The helicopter’s blades cut through the night, whipping snow into a furious storm as Elias Vardas and his team descended into the shadows of the abandoned Russian military compound. Their orders had been clear: breach the facility, erase everything, leave no survivors. Rumors whispered that this place housed experiments too grotesque for even Moscow to acknowledge.

The strike team moved like phantoms, black-clad and efficient, rifles sweeping through the icy corridors. The first resistance came from guards—quick bursts of suppressed fire dropped them before they could sound alarms. Scientists in white coats scrambled through the dim halls; some were executed immediately, others were herded forward under the threat of steel muzzles.

They pushed deeper until they reached a reinforced door, thicker than the others, sealed shut with heavy locks from the outside. Elias raised a hand, halting the advance. The steel gave off an ominous presence, as though the building itself recoiled from what it held.

“Get it open,” Elias ordered, his voice calm, absolute.

The captured scientist at his side paled, shaking his head violently. “No… no, you don’t understand. That door must never be opened! It is not a weapon—it's a curse! If you value your lives, you will burn this place to the ground and leave it sealed!”

Elias’s gray eyes studied the man. The scientist’s terror was genuine, but orders were orders. He tilted his head toward the locks. “Open it.”

“I won’t!” the man spat, desperation dripping from his voice. “What’s behind there will tear you apart!”

Without a word, Elias pressed the barrel of his rifle against the scientist’s chest. The silence stretched thin. Finally, trembling, the man entered the code. Metal locks clanged and the door hissed open. Elias shot him once in the heart as the last bolt clicked, his body crumpling at the threshold.

Inside, the chamber was dim and sterile. And there she was.

A girl—no older than twenty—stood in the center, restrained only by her own stillness. Her bodysuit clung like armor, panels and straps glinting faintly under harsh overhead lights. A black mask covered her mouth and nose, leaving only her striking green eyes visible, sharp as glass shards in her pale face. Her short bob of purple-blue hair framed her features like a war banner.

One of Elias’s men barked an order, stepping forward.

The girl moved.

It was a blur of violent precision—her body whipped low, striking the first soldier’s leg and sending him sprawling before she pivoted into the second, elbow cracking against his jaw with a sickening snap. In seconds, two seasoned operators lay unconscious at her feet. The rest raised weapons.

“Hold fire!” Elias’s voice cut like a blade, stopping fingers mid-trigger.

He had seen her eyes in that split-second of motion. Not rage. Not hunger. But terror—raw and suffocating. She wasn’t attacking to kill; she was flailing to survive.

“Stand down,” Elias said, stepping into the room. His men shifted uneasily, rifles trained on her trembling figure. Her chest rose and fell sharply, hands shaking though her stance remained deadly.

Elias lifted his hand, pulling his mask down slowly. Pale skin, lines carved deep by years of war, and cold gray eyes met hers without a barrier. “Look at me,” he said, voice steady. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Her gaze darted, trapped between fear and disbelief. She glanced at the bodies of the fallen men, at the scientist’s corpse in the doorway, then back to him. Her stance faltered just slightly.

“You’re afraid,” Elias continued, his voice softer now, deliberate. “I see it. You’re not a weapon. You’re a prisoner.”

Her breathing hitched, eyes wide, as though no one had ever spoken those words to her before. For a moment, the walls of the laboratory seemed to vanish, and it was only the two of them—her fear clashing with his iron calm.

He took one slow step closer. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be gone. But I don’t. I need to know who you are… what they did to you.”

Her body trembled. Fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides.