Manhattan — Lower East Side
03:17 AM
The streets were quiet. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl.
Too quiet.
You moved between pools of shadow, your coat flaring with each controlled stride. Raze followed, steps muffled despite his frame. His senses were different from yours — more feral, tuned to blood and aggression — but he respected your focus. For now.
Your target lived above a shuttered antique shop, on the third floor, west-facing window cracked open just enough for airflow.
Kyra Vale.
Information broker. Former SHIELD surveillance operative. And now, a freelancer deep in Pentor's pocket.
You didn't know if she was working with him willingly or not.
But you were about to find out.
"Remember", you said, pausing in the alley across the street, "non-lethal. We need her talking, not bleeding."
Raze smirked, baring sharp teeth. "Define 'non-lethal'."
You narrowed your eyes.
"I mean, don't kill her."
He grunted, disappointed.
Then you moved.
You darted across the street and launched yourself off a fire hydrant, grabbing the rusted fire escape ladder and climbing three stories in seconds. Raze took the direct route, leaping between walls like an animal, landing beside you just as you reached the window.
Inside, the apartment was dark.
But you could hear soft breathing.
Controlled. Rhythmic.
Not asleep.
She knew.
You pushed the window open without a sound, slipped inside, and crouched low. Raze followed. The air smelt faintly of ionised copper and gun oil.
Classic SHIELD residue.
A shape moved behind the fridge.
You activated adaptive perception. The world slowed — angles sharpened — and for a split second, her outline flickered against the wall.
She was holding a compact stun pistol and wearing some kind of chameleon-cloth cloak. Smart tech, rare on the black market.
You moved.
Fast.
She was fired.
You twisted, shoulder catching the edge of the bolt — nerves spasming — but your body immediately adjusted. Muscles tightened, skin dampened the electric surge, and your grip found her wrist.
Disarm.
Sweep.
Pin.
She was on the ground in four seconds, staring up at you with narrowed eyes and a thin line of blood trailing from her split lip.
"Cute," she muttered. "You learn fast."
Raze chuckled. "I told you he was special."
You pressed your knee against her chest.
"I'm not here to hurt you, Kyra. Just need a name."
"Try Google," she spat.
You didn't flinch. "Pentor. Where is he?"
That got her attention.
Her expression tightened.
"You're hunting Pentor?" she asked. "Are you suicidal or just stupid?"
"Neither," you replied. "But he's been watching me. Tracking my every adaptation. Running simulations. You're the only connection that isn't encrypted to hell. So I'm asking nicely."
She snorted. "And if I don't give it up?"
You leaned closer.
"Then I stay. And you won't sleep again until you do."
For a moment, her bravado held.
Then it cracked.
She sighed.
"He's not here. He doesn't stay in one place. He uses relays, proxies, and digital ghosts. The moment he thinks you're close, he torches the whole line."
You nodded. "Then what's your job?"
"I move the pieces. Couriers. Packet shifters. I don't touch the core data, but I know where it passes through."
You glanced at Raze, who gave a subtle shrug.
She was telling the truth. Or enough of it.
"Then give me the next pass."
Kyra hesitated. "You want a location?"
"No," you said. "I want the next server. The one that bounces to him."
She hesitated again.
Then she pulled a small drive from her boot and tossed it onto the floor beside you.
"There. Data ghost. It's incomplete — by design. But if you can fill in the gaps, it'll give you the path."
You released her.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her wrist.
"You're lucky," she muttered. "Most guys like you don't live long enough to threaten people like Pentor."
You stood. "Then I'll have to be the exception."
As you turned to leave, she called out.
"Wait."
You paused.
Kyra looked up at you, something unreadable in her gaze.
"He's not just trying to kill you. He's trying to replicate you."
Your blood chilled.
"What?"
"Pentor isn't just mapping your abilities. He's trying to synthesise them. Clone the process. Copy your mimicry patterns. He thinks if he cracks your 'code', he can inject it into others."
You stared at her.
"How far has he got?"
She hesitated.
"Too far."
One Hour Later—Safehouse
The drive was encrypted with at least seven firewalls. Advanced stuff — likely a mixture of Wakandan bypass tech and stolen Stark architecture. But your mind had adapted to complex neural decryption days ago. The longer you stared, the more your brain aligned with the logic patterns. It was like solving a puzzle with half the pieces already memorised.
Raze kept watch, arms crossed, eyes on the small street-level monitor.
After two hours, the screen blinked.
ACCESS GRANTED
You exhaled.
Then the map loaded.
It was a digital tunnel — servers routing through international cables, satellite nodes, and dark-web caches.
And at the end?
A single name.
BLACK VAULT: LV-426 – Greenland
You frowned.
That wasn't just a server location.
It was a facility.
Buried.
Hidden.
Cold.
Your skin rippled involuntarily.
"Found him?" Raze asked.
"Maybe. I think he's in Greenland. Or at least, his main relay is."
Raze grunted. "Then let's go freeze our asses off."
But something inside you hesitated.
Not from fear.
From something deeper.
Your adaptations were becoming more... instinctive. You could sense danger before it arrived. Your nerves twitched in warning.
Pentor wouldn't be alone.
He wouldn't just rely on machines.
He'd have prototypes.
Failed ones.
Half-complete experiments based on you.
And those?
Those could be unpredictable.
But you couldn't wait any longer.
If he cracked your power and duplicated it, the consequences would be catastrophic.
You stood.
"We leave at dawn."
Raze smiled wickedly.
"About time."
Elsewhere — Deep Underground
Pentor stood in a sterilised chamber, surrounded by surgical lights and humming consoles.
Across from him, inside a reinforced tank, floated a humanoid shape.
Unformed.
Shifting.
Its skin constantly flickered — mimicking random energies, unstable, twitching in bursts.
It let out a low, ragged snarl.
Pentor adjusted a dial.
The thing froze.
"Soon," he whispered. "Soon we won't need to chase you anymore."
He tapped the glass gently.
"Because we'll become you."