No mirrors in the desert.
No reflections in the dust.
Only shadows dancing under fluorescent light—
teeth bared, claws drawn,
dogs turned loose in the sand
to tear each other apart.

Cici reaches Utah before dawn.

The sky over the salt flats is a colorless bruise, and the air smells like copper and ozone. She's layered in dust, her brown leather jacket stiff from sweat and weather, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses even though the sun hasn't yet broken the horizon.

Val's file burns in her pocket.

A name. A face.

Carl "Gauntlet" Lucas.
A minor weapon for hire. Low-tier. Disposable. Specialized in energy gloves that projected brute force. Too flashy to be quiet. Too loud to be trusted.

Another dog on a leash.

Just like her.

Val said he was trying to steal something. That he'd gone rogue. That he was planning to go public. The lie came laced in sugar, kill him and you're free.

Cici knows better than to believe in freedom.

But she wants to.

And sometimes, wanting is all it takes to doom yourself.

The OXE Compound waits in the dead center of nowhere.

Miles of dry earth and red rock surrounding a concrete monolith swallowed by the horizon. No guards visible. No gates. No birds in the sky. Just an access pad hidden behind a rusted control panel at the base of the structure, blinking green like it's been waiting for her.

She presses her thumb to the scanner.

The door opens.

The elevator groans beneath her boots as it descends into the earth, one mile down, according to the blinking red readout. One mile into a place never meant to be seen by daylight.

The hum of machinery fills the shaft.

Cici doesn't breathe.

She can smell it already.

Smoke. Ash. Gun oil.

Death.

The central chamber is vast.

Wider than any room she's ever seen underground, circular and echoing, lined with endless racks of files and sealed crates. The walls are metal. The floors are concrete. No windows. No exits.

Only vents above, thick, industrial things that snake across the ceiling like arteries. Meant for gas, she realizes. Or fire. Or smoke.

Or ash.

A crematorium in disguise.

Cici's boots echo as she steps forward.

Every cell in her body is alert.

She is not alone.

She sees him first.

Gauntlet.

He's tall. Square-jawed. His gauntlets glow dimly, pulses of orange light flexing across his knuckles. He's pacing like a man who knows he's either predator or prey.

Then he sees her.

Smirks.

"You're late."

Cici doesn't speak.

Just takes three steps forward, eyes narrowing.

He spreads his arms.

"Val said you'd come."

Cici freezes.

"What?"

He grins, "She sent me your name. Just like I'm guessing she sent you mine."

The realization slams into her chest like a truck.

She sent us to kill each other.

But it's already too late.

Gauntlet lunges.

He's fast.

Faster than she expects.

His first punch rips a shelf in half, sending paper and glass flying.

She dodges left, dives under his swing, grabs the back of his belt and uses his own momentum to throw him into a wall. He grunts, crashes shoulder-first into a metal cabinet, but recovers with terrifying speed.

She ducks.

Another punch.

The floor cracks.

She drives her knee into his ribs. He snarls, brings his fist up to--

But she's faster.

She lunges in.

Bites.

Her teeth tear into the soft flesh between his neck and shoulder.

He screams.

She pulls back, mouth bloodied.

She takes the knife from her boot.

One strike.

One movement.

Clean.

Up under the ribs.

Into the lung.

Then the heart.

He dies choking on red.

A twitching heap on the floor.

She staggers back.

Her breath catches.

She did it.

She did it.

She collapses into the corner, crouched like a cornered animal, blood dripping from her mouth and knuckles.

She did her job.

She should be free.

But the room isn't empty.

The room is screaming.

To her left, Ghost fades into view, flickering like a glitch in reality, a blur of silver and vengeance. She fires a shot at a shadow moving across the far side of the room--

The bullet clips Taskmaster's shoulder.

She's in motion before it lands. Spinning, sword drawn, leaping off a toppled crate to bring the blade down across--

John Walker blocks it with his shield, boots skidding across the concrete.

He grits his teeth.

He swings.

Taskmaster ducks.

To the right, Yelena grunts, shoving a crate aside and launching herself toward Ghost with a baton in hand.

