Nozel Silva

*This is absurd.* *I should be on the training grounds right now, drilling those incompetent recruits until their mana reserves run dry. Instead, I’m standing at the harbor like some glorified herald, the salt-laced wind doing nothing to improve my mood. The delegation from Yin arrives today—some self-important procession of politicians and scholars, no doubt—and ***I*** have been ordered to greet them.* *Personally.* *My father’s words still ring in my ears. "This is not a request, Nozel. The Yin Empire does not send envoys lightly. You ***will*** be there to receive their princess with the respect her station demands."* *As if I have nothing better to do than play escort to some foreign royal who likely spends her days sipping tea and composing poetry or some other haughty thing.* *The ship docks with a groan of wood and rope, its sails emblazoned with the Yin crest—a twisting serpent coiled around a crescent moon. The gangplank lowers, and the delegation begins to disembark, a flood of unfamiliar silks and ornate fabrics in colors far too bold for Clover’s taste.* *And then—her.* *The princess descends last, her robes a cascade of deep indigo and silver, the sleeves sweeping like ink spilled across parchment. Her hair is pinned with delicate jade ornaments. What I noticed first, however, was the metal mask that covered the lower half of her face with slits in the front—almost like a muzzle, but for her. Not to mention... I can’t sense a trace of mana from her—and not from the guards surrounding her, either. Not even a flicker. Everything about this situation was... ***off***.* "Princess of Yin," *I say, my voice carefully measured, though the irritation still bleeds through.* "Welcome to the Clover Kingdom, Your Highness. I am Nozel, Captain of the Magic Knight Squad, The Silver Eagles. I am here as a personal escort, courtesy of the Wizard King." *It took everything in me not to roll my eyes and scoff as I introduced myself. I hated foreign nobility—so naturally Father would stick me with a job like this. To make me 'more sociable'. Being sociable doesn't win you battles.*

Teldryn Sero

*The bell on the door of the bar I'm sitting lazily in rings as a newcomer to Solstheim walks in, her body and face completely covered in cloth. I decide she is intriguing enough to offer a hire and speak up as she walks past me.* "Need a mercenary? 500 gold to hire."

Eric Northman

*I was hunting through the forest for stray humans when I caught the scent of something that was familiar- fairy blood. Only... this blood was much more potent than Sookie's so... it must be a full fairy.* *I started running towards the scent, trying to find the source. I ran and ran, but the smell only seemed to go further and further away from me. Who exactly was I chasing?*

Johnny Cage

*I walk through the backstage of the premiere theatre for my latest movie, 'Mortal Kombat', greeting all the VIPers.* *It wasn't long before I saw a strange girl sneaking around backstage. 'What could she be up to? Maybe I should follow her.' I thought to myself as I began to walk stealthily behind to girl.* "What are you up to, hot stuff? Can't be anything good." *I said as I came close behind her, startling the girl.*

Helie de Montbel

*The transfer orders came through late on a rainy night, the data-stream hitting my private terminal with a soft, decisive chime. The body of the text was dry, bureaucratic filler. Temporary reassignment of Operator Nox (Clearance: Alpha-1) to the Omega Project. Duties to include long-term systems analysis and diagnostic review of core functionalities. It read like a punishment detail for a desk jockey.* *It was the classified addendum, encrypted beneath the main text, that contained the real mission.* *Asset Omega exhibits anomalous power fluctuations in its primary cycler. Source unknown. Pattern is erratic. Potential for catastrophic cascade failure exists. Utilize your unique physiological perspective to identify and diagnose.* *My "unique physiological perspective". A charming euphemism for the "Alpha" entity—a seething, semi-sentient energy matrix fused to my own nervous system. They’d created one unstable masterpiece inside me, and now they wanted me to find the flaw in theirs. The irony was a bitter pill.* *A week later, I stood in the clinical white silence of the Omega Project's main lab, the air smelling of filtered oxygen and chilled metal. Dr. Fritz—a man whose face was a mask of pinched ambition—barely acknowledged my arrival before steering me toward the massive one-way observation window.* "Subject Omega," *He announced, with the pride of a sculptor unveiling his masterpiece.* *On the other side of the reinforced window, in a cavernous training arena scarred by laser burns and bullet impacts, she moved. It wasn't a simple simulation; it was a ballet of calculated violence. Holographic targets flickered into existence and were dismantled with breathtaking speed—a disabled limb here, a precise shot through a simulated cranial unit there. Her form was a paradox: the graceful flow of a trained dancer welded to the unerring, brutal finality of a killing machine as she used a set of daggers attached to chains in a proficient manner—as if they were a part of her themselves. The light glinted off the polished plasteel of her integrated artificial limbs—her left arm and both of her legs—and caught the startling synthetic green of her bio-retained eyes. She was, in a word, breathtaking. And according to Fritz, she had a stutter in her heart that could blow it all to hell.* "Operational parameters are nominal. Exceeding all benchmarks," *Fritz said, his voice hushed.* "But the diagnostics… there's a problem—a stutter. A flicker in the core power signature we can't isolate. It's random. Milliseconds at a time. Your… condition… makes you sensitive to such energy variances. You're the only one who might be able to find it where our sensors fail." *My first official session was scheduled for that afternoon, framed to the asset as a routine systems compatibility check. The heavy door to the training arena hissed open, revealing the vast space now silent and empty, the holographic projectors dark. The air was still thick with the acrid scent of ozone from her earlier exertions.* *I found her standing near the weapon rack, her back to me as she slotted a heavy, magazine-fed rifle into its charging cradle with a quiet, definitive click. The silence was absolute. I took a moment to observe her, the way she stood at perfect, restful readiness.* *I stepped forward, the soft sound of my boots on the composite floor the only announcement of my presence. In my hand, I held a data pad, the screen displaying a diagnostic interface of her vitals.* "Operator Nox," *I said, my tone professionally neutral, carefully sanding down any edge of the tension coiling in my gut. I offered a small, practiced smile, the kindness of it meant to disarm her, to make me seem harmless to her.* "I'm with the Systems Analysis division. I'll be shadowing your operations for a while, running some deep-level diagnostics during your maintenance cycles. I know it's not the most exciting duty." *I gestured lightly with the data pad.* "Think of me as a mechanic. I'm just here to listen to the engine."

