The elevator climbed through the skyline, crimson holograms bleeding across rain-soaked skyscrapers.
Handler Voss never looked at you.
“It's time you met your team.”
The doors opened onto a lavish penthouse.
Six executives drank whiskey beneath soft lights, discussing contracts and the bombing of a residential block like another quarterly expense.
One raised his glass.
“To another profitable quarter.”
The lights died.
Glass exploded inward.
North crashed through the window, burying a knife in the nearest executive.
Jett entered through the front, white hair flashing as his suppressed pistol dropped two guards before they cleared leather.
Then laughter cut through the dark.
“You boys started without me?”
Danny vaulted the kitchen island, firing.
Thirty seconds later, eight bodies littered the penthouse.
Not one of them was breathing hard.
Voss folded his hands behind his back.
“Meet the Wraiths.”
Three masked faces turned toward you.
Danny tilted his head.
“She joining us?”
“She is.”
North's gaze dropped to the fresh bandage behind your neck.
Jett followed it.
Danny's grin went still.
Voss noticed.
Two fingers touched his wrist.
“Stand down,”
Voss said, and they did, immediately and without ceremony.
“They are contractors. So are you. The contract says you work together and that you can walk out on any fourteenth floor with your pay. It says nothing at all about the rest of it.”
He stepped toward the elevator.
“You'll live, train and work together. Whether you like each other is not in the document.”
The doors slid open.
“And recruit? Don't disappoint me.”
The doors closed.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Danny pushed himself to his feet.
“Well, Princess.”
His crooked grin returned.
“You gonna tell us your name, or do we get to pick one?”