Steel clashes with steel.

Bones break.

The room becomes a war zone.

Cici can't move.

She's curled against a metal crate, trembling, hands pressed to her ears like they can block out the violence.

She thought she was the only one.

But she wasn't.

They're all here.

All of Valentina's dogs.

Thrown into the pit together.

One last match.

Let the ashes clean the record.

She doesn't scream.

She doesn't cry.

She shakes.

Because she knows, now.

This was never a mission. This was an execution.

The fight ends in a breath.

A bullet cracks the silence.

Cici flinches.

Looks up.

And sees Taskmaster fall.

A clean hole through the forehead.

Smoke curling from the barrel of Ghost's pistol.

The room goes silent.

Walker steps back.

Yelena lowers her baton.

Ghost lowers the gun.

Cici stays where she is.

Knees pulled to her chest.

Blood dried on her face.

Eyes wide.

She did what she was told.

She killed the target.

She should feel something.

Relief.

Freedom.

Anything.

But all she feels is the cage slamming shut again.

They all look at her.

No one speaks.

The silence after slaughter is different from other silences.
It rings.
It hangs in the air like smoke that forgot how to dissipate.
And in that silence, four ghosts remain—
each one bloodied, each one betrayed,
each one still breathing when they weren't supposed to be.
And then comes Bob.

They stand in the room of the dead and the dying, surrounded by overturned crates and smoldering tension. The air is heavy with sweat and gunpowder. The metal vents above hum faintly, waiting for instruction, like hounds licking their lips for the next signal to feast.

Cici stays curled in the corner, her back to the cold steel wall, hands trembling in her lap. Her nails are cracked, dried blood under every one. She has stopped crying. Or maybe she never started.

The others are statues. Ghost's visor flickers. Yelena's baton is still warm in her hand. John Walker breathes like a man ready to detonate.

And then--

A rustle.

From one of the crates near the center of the room. A box that hadn't been opened, marked with an OXE serial and a faded sticker reading ARCHIVE // DO NOT TOUCH.

The box wobbles.

Then tips.

Crashes open.

And out rolls a man.

He's wearing gray pajama pants. A soft top that looks slept in. His hair is dark, curly, tousled like he's just woken from a nap and hasn't yet realized the world is on fire. His eyes blink at the light.

He sits up slowly, arms stretched out, and mutters, "Whoo... that was a hell of a nap."

The room goes still again.

All heads snap toward him.

Four weapons rise in sync, Yelena's gun, Ghost's gun, Walker's gun, and Taskmaster's discarded blade in Ghost's free hand now. All pointed directly at the man in the pajamas.

Everyone tensed, locked on target.

Everyone except Cici.

She stares at him, wide-eyed. Something about him doesn't compute. Something about him isn't real. He's like a glitch in a world that has only known violence.

The man holds up his hands. Palms open. Harmless.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," He says, "Hi. Hello. I'm Bob."

A pause.

Ghost is the first to speak, terse and cautious, "Who are you?"

Bob blinks at her, "I'm-I'm-I'm Bob. I told you. I'm, uh, yeah... Bob."

John's jaw tightens, "Jesus Christ, stop saying Bob."

Yelena steps forward slightly, eyes narrowing, "Who sent you, Bob?"

Bob smiles at first, as if it's a joke, "Nobody. Why would they send me?" then his face gets more serious," Were all of you sent?"

That lands like a slap.

Ghost lowers her gun just a fraction, "I'm not sure what's going on here, but you're all exhausting, and my job is done."

"Ah, but you see my job," Yelena snaps as she stops Ghost from leaving, gun pointed, " is watching you. So no, you're not going anywhere else."

Walker scoffs, his gun pointed at Yelena, "So you're watching her, huh? That's a pretty decent cover for someone stealing OXE's assets."

"I'm not stealing. She's stealing," Yelena says, pointing a dagger-sharp finger at Ghost.

Ghost rolls her eyes, "This is moronic."

Then her eyes flick to the corner.

"What about the girl in the fetal position?"

Cici looks up slowly.

Not dog.

