Location; Tavara Intelligence Archives, Undisclosed Site
The hum of surveillance drones echoed faintly in the sterile underground chamber. Walls of data panels blinked in rhythmic patterns, painting Damien's face in hues of blue and crimson. Across from him, a digital screen rotated slowly—projecting confidential files, encrypted blueprints, and unfamiliar sigils.
"This came in last night," Agent Callen said, sliding a file across the table. "Intercepted transmission. Origin: Zurich. Destination: Offshore relay node… owned by the Argon Consortium."
Damien picked up the file. It bore no insignia, only a red-inked phrase across the top: Protocol: Bloodline – Phase One.
"Read the second page," Callen muttered.
Damien flipped it over—and stilled.
Target: Nora Voss. Status: Primary. Classification: Legacy Genome.
Secondary Asset: Damien Lancaster. Status: Guardian. Known Threat. Engage with Caution.
His grip tightened. "They're already moving."
"Yes," Callen said grimly. "And from what we've learned, the Bloodline Protocol isn't about control. It's about annihilation. They're eliminating anyone with ties to elite genetic lines who rejected Genesis."
Damien's jaw clenched. "They want to rewrite evolution. Without resistance."
Meanwhile, at the Silverbridge Estate, Nora stood in the private greenhouse her mother once cultivated. It was now a sanctuary—where her mind sought refuge from chaos. Rows of rare herbs and blossoms rustled softly as she clipped fresh leaves into a basket.
Her phone buzzed.
Incoming call: Damien.
"Hey," she answered, voice light. "You're coming back for lunch?"
"Nora, listen carefully," Damien said, his voice sharp. "We've been flagged. The Argon Consortium has initiated the Bloodline Protocol. You're their primary target."
The smile vanished from her face. "What… What does that mean?"
"They want you gone. Not controlled. Eliminated. You carry legacy DNA from your mother's side—a line they believe interferes with synthetic genome compatibility."
Nora went still. "So, they're trying to purify power. Make it… programmable?"
"Yes. Elias warned us, but this confirms it."
She didn't tremble—she never did. "Then it's time we go to them. End this before they reach us."
"No," Damien said firmly. "This time we play smarter. We draw them out. And we finish what Genesis began—only now, on our terms."
---
By dusk, the estate had transformed into a fortress. Hidden defense grids activated. Surveillance widened across borders. Nora stood beside Elias and Damien in the control wing.
A holographic map displayed blinking red markers—each one a recent assassination linked to the Protocol. Prominent figures in genetics, ancient families, financial titans—gone within weeks.
"They're erasing bloodlines like brushstrokes," Elias said. "But they've overlooked something."
"What's that?" Nora asked.
He turned to her with a glimmer of resolve. "You."
Nora blinked. "Me?"
"You're the anomaly they can't replicate. Your healing capabilities, your cognitive resilience—Genesis failed to mirror them because they weren't results of engineering. They were earned. From generations that survived, adapted… endured."
Damien stepped closer. "Which makes you their greatest threat."
A silence stretched between them.
Nora raised her chin. "Then I'll make them remember me."
Suddenly, an alert flashed on the screen—Unauthorized access detected. Perimeter breach. East quadrant.
Damien's hand went to his holster. "They're here."
"Engage defensive countermeasures," Nora commanded, voice cold.
Sirens blared. Shutters slammed down. And just beyond the estate walls, dark-suited operatives moved like phantoms through the woods—silent, lethal, and fast.
But Nora was faster.
She emerged onto the upper balcony, a concealed rifle slung over her shoulder. Her breath was steady, her vision clear. As two agents broke from the tree line, she fired once—twice.
Direct hits.
Inside, Damien took the west wing. His training from covert military operations kicked in as he disarmed three intruders using a mix of calculated shots and close combat.
"You alright?" he asked Nora through his comm.
"Still standing," she replied.
Ten minutes later, it was over.
Five bodies. Zero survivors. No ID.
"They left nothing," Elias said as they regrouped. "No trace. Just like ghost units."
Nora knelt beside one of the attackers. Her fingers ran across a faint mark on the man's wrist—barely visible under the skin.
"Look," she said. "The tattoo. Argon's symbol… mixed with Roman numerals."
Damien leaned in. "Code?"
"Coordinates," she murmured. "And a date."
Elias's eyes narrowed. "That's two days from now."
Nora stood slowly. "They're planning something. Something big."
Damien took her hand, lacing their fingers. "Then we'll be ready."
But deep in the shadows of another continent, behind encrypted networks and private islands, the Argon Consortium convened—and a woman in a velvet dress watched their footage from the failed Silverbridge breach.
"Interesting," she purred. "The girl survives again. Let's see how long that lasts."