Age 19 — DomiTech Headquarters, Port Victory
Three Months After Yevgeny's Death
The briefing room was cold, sterile, and empty except for Netoshka and Lucretia.
Lucretia slid a tablet across the table. Satellite imagery. A small island in the northern sea, ringed by jagged rocks and perpetual fog. No name on any public map. No shipping lanes nearby. No flight paths overhead.
"Nadezhdivya-12," Lucretia said. "Synarchy blacksite. Primary research and storage facility for the DK-Ultra program. Hundreds of sleepers are stored there. Cryogenic tanks. Neural conditioning labs. Everything Kersnik needs to activate his army."
Netoshka studied the image. "What's the mission?"
"Infiltrate. Disable the activation system. Free any prisoners if possible. Destroy the facility if not." Lucretia paused. "You'll have a support team. Eight operatives. They're good, but they're backups. The real work is yours."
Netoshka nodded. "When do we leave?"
"Now."
───
The Team
The transport plane flew north through a sky full of stars.
Eight DomiTech operatives sat in the cargo hold, their faces interchangeable—professionals in black tactical gear, helmets hiding their features. Netoshka didn't bother learning their names. They were here to provide firepower, to watch her back, to extract her if things went wrong. They weren't friends. They weren't squad.
She didn't want friends.
The team leader, a woman with cold eyes and a scarred jaw, introduced herself simply as Captain Orlova. "We secure the perimeter, you handle the objective. Any questions?"
Netoshka shook her head.
The plane flew on.
───
The Island — Nadezhdivya-12
The drop was cold and fast.
The transport hovered above the frozen sea, cargo doors open to a blast of arctic air. The island below was a dark shape against grey water, its structures barely visible through falling snow.
Netoshka jumped. Behind her, the eight operatives followed—dark silhouettes against the white.
She landed hard, rolled, came up with her rifle ready. Snow drifted across the rocky beach. The facility entrance was a steel door set into the base of a cliff, lit by a single flickering floodlight.
Captain Orlova gathered her team.
"Breach in thirty seconds."
Netoshka moved to the door. The operatives flanked her, weapons raised.
The breach was clean. Explosives blew the lock. They moved inside.
───
The Facility
The corridors were white and sterile, lit by emergency lights that flickered with a sickly pulse. The air was cold and dry, recycled too many times. The walls were bare—no signs, no markings, no indication of what this place contained.
But Netoshka could feel them.
The sleepers.
Hundreds of them. Buried in the rock, suspended in cryogenic tanks, waiting to wake up and kill. Their psychic presence was a low hum at the edge of her awareness—distant, muffled, but unmistakable.
"Control room is two levels down," Captain Orlova said, consulting a tablet. "We'll secure the corridor. You find the activation system."
Netoshka moved ahead.
The operatives fanned out, clearing intersections, securing doors. Gunfire echoed somewhere in the distance—automated defenses, maybe, or guards. She didn't stop. The mission was all that mattered.
She reached the cryogenic chamber.
───
The Cryogenic Chamber
It was a vast cavern, carved from the island's rock, lined with row after row of cryogenic tanks. Each tank was a glass cylinder filled with pale blue fluid, a human figure suspended within. Men. Women. Some so young they couldn't have been more than fifteen. All waiting. All dreaming. All ready to be activated.
Netoshka walked between the rows, the hum of the sleepers growing louder in her mind.
She almost missed him.
He was in a smaller chamber off the main cavern—a holding cell, not a cryo tank. The door was locked, but the glass was scratched and filthy. Inside, a figure sat on a concrete floor, hunched over, his back against the wall.
He was short—barely five feet—and thin, his body bearing the marks of years of abuse. His left hand was twisted, the fingers bent at odd angles. His clothes were rags. His face was gaunt, weathered, older than his years.
But his eyes.
Netoshka knew those eyes.
Jer.
She broke the lock.
He looked up, blinking, not understanding. Then recognition dawned.
"Neto," he whispered. His voice was rough, worn, barely audible.
Netoshka knelt beside him.
"Oh my god, What are you doing here?"
"Synarchy. They took me years ago. After the war. I was... useful. They wanted information about you." He coughed, a deep, wet sound. "I didn't tell them anything."
She helped him to his feet. He swayed, leaning on her, his weight almost nothing.
"We're getting you out."
He shook his head.
"I can't walk. My leg—"
She pulled his arm over her shoulder.
"You don't have to walk. You just have to hold on."
───
The Escape
Captain Orlova's voice crackled in her earpiece.