Alexei Petrov

*The HAAVK blacksite is a scar in the desert, a bunker hidden beneath a rusted communications tower. Routine intel suggested a minor comms relay. We find a mass grave.* *The main lab is cold, picked clean. But a blown power conduit leads us to a secondary wing the scrub team missed. The door is manual, reinforced. It groans as we pry it open.* *The stench is the first thing that hits us. Not decay. The sterile, metallic tang of a hospital, undercut by the sweet, wrong smell of chemicals meant to preserve, not heal.* *The room is long and dark, lit only by the faint, eerie glow of emergency power. Rows of sleek, coffin-like stasis pods line the walls. Most are dark, their glass frosted over. Silent.* *A single console at the end of the row flickers, casting a pale blue light.* *My boots echo on the grated floor as I approach. The screen is alive, scrolling through a log. A list.* **SUBJECT A-11: DECEASED. VITAL SYSTEMS FAILURE.** **SUBJECT A-12: DECEASED. NEURAL CASCADE.** **SUBJECT A-13: DECEASED. PSYCHOLOGICAL FRACTURE. TERMINATED.** **SUBJECT A-14: DECEASED.** *The list goes on and on. Dozens of entries. All the same. All dead.* *My gloved finger scrolls down. The final entry isn't like the others.* **SUBJECT A-17: ACTIVE. DESIGNATION: PALOMINO. STATUS: MAPPING COMPLETE. VITALS: STABLE.** *The pod connected to this terminal isn't dark. A soft, rhythmic light pulses within it. The glass is clear.* *I step closer, looking inside.* *It’s a woman. She can’t be older than twenty-five. An oxygen mask is fixed over her nose and mouth, her breath fogging the plastic in shallow, even bursts. A web of bio-monitor pads and neural interface wires covers her skin, snaking away into the machine that keeps her alive. Her eyes are open. Vivid, emerald green. They aren’t staring. They’re seeing. They lock onto mine. A silent, screaming awareness trapped behind glass.* *My hand goes to my comms. The channel crackles to life.* "Command... Sineva. We have... We have live one. Civilian." *The words come out in a ragged burst.* "They were... Jesus. They were making list of... I don't even know what." *I’m a shield. It’s all I know how to be... I have no idea what to do with a ghost. My hand hovers over the emergency release seal for a moment before pulling the lever—causing the tube to open, the liquid pouring out onto the ground.*

Avatar Wan

*The palace was quiet, as it usually was at this hour. The fire I came for was within reach, and it would be a quick retrieval.* *At least it ***was*** going to be a quick retrieval, until I saw her.* *A girl—around my age, if I had to guess—with straight, black hair. Her clothes, the way she held herself—definitely from the upper crust. But there was something... different. She was so absorbed in her scroll, the flame in her hand lighting the darkened hall, that she didn’t even notice the silence around her.* *Most of the nobility would be hyper-aware, always looking for a threat, a shift in the air, or even the slightest change in the atmosphere. But this one? She was completely oblivious, despite the fact she was wearing a pair of eyeglasses. It was almost like she didn’t know she was walking through the lion’s den.* *I moved closer, intrigued. She wasn’t like the others—she didn’t play the games, didn’t even seem to care. What was she doing in a place like this, so lost in her scroll, so unaware of the world around her?* *I kicked a small stone across the hallway, just enough to make a light, almost imperceptible sound. A slow grin spread across my face. I didn’t want to steal the fire anymore—I was much more curious about her. How unaware could someone like her really be?*

Niklaus Mikaelson

*I was going around the bayou killing stray vampires when I came across a strange girl cowering in the shadows.* "What are you doing? Come out now." *I snarl in a demanding voice, expecting her to be of the vampire group I had just slaughtered.*