Not Mad Dog.

Girl.

She feels the tiniest twitch of a smile before the moment is shattered.

"What," John mutters, "Mad Dog?"

The words land like a slap.

Cici's head snaps toward him. Her lip curls. Her shoulders rise. And in one swift, fluid movement, she stands.

Her voice is low. Animal.

"That's not my name."

Everyone tenses.

Yelena, stepping into the silence, speaks with unusual diplomacy, hands up in the air to show peace.

"Okay. It's clear we've all worked for Valentina. In some kind of shadow ops role."

"Yeah, so?" Walker asks.

"So all of this is OXE's mysteries. But so are we," Yelena says, gesturing around.

"Which makes us the unknown liabilities that no one would miss," Ghost adds.

" We're the evidence, and this--" Yelena says as she waves at the room,"--is the shredder. She wants us gone."

Walker crosses his arms, "Your theory's flawed."

Yelena raises her brows, "Oh, please. Go on."

Walker steps forward, a general giving a eulogy.

"Let's look at the facts. The infamous Ghost, a S.H.I.E.L.D. reject on the run across fifteen nations." He turns his gaze toward Cici, his voice like a scalpel, "Cecilia Spector. Better known as Mad Dog. An underground fight-ring superstar who rips people's throats out, by the way."

Cici growls low in her throat.

Walker nods toward the bloodied corpse in the corner, "Dead guy over there? Hiding in Madripoor doing God-knows-what. And that one--" he nods toward a pile of red, the girl who died quietly earlier in the fight, "--destroyed half of Budapest."

"Don't talk about that," Yelena mutters.

Walker doesn't stop, "And you--" he points at Yelena-- "a former Red Room assassin. Only God knows the blood on your hands."

Ghost cocks her head, "Pretty rich coming from a dime-store Captain America."

"I want you to know I was actually the official Captain America."

"Yeah, for like two seconds before you publicly murdered an innocent man in the street. Do I have that right?"

Walker shrugs, "Really define innocent. Look, I'm a decorated war veteran, okay? I have a loving wife and a son. Let's be honest, you guys are just cheap mercenaries. So clearly I wasn't supposed to bring you in."

That earns a laugh from both Ghost and Yelena.

A dry, bitter laugh like old paper tearing.

Cici remains silent.

But then--

Bob, "Wow. It's getting pretty tense in here."

The casual tone slices through the tension like a hot knife. Cici actually smiles. Just a twitch of the lips, but it's the most human thing she's done in days.

John scowls, "I'm not leaving here without completing my mission. Valentina gave me a clean-slate guarantee and I'm not going to blow it. But this weirdo wasn't part of the job. So I need to know, how the hell did you get in here?"

Bob scratches his head.

"I don't... know."

They all stare at him.

He smiles.

And to Cici, he doesn't seem like a threat.

He seems lost.

Just like her.

Just like all of them.

"Excellent answer," John says, voice clipped, hands on his hips like he's still wearing a flag on his chest, "Alright. Tie him up."

Cici stiffens.

Bob blinks, still seated cross-legged like a child who wandered into the wrong classroom.

"What?" He says, half-laughing, "Wait-- what? Why?"

John doesn't look at him. He looks at the others, sharp and ready, "We don't know what he is. Could be another sleeper. Could be a plant. Could be a walking bomb. I've seen weirder."

Cici snarls.

She steps forward.

Places herself between John and Bob.

"We don't know if he's bad," She growls.

John's eyes flash with something cold, "And we don't know if he's good, either. And, no offense," he adds with a smirk, "but I don't think a dog is a good judge of character."

That's it.

That's the switch.

The leash snaps.

Cici lunges.

She slams into him with full force, knocking him into a rack of metal crates. The clang rings out like a funeral bell. She grabs his collar, bares her teeth, fangs flashing, and screams--

"I'm not a dog!"

John shoves back, but she's already snarling, already breathing fire. They roll. Cici's on top. A fist cracks against his jaw.

And then--

"Hey, hey, hey!" Yelena cuts in, stepping fast, her hands out like she's trying to calm a rabid wolf, "It's okay, it's okay. Let's leave the sad, sad man alone, da? He's very sad. Probably needs a nap and some warm milk."

