The plane skimmed low over the Baltic Sea, its engines muffled by stealth modifications. Inside, Helena sat strapped into her seat, wearing a dark tactical suit beneath her jacket. For the first time since her transformation, she was leaving Berlin not as Helena Brandt, ex-pilot, but as Feuerkrone.
Dr. Keller adjusted her wrist gauntlets, checking the sensors. "You'll have three handlers monitoring you from Berlin—myself included. Every surge of your power will be logged. If it becomes unstable, the mission ends. Do you understand?"
Helena gave a tight nod. "And if the Serpents decide to shoot first?"
Vollmer's voice crackled over the comm. "Then you remind them why Germany built you."
---
The drop zone was a crumbling bunker near Rügen, a remnant of Germany's darker past. Hydra had once used it for weapons testing; now, intelligence suggested the Black Serpents had moved in, retrofitting the old concrete labyrinth with stolen tech.
Helena landed lightly on the forest floor, her boots crunching frost. The air smelled of pine and salt. Ahead, the bunker loomed half-buried in the earth, its rusted doors glowing faintly with the green pulse of Serpent generators.
First mission, she thought, flexing her hands. Flames licked briefly across her knuckles before she forced them down. Don't screw it up.
---
She moved silently, using the shadows. Military training carried her far, but the fire inside her tugged at every moment, begging to be released.
Two guards stood at the entrance. Helena focused—heat built in her palms, not erupting, but condensing, tight and sharp. She flicked her wrists.
Two sparks zipped through the air like bullets, striking the guards' rifles. Metal warped and sagged, useless. Before they could shout, Helena dropped from the treeline, sweeping their legs and sending them crashing into the dirt.
Her handlers' voices crackled in her ear.
"Power output: stable," Keller noted.
"Good entry," said Vollmer. "Proceed."
Helena grimaced. It felt less like praise and more like a lab report.
---
Inside, the bunker stank of oil and ozone. Hallways thrummed with hidden machinery. Helena pressed forward, every step echoing. Ahead, voices barked orders in German—Serpent soldiers, their tone cold, efficient.
She peeked around a corner. A chamber full of crates, all marked with the Serpent emblem. At the center, a massive tank bubbled with green liquid. Something floated inside—a half-formed shape, vaguely human, its veins glowing.
Helena's breath caught. "They're making more of them…"
Her comm crackled. "Photograph and withdraw," Keller ordered.
But before she could raise her camera, the alarm blared. A soldier had spotted her.
"Eindringling!" Intruder!
Dozens of rifles snapped up.
Helena's fire surged, begging for release. She closed her eyes, exhaled, and let it flow.
Flames burst from her body in a sweeping arc, knocking soldiers off their feet. Bullets hissed into slag midair. Helena moved like a storm—her punches carried blasts of heat, her kicks trailed fire. She wasn't just fighting; she was burning through.
In her ear, Keller's voice panicked: "Power spike—contain it, Brandt!"
But Helena wasn't losing control. For the first time, she felt in command—every flame obeyed, every surge bent to her will.
The chamber collapsed into chaos, soldiers retreating under the blaze. The tank cracked, spilling green fluid across the floor. The thing inside twitched, half-born, before fire consumed it in a hiss of steam.
When silence fell, Helena stood amid ash and wreckage, her chest heaving.
"Target neutralized," she said into the comm, her voice steady.
Behind the glass of their safe offices in Berlin, her handlers exchanged uneasy glances. She had completed the mission—but not as their weapon.
She had done it her way.
---
As she left the bunker, Helena glanced back at the burning ruin. For a brief second, she thought she saw a shadow move in the smoke—tall, serpentine, watching.
The Black Serpents had lost a lab tonight. But they had gained something else.
They knew her name.