Byte, as he insisted on being called, was the kind of guy who looked like he spent gmost of his life inside, probably with a collection of comic books and computer screens. Tall, lanky, with thick glasses and a sweater that had a keyboard on it, Byte was every bit the "tech nerd" you'd imagine running logistics. But he was sharp. Byte was her central resource for the mission, and while his social skills might be lacking, his expertise certainly wasn't.
"I'll be your eyes and ears out there," he'd said during their briefing, tapping on his laptop with rapid precision. "From maps to intel on enemies, I've got you covered. And if things go sideways, I'll help you improvise. You'll get real-time updates on the terrain, incoming threats, and any unexpected obstacles. Don't worry. I'm basically your guardian angel... except with way more bandwidth."
She wasn't sure if she found him annoying or comforting yet. Probably both. Byte would be guiding her from mission control, which he referred to as the "hub," a room full of people watching multiple screens, feeding agents on the ground everything from enemy locations to weather updates. In theory, Byte was supposed to keep her safe, but his enthusiasm was a little disconcerting, especially when he grinned after explaining the tiny devices they were installing in her ear and eye—so he could see and hear everything she did.
"Think of it as Google Maps, but, you know, for life-threatening situations," he quipped. "And I'll be there to tell you when to take a left or when a bunch of goons with guns are around the corner."
Great.
———————————————————————————————
The week before her mission was a blur of pain, bruises, and endless trips to the doctor. Her speed had hit 40 km/h, which sounded impressive on paper, but it didn't feel so great when she still ended up getting hurt all the time. Each training session was like a one-way ticket to "Doc's office," a place that felt like her second home now.
On the first trip to the doctor that day, she limped in with what felt like a fractured rib. Not that she could tell anymore—everything hurt, everywhere. The doctor, who never even flinched at her injuries anymore, patched her up like a well-worn race car. "Just a little bruising," the doctor said casually, as if that would make her feel better.
Two hours later, after another intense sparring session, she was back in the lab with a split lip and a nasty cut above her eyebrow, courtesy of one of the staring crew. They didn't have any special powers like her, but they sure knew how to throw a punch. She managed to take most of them down during the fight, which felt like a small victory, but they definitely didn't go easy on her. That, of course, earned her trip number two to "Doc's."
By late afternoon, after pushing her body to its limits in the final speed trial, she found herself making her third visit. Her legs felt like jelly, and her left knee had given out after hitting that 40 km/h mark. "You're not a car, you know," the doctor sighed, injecting something into her leg that instantly took away the pain. "Stop acting like one."
With only one week left until her first mission, everything was ramping up. The physical toll was starting to show, but she could at least take pride in one thing: she had finally beaten the staring crew. Not that they were talking to her anymore, but that wasn't exactly a loss. The doctor assured her she was healing faster than anyone they'd seen, which was both comforting and a bit terrifying. What would her body endure on the actual mission if this was just training?
———————————————————————————————
Her first mission wasn't exactly the high-octane, gun-slinging adventure she had anticipated. No terrorist takedowns, no elite enemy forces waiting for her around every corner. Instead, she was assigned something a bit more…underwhelming—or so she thought. It was just a research mission, which sounded about as thrilling as watching paint dry. But the location? Now, that was something right out of a nightmare.
The target was Cawer Castle, a crumbling, ancient structure that had all the hallmarks of a place you wouldn't want to visit on a dare. On the internet, it was famous for bizarre conspiracy theories, ranging from satanic rituals to occult gatherings. The rumors were wild, but they weren't the kind you could just laugh off. People whispered about strange disappearances, especially women who had reportedly vanished right near its doors. And, of course, no one had ever found them. You couldn't find a better setup for a horror movie if you tried.
She wasn't exactly thrilled to be sent there. "Just an investigation," they said, as if walking into a place known for creepy disappearances was no big deal. The castle was supposedly abandoned, a decaying relic sitting on private property that no one had lived in for years. According to the higher-ups, it was a simple recon job—just go in, check it out, and see if there was anything unusual. But the word "unusual" didn't exactly sit well with her. Unusual could mean anything. Were they expecting ghosts, cultists, or maybe something worse?
As she packed her gear, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that was crawling up her spine. For all the vague reassurances that it was "just research," they'd been remarkably tight-lipped about what they were really looking for. She had asked questions, lots of them—like why exactly this place? What were they hoping to find there? And what kind of "research" were they expecting her to conduct in a building known for occult lore? But all her questions were met with the same frustrating silence or a dismissive wave of the hand.
"Just get in, get out. It's simple."
Sure, because walking into a decrepit castle that could be haunted by who-knows-what was totally normal. She could practically hear the mission debrief in her head already: "Congratulations! You've just entered your first Scooby-Doo episode. Good luck with that."
But as much as she wanted to brush off her concerns with sarcasm, something about the mission just didn't sit right with her. It wasn't just the creepy legends or the eerie setting—it was the way everyone around her acted. They seemed too calm about it, too nonchalant. As if the mission wasn't the potential disaster it appeared to be. And that's what made her nervous. No one wanted to give her straight answers, and if there was one thing she had learned in her time here, it was that silence usually meant something was lurking beneath the surface. Something they didn't want her to know—at least, not yet.