"Agent, we've located the activation system. It's automated. We can't stop it. The Burst is scheduled for—" A pause. "—twelve minutes."
Netoshka's blood went cold.
"What's the Burst?"
"A psychic wave. It activates every sleeper in the facility. Turns them into weapons. The energy release will also collapse the island's infrastructure." Orlova's voice was grim. "We need to evacuate. Now."
Netoshka looked at Jer. He was pale, barely conscious.
"I have a prisoner. Priority extraction."
"We'll rendezvous at the eastern beach. Eight minutes."
Netoshka moved.
Jer was heavier than he looked, but she half-carried him through the corridors, following the emergency markers toward the exit. Behind her, the facility groaned—alarms, distant explosions, the sounds of the DomiTech operatives fighting their way out.
00:07:22.
They reached a maintenance tunnel. The ceiling was low, the walls dripping with condensation. Jer stumbled, nearly fell. She caught him, pulled him forward.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't—"
"Save your strength."
00:04:15.
They emerged onto the rocky beach. Snow was falling harder now, the wind howling off the sea. The transport hovered offshore, its lights cutting through the storm.
Captain Orlova and the operatives were already aboard, reaching down, pulling people up.
Netoshka ran toward the transport.
00:02:30.
She shoved Jer toward the rail. His twisted hand slipped. He fell back into the snow.
"Jer—!"
"I can't." His face was grey. "Go. Please."
"No."
She grabbed him, tried to lift him. He was dead weight. Her arms burned. The snow was deep.
00:01:15.
Captain Orlova shouted from the transport. "We're out of time! The Burst is coming!"
Netoshka looked at Jer. He was crying now, silent tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face.
"You saved me once," he said. "In that alley. Let me save you now."
"I'm not leaving you."
00:00:45.
"You have to." He smiled—a crooked, defiant smile, the same one from all those years ago. "Someone has to remember."
00:00:30.
The transport lifted off, its engines roaring. Captain Orlova reached down, grabbed Netoshka's arm, pulled her up.
She scrambled to the edge, reaching back—
Jer was already gone, swallowed by the snow.
00:00:15.
"JER!"
00:00:05.
The Burst hit.
───
The Wave
It was not an explosion. It was a wave—invisible, silent, wrong.
It passed through Netoshka like a blade through smoke, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. She felt herself falling. Felt the cold metal of the transport deck beneath her. Felt consciousness slipping away.
When she woke, the transport was miles from the island.
The facility was gone. Not destroyed—erased. The mountain where it had stood was now a smooth, glassy crater. Nothing remained. No sleepers. No cryogenic tanks. No prisoners.
No Jer.
Netoshka sat up, looking around.
"Jer?"
No answer.
She crawled across the deck, searching.
"JER!"
Captain Orlova caught her arm.
"He didn't make it. The Burst—"
Netoshka shook her head.
"He was right there. He was right there."
"He's gone."
Netoshka stared at the horizon.
The transport flew south.
She didn't speak again for three days.
───
The Guilt
She saw him everywhere.
In reflections. In crowds. In the dark corners of her dreams.
Aberration.
She had found him, only to lose him again. He had been held prisoner for years, waiting, surviving, hoping she would come. And when she finally did, she couldn't save him.
It was her fault.
It was always her fault.
Krovka Squad. Yevgeny. Jer.
Everyone who followed her died. Everyone who trusted her suffered. She was a curse wrapped in a weapon, and everyone she touched turned to ash.
The Voice was silent.
She was alone.
───
The Rogue
She left DomiTech without warning.
Lucretia tried to stop her.
"You're not thinking clearly—"
Netoshka walked past her.
Captain Orlova tried to reason with her.
"That man.. Jer made his choice. He knew the risks—"
Netoshka didn't answer.
She disappeared into the chaos of the civil war, moving from city to city, battlefield to battlefield. Not fighting for any side. Just fighting.
She killed Synarchy agents. She killed warlords. She killed anyone who reminded her of the people who had taken everything from her.
She didn't want allies. Allies died. Friends died. Everyone died.
She was a Aberration again.
And Aberrations walked alone.
The cycle continued.
Loss. Grief. Rage. Isolation.
Netoshka had lost everyone who ever mattered. Krovka. Yevgeny. Jer. The boy from the alley who had grown up to survive, only to die in the snow because she couldn't carry him fast enough.
She carried their memories like stones in her chest.
The war was not over. Kersnik was still alive. The sleepers were still out there somewhere, waiting to be activated.
But she was alone now.
And being alone was the only way she knew how to survive.