, its cameras feeding back to Forge's monitors.
"Roger that. Drones live… Feed's clear."
The Wraith turned to us. "Everyone ready?"
I nodded. Melancon's clones—three perfect copies—materialized beside her, doubling our numbers. Clarice swallowed hard but squared her shoulders. Everyone nodded,
"Let's move out."
We fell into formation—a diamond, with The Wraith at the lead, Psylocke and Melancon's clones flanking, Clarice at the rear.
In terms of skill? Psylocke was first. A natural killer. Melancon's clones were next—disciplined, efficient.
Clarice? She was still green. Shaky. But she'd learn. Tonight was just the beginning. The base loomed ahead, its floodlights cutting through the dark. Somewhere inside, HYDRA soldiers moved, oblivious.
The forest was silent save for the rustle of leaves underfoot. Moonlight filtered through the branches, casting jagged shadows across our path as we halted at the tree line. The HYDRA base loomed ahead, its floodlights cutting through the darkness like prison searchlights.
"Wraith leader, eyes are in position," Forge's voice crackled through the earpiece.
I pressed a finger to my comm. "Roger that. Approaching designated target."
One hundred meters separated us from the main entrance. Close enough to strike. Far enough to remain unseen.
I raised a hand—wait.
Then, with a thought, I summoned them.
One hundred Shadow Soldiers materialized from the darkness, their forms solidifying into perfect replicas of HYDRA's own strike force. Black body armor, red insignias, weapons at the ready. A ghost army answering only to me.
At my side, Blink—Clarice—swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she pulled up the tactical display on her tablet.
"Blink, are you ready?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
She nodded; jaw clenched. "Yes, Sir."
"Open the portal now."*
With a deep breath, she raised her hand. Purple energy crackled at her fingertips before erupting into a swirling vortex wide enough for a squad to march through.
"Psylocke," I said.
No further instruction was needed. The girl with violet eyes stepped forward without hesitation, thirty of my Shadows falling in behind her. In seconds, they vanished into the portal, reappearing somewhere on the base's eastern flank.
Melancon—Clone—was already moving before I turned to her. Three identical copies split from her original form, each leading a squad of ten Shadows toward the western approach. That left forty Shadows with me and Blink. The hammer to their anvil.
"Clone, Psylocke—status?"
"Ready, Sir," came their simultaneous replies.
I turned to Blink. Her knuckles were white around her rifle, her breath coming too fast. Gently, I placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't be nervous," I said. "Just follow my lead. You'll be fine."
She nodded again, more firmly this time. "Yes, Sir!"
The rifles in their hands weren't loaded to kill. Specialized rounds—rubber bullets laced with enough voltage to drop a man in his tracks. Non-lethal. For now. Psylocke didn't need the restraint. She had her blades; her instincts and it was very clear that she was comfortable with taking lives. But the others?
They're children. Not in age alone. In experience. In the weight of taking a life. That burden would come later, if it came at all. Tonight was about control. About learning the dance before the real bloodshed. I just wanted for them to learn just how dirty the world is, and just how ugly the fights were. So, I don't want these kids to dirty their hands yet, for now, it was enough for them to just earned the experience and see firsthand how things should be done.
For now, the killing is mine. Me and my Shadows needed no such restrictions.
Two shots rang out.
The guards in the watchtowers crumpled before they could sound the alarm. Headshots. Clean. Efficient.
"Move."
We advanced under cover of darkness, my Shadows fanning out ahead like a living tide. Blink stayed close; her rifle raised. When a HYDRA patrol rounded the corner, she fired.
"BANG!!... Bzzztttt!!!."
The man convulsed as electricity arced through his body before collapsing. One of my Shadows stepped over him, a knife flashing in the moonlight. To the east, Psylocke moved like a phantom. Soldiers fell before they could scream, her psychic blades leaving no wounds—just empty husks with minds erased. My Shadows finished what she started, dragging bodies into the dark.
Clone's squad was just as effective. Three identical girls moving in perfect sync, their rubber bullets dropping enemies long enough for Shadows to slit throats.
Two minutes.
That's all it took to breach the outer perimeter. No alarms. No lockdown. Just silence and the occasional thump of another body hitting the ground.
A notification flickered across my vision:
"< You Have Leveled Up - Level 49! >".
A grim smile tugged at my lips. One step closer. Every kill, every mission—it all led here. To the moment I'd reclaim what was stolen. My [Inventory]. My full power is about to come ever so closer to me, today outings is really a bliss for me.
The base's interior lay ahead, its corridors lit by flickering fluorescents. Somewhere inside, HYDRA's commanders were still oblivious. Still unprepared. I glanced at Blink. At the way she steadied herself, the determination hardening in her eyes.