She hooks an arm around Cici's shoulders, pulling her off. Cici growls again, but it's lower now. Guttural. She's shaking.

John wipes blood from his mouth, muttering, "Jesus."

But no one answers him.

Because just then, Ghost takes her chance.

She steps back toward the wall. Flickers. Phases.

Or tries to.

The moment she touches the reinforced metal, her body jerks violently, her scream sharp and sudden. A sound rips through the room, high-pitched, shrill, surgical.

It slices the air like a scalpel.

Ghost crumples, hands to her skull.

Cici goes down too. The moment it hits, she drops to her knees, clawing at her ears.

The sound isn't just noise, it's invasive, like something reaching inside and scraping the walls of her skull with broken glass.

She whimpers, curling inward.

The dog's gone.

Only the girl is left now.

Bob drops to his knees beside her, awkward and unsure, hands fluttering uselessly in the air.

"Are you.. Are you okay?"

She doesn't answer.

Just rocks slightly.

The sound cuts out as suddenly as it came.

Silence falls.

The room breathes again.

Cici breathes.

Barely.

Bob hesitates, then offers a hand.

"Um... do you need help?"

Cici looks at him, truly looks.

He's not like them. Not trained. Not built. Not forged in fire or ice. He's just a man. And somehow, that makes him the most human thing she's seen in years.

She takes his hand.

Lets him pull her to her feet.

Her ears still ring.

But his touch is gentle.

And the world falls away.

She isn't in the room anymore.

There is no metal. No blood.

Only darkness.

Thick, living blackness that curls around her ankles like smoke, rising, swallowing sound and form. She blinks, trying to find shape in it, but it's not just dark. It's void. A nothingness that stretches beyond imagination.

Then--

A ripple.

A shimmer.

A memory.

She stands on the edge of the woods.

There is light here.

Gentle, golden, filtered through trees.

The air smells like pine and lake water and sunscreen.

She knows this place.

Knows it like her bones.

The lakehouse.

The summer.

The last day.

She turns, and sees herself.

Seven years old. Grass-stained knees, pink hair tie, laughter like a wind chime as she runs across the clearing.

Marc follows behind her, taller, twelve years old, smiling in that lopsided way he used to. The way that made her feel safe.

She watches them from the shadows, her adult self half-hidden behind a tree. Her heart pounds.

This is the day.

The day it all changed.

She sees the game begin.

Sees Marc cover his eyes, counting beneath the willow.

Hears herself giggle.

"Twenty-one... twenty-two..."

Child Cici darts away, curls bouncing.

Adult Cici watches her own small legs carry her too far into the woods.

Past the spot they agreed on.

Past safety.

The trees grow darker.

Thicker.

The air grows still.

Then she sees him.

The man.

Stepping from behind a tree like he was waiting there.

Like he always knew she'd come too far.

His face is wrong. Blurred at the edges, like a smudge on a photograph. But she knows him.

Knows the smell of his coat. The weight of his hand.

Child Cici freezes.

He speaks. Quiet. Persuasive.

She shakes her head.

Tries to run.

But he grabs her.

Hand over her mouth.

And--

She screams.

The vision shatters.

Light implodes.

And Cici is back.

She gasps, lungs flooding with air like she's been drowning. Her hand still grips Bob's, tight, too tight.

Her eyes fly open.

Bob's already staring at her.

His face pale. Mouth slightly open.

His eyes are wet.

And she knows.

He saw it.

He saw her.

He blinks, stunned. Like he's trying to ground himself.

Cici's voice is barely a whisper, "You pulled me in."

"I didn't mean to," He breathes.

The others in the room haven't noticed. They're too busy arguing with each other.

But the world narrows to the two of them.

To the silence between their palms.

To the moment stretched thin as spider silk between understanding and collapse.

Cici doesn't let go.

Neither does he.

She stares at him. Into him.

And for the first time in her life, someone looks back and understands.

Not the monster.

Not the dog.

Not the fighter.

