I ran through the dimly lit halls, my boots echoing off the concrete as I leapt over crates and ducked under loose wires. Alarms blared in the distance—sharp, angry sirens screaming my name. My heart raced, blood pounding in my ears, but I couldn't stop. Not now. I had the file. The file.
The one that could change everything.
I was nearly out when something slammed into me from the side, hard and fast. I hit the wall, the impact knocking the breath out of my lungs and the file out of my hands. I barely had time to register the blur of movement before more agents swarmed the corridor.
Adrenaline took over. I dove for the file, fists flying, slamming my way through the mob. One man fell, then another. I was getting closer to the exit, almost free—
Wham.
A crushing force pinned me against the wall. A hand wrapped around my neck, squeezing. I clawed at it, gasping, my vision blurring. Whoever it was, they weren't just trying to stop me. They were trying to kill me.
He was tall—taller than any of the others. A massive frame cloaked in black tactical gear. The light from a crack in the ceiling hit his face just enough to let me see his eyes.
An unnatural, chilling shade of blue.
I reached for the hidden knife in my boot, dragging it across his side. Nothing. He didn't even flinch. Armor. Great.
"Did you really think that would work?" he said, voice low and sharp like a blade. The sound of it made my skin crawl.
I thrashed, desperate. My nails found his face, scratching near his eyes. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough for me to twist free. I didn't stop to think. I ran.
But something felt wrong. I was slower. Dizzier. My legs shook beneath me. Still, I couldn't stop. I reached for another weapon, only to realize—I had dropped nearly everything. I was as good as dead if backup arrived.
I turned just in time to see him charge. I dodged, barely, but then my eyes caught a glint of metal.
His knife.
I froze.
No. No. That can't be…
That blade was the one everyone warned me about. A single cut from it spelled death. Not a slow death either—one that melted you from the inside out. And the only person who wielded it...
Agent Black.
I trembled. My legs nearly gave out.
If you ever encounter Black, run as far and fast as your legs can carry you.
I didn't have the luxury of running.
He attacked again—this time with his fists. Every strike I blocked sent searing pain up my arms. His strength was inhuman. One kick to my gut shattered my protective gear, flinging me against the wall. My skull throbbed. I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
He drew the knife again.
I stayed still.
Waited.
Let him get close.
As he lifted me by my shirt, I noticed something.
He hesitated.
The ceiling light hit my face.
My mask was gone.
His eyes locked with mine—and he paused.
Why?
Confused but not stupid, I took the chance. My hand gripped the hidden blade tucked near my ribs and stabbed it into his shoulder.
He shouted and dropped me.
I bolted, slipping through the door.
Somewhere in the chaos, a loud bang rang out.
Then—pain.
Hot. Sharp. Deep.
My stomach burned. I stumbled, then fell. Coughing. Blood.
I'd been shot.
I crawled into a narrow space between two buildings. My body screamed. My vision blurred. I activated the emergency beacon in my jacket, my fingers fumbling with the signal. Then—darkness.
I woke up to harsh, blinding light.
My body flinched, screaming in pain. A high-pitched ringing tore through my ears. I gasped and fell from the bed, yanking a needle out of my arm by accident. Panic set in. Too loud. Too much. Everything hurt. I pulled at my hair just to feel something else.
Voices blurred.
Then black again.
---
When I opened my eyes next, I felt…nothing.
No pain. No strength either.
Just numbness.
I tried to move and failed. My limbs wouldn't respond. I looked down and saw the restraints.
Strapped.
To a hospital bed.
I barely heard the voices outside until they got louder.
"You're pushing her too hard—she's just a kid!"
Mara?
I tried to call her name, but all that came out was a cracked hoarse voice. Tears welled in my eyes. I tugged at the restraints, chest rising with panic.
A nurse spotted me. "Doctor, she's awake!"
I cried harder as the doctor approached. I tried to speak again, to ask them to remove the straps, but nothing came out. My throat felt raw. Thankfully, they understood and loosened them.
The relief almost broke me.
I stayed still, too afraid to move.
Then—
She rushed in, eyes wide with tears.
"I'm here," she said softly, hugging me carefully. Her warmth made the pain fade. I broke down, sobbing in her arms.
Then he walked in.
"Father."
Our adoptive father.
He looked as cold and composed as ever.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
I tried to sit up to greet him properly, but the pain stopped me. I winced.
"You don't have to do that," he said flatly.
Mara glared at him.
"I've spoken with the president. You've been granted two months of medical leave to recover."
Tch.
"Why are you talking like they're doing her a favor?" Mara snapped.
He ignored her.
"Fortunately," he continued, "the file was still in your possession when you were found. Despite your failure to secure your weapon, they've decided to pardon you. Your report is expected once you're discharged."
"Yes, sir," I responded. My voice hoarse.
Mara stood abruptly, brushing past him. As she reached the door, his voice stopped her.
"If you're so concerned, take your job back and help. You're a deviant. You won't survive out there on scraps."
I held my breath.
That hit deep.
But Mara didn't yell. She just stared, cold and silent. Then left.
He turned to me. "I'll keep in touch," he said, then left too.
Finally, silence.
I turned slowly to the window, pain aching in every joint.
Why did Black hesitate?
Do I know him?
No… I would remember eyes like that.
Wouldn't I?