Location; Geneva, Switzerland – Argon Consortium Safehouse
A jazz record played softly in the background, its smooth notes echoing off the marbled walls of the secluded penthouse. In the center of the room, under the dim glow of a gold chandelier, stood a woman draped in a velvet burgundy dress, her heels tapping softly as she swayed with a wine glass in hand.
She watched the screen replay footage of the failed breach on the Silverbridge Estate, her expression unreadable.
"Five of our best," a voice said from behind her. "Neutralized in under ten minutes."
"Impressive," the woman replied, her accent fluid and refined. "But predictable. Lancaster was trained by the elite. And the girl… she's an artist of chaos."
The man behind her, Agent Voren, stepped forward. "Orders, ma'am?"
The woman's crimson lips curled. "Send word to Unit 9. We're accelerating the timeline. Nora Voss dies within the week."
---
Back in Tavara, the Silverbridge Estate remained under high alert. Damien sat across from Elias in the war room, studying the decoded intel Nora had pulled from the tattooed operative.
"These coordinates," Elias pointed out, "lead to a defunct biotech lab in northern France—one of Argon's ghost sites."
"Could be a trap," Damien said. "Or their next launch point."
Nora entered, dressed in black tactical gear, her long hair tied tightly behind her. "If it's a trap, then let's spring it."
Elias raised a brow. "You're volunteering to walk into Argon territory?"
"I'm not volunteering," she replied coolly. "I'm asserting dominance."
Damien gave her a look. "We do this smart. In and out. No hero plays."
She smirked. "No promises."
---
Two nights later, under a new moon, Damien and Nora landed in rural northern France by private jet. The surrounding area was dense woodland and abandoned rail lines—perfect for clandestine operations.
They moved like shadows, dressed in black, their comms synced.
"East perimeter clear," Damien whispered.
"North clear," Nora responded. "Thermal's picking up three heat signatures inside the lab."
"Go silent from here."
They breached the entrance with precision, disabling alarms and quietly subduing two guards. Inside, the laboratory looked like a scene frozen in time—old tech, faded dossiers, shattered glass. But there was movement deeper in.
Nora held her breath as she turned the corner—
And came face-to-face with her reflection.
No, not a mirror.
A woman.
Tall. Elegant. Burgundy velvet dress. The same woman from the footage.
"Well," she purred, tilting her head, "you're even prettier up close."
Nora aimed. "Hands where I can see them."
But the woman only smiled, completely unafraid. "You don't know who I am, do you?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Oh, but it does," the woman said, stepping into the light. Her features were refined, her aura intoxicating—yet dangerous. "I'm your aunt, darling."
Nora stiffened. "Liar."
"I was exiled from your mother's side long before you were born. They feared my... methods." She walked in a slow circle around Nora. "You inherited her precision. But your spark? That's all me."
Damien's voice came through Nora's earpiece. "Stand down. She's baiting you."
But Nora's gaze never wavered. "Why show yourself now?"
"Because you're the last piece of a puzzle I've been crafting for twenty years," the woman replied. "Join me, and we'll redefine the world's legacy. Decline… and you'll die like your parents were supposed to."
The words hit like ice.
"You were behind the explosion in Prague?" Nora whispered.
The woman didn't deny it. "Your mother always played too fair."
Nora's fingers tightened on the trigger. "And I don't."
She fired.
But the woman moved with inhuman speed, vanishing behind a metal door that slammed shut. Alarms blared. A countdown began.
Self-destruct sequence initiated: 90 seconds.
Damien found her in the hallway seconds later. "We're not dying here. Let's go!"
They ran through twisting corridors, flames erupting behind them, until they reached the emergency hatch.
They dove out just as the facility exploded behind them—sending a column of fire into the night sky.
---
Later, in the jet back to Tavara, Nora sat in silence, staring out the window. Damien sat beside her, a comforting hand over hers.
"She was telling the truth," Nora said finally. "Her blood… it felt familiar."
"We'll find out more," Damien promised. "But first, we heal. Then we strike back."
"She's not just an assassin, Damien. She's family. And she's not done."
"No," Damien agreed. "But neither are we."