The CIA safe house in Damascus smelled of cigarette smoke and stale fear. I peered through the blinds at the bombed-out cityscape while Butcher argued with the station chief.
"You're telling me you lost a super-powered mercenary in a city the size of Denver?"
The agent—Greerson, according to his badge—wiped sweat from his brow. "Titania isn't some rookie. She's ghosted our surveillance three times since arriving. Last sighting was here." He pointed to a map spread across the table. "Al-Zahra district. Heavy ISIS presence."
Annie, back in New York, spoke through my earpiece: "Satellite heat signatures show unusual activity at these coordinates." A location pinged on the tablet Frenchie held.
"That's a hospital," MM noted grimly.
"Was a hospital," Greerson corrected. "ISIS turned it into a stronghold. If your girl's there, she's not doing humanitarian work."
I studied the map, overlaying Annie's intel. "She's hunting the researcher Vought lost. Question is—why there?"
Frenchie tapped at his laptop. "Because according to leaked medical files, that's where Vought was testing Compound V on prisoners. Their little secret program went sideways when ISIS took over."
"Christ," Hughie muttered. "They're experimenting on POWs now?"
"Always have been," Butcher said without looking up. "Just usually better at hiding it."
We planned the assault for 0300—human circadian rhythms at their lowest ebb. I'd go in alone, using invisibility and hypnosis to neutralize guards. The team would provide overwatch from a nearby rooftop.
"Remember," I said as we geared up, "this isn't just about killing Titania. We need to extract any prisoners and destroy whatever research Vought left behind."
Butcher handed me a pistol—useless against Titania but good for any human threats. "Try not to die, yeah? Pain in the arse replacing you."
The ruins of Damascus stretched before me as I scaled the hospital walls, my enhanced strength making the climb effortless. Through night vision goggles, I spotted four guards patrolling the rooftop. Easy targets.
I landed silently behind the first, whispering hypnotic commands before he could react. One by one, I neutralized them—no killing, just deep sleep commands and memory erasure. Their rifles clattered to the ground as they slumped.
"Roof clear," I reported.
"Movement fourth floor west wing," Frenchie responded. "Multiple heat signatures. One... very large."
Titania.
I descended through a shattered skylight, the scent of antiseptic and decay thick in the air. The hospital was a nightmare—bloodstained floors, makeshift cells, surgical equipment crusted with substances I didn't want to identify.
Then I heard screaming.
The voice was male, ragged with pain. I followed it to an operating theater where a muscular woman in tactical gear stood over a strapped-down prisoner. Titania.
Up close, she was even more intimidating—six feet of corded muscle, her blonde hair pulled into a tight braid, her movements efficient and brutal as she worked a scalpel along the prisoner's abdomen.
"Where is the research?" she demanded in accented English. "The files on Compound V?"
The man—the researcher, presumably—gasped something in Arabic. Titania backhanded him hard enough to crack teeth.
I stepped out of invisibility. "That's enough."
She spun, the scalpel flashing toward my throat with terrifying speed. I barely dodged, feeling the blade graze my carotid.
"Who the fuck are you?" she snarled.
"The guy stopping you from murdering an unarmed man."
Her laugh was harsh. "He's not a man. He's a terrorist. And he's going to tell me what he did with Vought's property."
The researcher whimpered. "I... I hid it. To protect them. The children—"
Titania raised the scalpel again. I hit her with a telepathic probe before she could strike. Her mental defenses were formidable—military discipline layered with something else. Indoctrination? Training?
But not strong enough.
"Sleep," I commanded, layering the word with hypnotic force.
She staggered, shaking her head like a dog dispelling water. "Mental powers? Cute trick." Then she was on me, fists flying with the force of artillery shells.
We crashed through the operating table, the researcher scrambling away as we traded blows. Titania fought with the precision of a trained killer—every strike aimed at vitals, every movement conserving energy. My enhanced strength matched hers, but her technique was superior.
A knee to my ribs cracked bone. An elbow to my temple made stars explode across my vision. I retaliated with an electrical blast that made her muscles seize, following up with a telekinetic slam that sent her through the wall.
She came up spitting blood and grinning. "Now this is a fight."
"Alex, status?" Annie's voice in my ear.
"Busy," I grunted, barely dodging a haymaker that shattered concrete.
I needed to end this. Now. With a thought, I summoned every ounce of hypnotic power I possessed and locked eyes with Titania.
"STOP."
The command hit her like a freight train. Her body locked up, muscles straining against the compulsion. Sweat broke out across her forehead as she fought it.
"Who... who are you?" she gasped.
"The future." I stepped closer, maintaining eye contact. "You've done terrible things, Titania. For Vought, for money, for the thrill of it. But today? Today you're going to do something good."
Her pupils dilated as my power overwhelmed her defenses. "What... do you... want?"
"First, you're going to tell me where the prisoners are. Then you're going to help me get them out. And then..." I hesitated. Killing her would give me her strength, her durability, her combat skills. But looking at her—at the scars and the haunted eyes—I saw someone as much victim as villain.
"And then?" she whispered.
"Then you're going to walk away. Disappear. Because if I ever see you again, I won't be so merciful."
Her mouth worked silently for a moment before the words came: "Children... basement... they..."
The researcher, now cowering in a corner, nodded frantically. "I hid them! When ISIS came... the test subjects... they're just children!"
Ice flooded my veins. "Show me."