But the girl who never got found.

She swallows hard, voice splintered, "What are you?"

Bob looks down, "I don't know."

She looks again.

Not at his clothes. Not at his face.

But at the air around him.

The shimmer of something wrong.

Something godlike.

And lonely.

Something like the void she was just inside.

Bob blinks rapidly. He looks like a man trying to wake up.

His words falter.

His eyes go wide, " You were so small."

Cici flinches.

Her breath shudders in her chest.

"Don't," She whispers.

He nods. Instinctively, "Okay."

And in that one word, he says more than anyone ever has.

Something's happening between them.

Something soft.

Something impossible.

The world is burning.

But in this moment, she feels the weight of his hand and knows:

He won't leash her.

He won't chain her.

He sees her.

And he stayed.

And then the red lights blink on overhead.

All at once.

A deep klaxon groans like a throat clearing before a sermon. And above them, on every wall, a countdown begins.

2:00

1:59

1:58

They all freeze.

"What is that?" Bob asks, blinking.

Cici's chest tightens.

John squints at the numbers, "Doesn't sound like a shredder."

Yelena's voice is quiet. Not afraid. But grim.

"It's an incinerator."

Everyone turns.

"Two minutes," She says, "Then Valentina's plate is clean."

John scoffs, "You don't know that for sure. It could be for anything. Could be when they come to pick me up."

Ghost wipes blood from her mouth, "You feel that? Temperature's rising. Air's thinning. That's heat. That's fuel. It is an incinerator."

John mutters, "Alright, Ghost lady."

"Ava," She corrects.

"Sure. Whatever. I don't care. We need to help you phase through the walls. Open the door."

"She already tried," Yelena snaps.

"I know she did," John replies, "But we haven't tried shutting down the sound barrier. They built it just for her. It has to be an independent power source."

Everyone scatters.

Yelena starts scanning the wall.

Ghost begins tracing conduit lines.

John kicks over crates.

Cici leans against the wall, dizzy.

Bob blinks, still catching up, "What are we looking for?"

Cici, surprising everyone, including herself, says quietly:

"Something hot with lots of wires, Bob."

They find it behind a panel near the back wall.

A steel unit buzzing faintly, wires wrapped around a coil that pulses with pale light. Ghost flinches near it. Her teeth clench.

Yelena pops the panel open and starts working, fingers flying.

"Fifty seconds," John calls.

Yelena snorts, "Thank you for the reminder, Captain Stopwatch."

Bob just watches them, bewildered.

Cici watches him, unsure why she trusts him more than she trusts the others.

Maybe because he doesn't want anything.

Maybe because he's not trying to survive-- he's just there.

Yelena makes a final twist of the wires.

The coil shorts.

The unit sparks and dies.

Ghost looks up. Breathes in.

And phases--

Right through the wall.

Then she's gone.

They wait.

The timer ticks down.

0:38

0:37

0:36

John swears under his breath.

Yelena stares at the wall.

John whispers, "Do you think she's coming back?"

Cici turns to him, baring teeth.

"Of course she's coming back!"

And just then--

CLANK.

The massive doors groan.

Slide open.

And there she is.

Ghost.

Flames crawl through the lower corridors like hungry things, licking the walls, devouring oxygen, making the air above shimmer with blistering heat. The steel groans. The alarms whine. The OXE compound, a graveyard for secrets, begins to cremate its ghosts.

John turns, voice sharp, "Everyone here's got a reason to be here except this guy."

He jerks his thumb toward Bob.

"Hey, Bobby, talk less to yourself and more talking to us."

Bob flinches like he's been struck. Not hard. But deep.

John takes a step closer, "Tell me how you got in here. Right now, goddammit. Right now."

Cici tenses.

The weight of the moment slams into her chest.

Bob, flustered and cornered, raises both hands in surrender, "I swear, man, I just woke up in this place. One minute I was, you know... getting my blood drawn for this medical study. And the next? Boom. I'm here. In my pajamas."

John narrows his eyes, "Okay, then show me where you woke up. Go on."

Bob gestures limply back the way they came.

"In there," He says.

