I recovered fairly quickly. After just two weeks, I was already walking again. I wasn't allowed outside the hospital premises, but I could take short walks around the building. A nurse was always by my side, and a guard kept watch from a distance.
It started slow, but after steady observation, I was allowed to step out for brief trips. Still, Black never left my mind.
What haunted me most wasn't the mission failure — it was how weak I was.
I went to the weapons market. Picked out anything I thought could defend me in a similar situation. Still, nothing felt like enough.
My mind kept spinning, replaying everything. Trying to find loopholes, flaws, anything I could've done differently. Maybe some way to fight back. To survive better. I knew I only made it out because he was hesitant. Because he held back.
That's the only reason I'm alive.
They didn't let me train. I was under 24/7 observation. The ICU called it "recovery." I called it a cage.
As I was browsing the store, I caught a glimpse of someone in the corner of my eye — a little girl, balled up in the street.
Everyone else seemed to ignore her. That could only mean one thing: she's a deviant.
It triggered something in me. Still, I turned away.
Ashamed? Yes. But I didn't come here to save anyone. I came for a purpose. And I'm not a good person, anyway.
My moral compass shattered years ago. I don't care about people anymore — I just want to survive. To live as decently as I can, and for that... I need to become a top agent.
But how the hell am I supposed to do that when I'm this weak?
I clenched my fists. "I wish my damn powers would activate already," I muttered through my teeth. "At least then... maybe I'd stand a chance."
Being a deviant has been a curse all my life. The one advantage to all this the one thing I don't have, powers.
"F*ck my life," I sighed, dropping my hands and kicking a nearby chair.
It flew across the room, slamming into a rack.
The store owner gasped loudly. Oops.
I let out a nervous laugh, but yeah — I got kicked out. Ended up leaving but I snagged a pocket knife on my way out.
"Hey, when you're reporting back to Dad, maybe leave this part out?" I said, glancing at the guard beside me.
He stared at me blankly, not saying a word.
Yeah, I'm f*cked.
Later, I stopped by a bakery and got some pastries and water. Gave them to the girl from earlier. She thanked me through tears, and I looked away quickly, walking off faster than before.
I can't afford a conscience. Anything I care about can and will be used against me.
I returned to the hospital, ready to change, but something felt... off.
The nurse. Was she always blonde?
I shook it off. Probably nothing.
I started to take my clothes off when she told me I had to take a new medication.
Weird. I'd just finished treatment.
I turned to the guard to signal that something wasn't right — but he wasn't there.
Before I could process it, she lunged at me.
I ducked, grabbed the bed sheets, and threw them over her, wrapping her up. Then I kicked her — hard — out the window.
It shattered completely. My stomach throbbed. I wasn't healed yet. The bandages turned red with fresh blood.
I looked down at them, then quickly covered them again.
Seeing it made it hurt more.
A knife came flying at me. I dodged, but it grazed my cheek and sliced through part of my ear. Blood trickled down my neck.
She jumped in again, hurling three more knives.
"What the actual—?"
I ducked, ran, slammed the door shut behind me.
I sprinted down the hall, rounded the corner, and slammed the emergency button before tearing down the stairs.
BANG.
She broke through the door.
As I ran, I looked back to vague the distance.
She was right there, face inches from mine.
In shock, I twisted my ankle and tumbled down the stairs.
She raised an axe — one she summoned out of thin air — ready to slice me in two.
The stairs shifted suddenly and slammed her into the wall.
Dust exploded everywhere.
When it cleared — I saw Mara.
Backup had arrived.
I let out a sigh of relief just as other agents stormed in.
Everything blurred after that. I was carried away, barely conscious.
In the car to HQ, I noticed someone sitting across from me — watching.
Then I blacked out.
When I woke up, I was in a small room.
A man stood beside me.
"Number 9," he said flatly, "you just can't seem to stay out of trouble."
I stared at him in silence.
I knew who he was.
Number 2. Second-in-command of the ICU.
He looked at me like I was nothing. Not angry. Not disappointed. Just... empty.
"You still haven't activated your powers?" he said. "You're incompetent and weak. You messed up your first mission, left your weapons behind, allowed them to be traced to us. And now, you put the hospital at risk because you failed to report something suspicious."
"If you can't hold your own against whatever that thing was... what are you even good for?"
"You might as well just die. You've caused more harm than good."
I said nothing.
Years ago, his words might've shattered me.
But not anymore.
I know I'm useless. So his words carry no weight.
I looked up at the ceiling, still avoiding his eyes.
"I know," I said quietly.
There was a long silence.
Then I asked, "So... what now? Am I getting kicked out? Killed?"
He didn't respond at first. Then he threw a file at me.
I caught it.
"That's for you to decide," he said, and left.
I opened the file — and flinched.
Mission:
Infiltrate the government training agency.
Objective: Find Black.
Duration: Two years.
Penalty for failure: Death.