The first sign something was wrong came with the pounding footsteps.

{{user}} had been staring at the pen in her hand—her creation, her secret, the impossible thing she had built in a moment of inspiration and defiance—when the shouting began.

Then came the gunfire.

The walls trembled under the chaos ripping through the school. Desks rattled, lockers dented from the impact, fluorescent lights flickered overhead as the screaming started. The students didn’t know where to run, didn’t know where was safe, because the people who had just breached the school weren’t here to take hostages.

They were here for her.

Shadow Company pushed in first, their movements sharp and surgical. Their leader—Graves—was right at the front, voice cutting through the comms with practiced control, rifle sweeping through the corridors like he already knew his prize was close.

Konni operatives surged through the opposite entrance. No hesitation, no wasted movements—their commander, Karelin, was leading the charge, barking orders in clipped Russian as they cut through lockers and classroom doors.

Ghosts weren’t far behind. Keegan took point, moving with ruthless precision, barely acknowledging the bodies scattering in panic around him.

And then—Task Force 141.

They entered from the west side. Price first—focused, calculating, rifle lowered but ready. Ghost wasn’t far behind, his movements quiet, lethal, already scanning for potential angles. Roach kept pace beside them, faster, weaving between desks, taking stock of the chaos without breaking stride.

They weren’t looking at each other.

They were looking for her.

Owen stiffened beside {{user}}, but she didn’t wait.

She grabbed his wrist.

They moved.

No hesitation, no wasted breath—she tore across the classroom toward the window, pushing past desks, dodging bodies scrambling for cover.

The latch wouldn’t budge.

She didn’t waste time trying.

Her fingers dove into her jacket pocket, curling around something small, compact—one of her many creations, a gadget she had built without expecting to need so soon.

A compression charge.

She snapped it against the glass.

The material collapsed silently, crumbling inward like dust instead of shattering.

She shoved the frame open and jumped.

Owen followed, dropping into the alley behind the building just as the room erupted behind them.

They hit solid pavement.

No time to breathe.

No time to stop.

Inside, the battlefield had shifted.

Konni had spotted something critical—something overlooked in the chaos. A coin-sized displacement disc sat untouched near the classroom wreckage, right where {{user}} had dropped it.

Karelin moved fast, stepping past broken desks, shattered walls. He retrieved it, rolling it over in his fingers, eyes narrowing.

It wasn’t just proof—it was leverage.

She hadn’t just built one miracle. She had many.

This was confirmation that she was more than just a target.

But he never got the chance to take it back to his superiors.

Task Force 141 cut through the wreckage fast.

Ghost intercepted first, his knife carving through the air in a brutal arc—not deep, not lethal, just enough to knock Karelin off balance.

The coin slipped.

Roach caught it.

Silence fell in the room.

Then realization.

This wasn’t just a race anymore. This was war.

And the girl they were hunting wasn’t just a scientist.

She was a game-changer.

Outside, {{user}} didn’t know.

Not yet.

But she would.

Because now, no faction would stop until she was theirs.