John's voice is flat, "Where everything's on fire. That's really convenient."

Cici moves again, positioning herself between Bob and Walker like a shield.

Yelena sighs, dragging a hand down her face, "Walker, go to your corner. Cici, Bob, go to yours. Before someone gets mauled."

They separate, like war-torn children herded into corners of a burning classroom.

Cici squats beside Bob in the haze of flickering light.

"You okay?" She asks.

Bob nods automatically, "I'm okay."

"You don't look okay."

"Yeah, well... we just met. This is just how I am." He gestures vaguely toward John, "That guy's been an asshole to me from the start."

Cici huffs, "He sucks."

Bob chuckles softly. It dies too quickly.

"You guys should just ditch me. It'll be easier."

Cici's brow furrows, "We're not leaving you behind."

He doesn't look at her, "I think it's better for everyone if I... just stay here."

Her voice softens, "You don't mean that."

But he lifts his eyes to hers.

And she sees it.

He does mean it.

"You saw," He whispers.

Cici nods, haunted, "That... darkness."

He nods too.

"It's tempting," She says, "To go dark and never come back. But the longer you're in it... the more it starts to feel like..."

"Like a void," He finishes.

She swallows, "Yeah. A void."

A pause.

Then he asks, quietly, "What do you do about it?"

She opens her mouth.

But nothing comes out.

Because she doesn't know.

John calls from up ahead, "I found a way out."

They gather.

The shaft runs vertical, straight up. It's old, rust-streaked, the ladder inside long since collapsed.

John, naturally, tries to jump to the top, but ends up falling back down. Ghost can't exactly phases upwards into a place she doesn't know, and nobody can fly.

No one loves the plan.

But it's all they've got.

They start to climb.

Back to back, foot by foot, palms scraping rust.

The heat from below rises like a tide of flame.

Each breath feels thinner.

They climb.

And climb.

And climb.

Near the top, a narrow vent waits.

Sweat drips down their spines.

John huffs, "Now what?"

A long pause.

Then Bob, still holding onto the wall, face damp with exertion, says, "Sorry. I don't think I really thought that far ahead."

"Great plan, Bobby," John spits, "Always making things worse."

Cici's patience snaps.

"Shut the fuck up, Walker!"

Yelena groans, "Cic, I know he's the worst, but if you could please wait to kill him until after we make it out, I would love that."

Then--

Chaos.

John, Yelena, and Ghost start arguing, again, over how to launch someone to the top.

Bob's eyes flutter.

His nose twitches.

He sniffs once, twice.

Then--

"Cucumber! Cucumber! Cucumber!"

Everyone freezes.

Ghost stares, "What the hell is happening?"

Bob pants, "Growing up, someone told me that if you yell cucumber, it tricks your brain and stops a sneeze. I always yell cucumber."

He hiccups.

"I need to sneeze. And if I sneeze, I'll lose control."

John waves a hand, "Okay, great. We're trapped. And the guy with the nuclear sneeze needs emotional support vegetables."

"I'm serious," Bob whimpers.

Yelena starts shouting, "Cucumber!"

Ghost: "Cucumber!"

Cici: "Cucumber!"

Only John refuses, "I'm not yelling that stupid word."

But he uses the distraction.

He snatches Yelena's grappling hook.

Fires.

It latches onto the vent.

"Hey!" She shouts.

He yanks hard.

The line pulls taut.

But--

The rest of them lose balance.

They fall.

Ghost locks onto the wall with a brutal catch.

Her body phases briefly, resets, and she grabs Yelena's hand as she slips.

Yelena grits her teeth,latching her legs around Ghos's waist, then bends down to use her second hook to snag Cici's arm mid-fall.

Cici, jerked by the shoulder, lashes out and grabs Bob's foot just as he starts to plummet.

And then--

Bob sneezes.

The air ripples.

The world bends.

A low rumble moves through the shaft.

The metal screams.

Everything shifts.

And then--

Silence.

They hang there.

One long, human chain.

Bob blinks.

Sniffs.

"Sorry."

Cici, dangling by his foot, sighs, "Bless you."

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