Age 18 — Averikan Outskirts
Three Weeks After the Civil War Began
The war had moved on.
Port Victory still burned in the distance, but the front lines had shifted east. What remained was a scarred landscape of abandoned checkpoints, burned-out vehicles, and villages that had been caught between armies and crushed.
Netoshka moved through it alone.
Krovka had scattered. No communications. No extraction. No orders. Just survival.
She headed north, toward the Averikan frontier, toward somewhere quiet to regroup and think.
She found something else instead.
---
The Discovery
The facility sat in a valley, hidden from satellite view by the surrounding mountains. No markings. No fences. Just a single road leading into a hillside that opened into a concrete entrance.
Netoshka observed for two days.
No patrols. No visible guards. But lights burned inside. Generators hummed. Someone was home.
On the third night, she went in.
The entrance led to a long corridor. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. The air was cold—colder than outside—and smelled of antiseptic and something else. Something that triggered buried memories.
Zeta-9. RedBird. The ritual chamber.
She kept moving.
The corridor opened into a vast chamber.
And stopped.
Rows and rows of glass cylinders lined the walls. Each one held a human figure suspended in pale blue fluid. Cables connected to their temples, their spines, their chests. Monitors displayed vital signs—slow, steady, hibernating.
Sleeper cells.
Hundreds of them.
Men. Women. Some so young they couldn't have been more than fifteen. All waiting. All dreaming. All ready to be activated when the time came.
Netoshka walked between the rows, her breath fogging the cold air. Faces floated past her. Strangers. Unknown. But each one a weapon, like her. Each one a person who had been taken, broken, remade.
She stopped at a console near the back wall.
A screen displayed project files.
DK-ULTRA — PHASE 7
ASSET INVENTORY — ACTIVE
She scrolled through names. Designations. Activation codes.
And found a familiar face.
RUZINA KOROLEVA
DESIGNATION: ECHO-12
STATUS: DECEASED — TERMINATED FOLLOWING SOMBIRO ESCAPE
PRIMARY PROGRAMMING: DSI DEEP COVER
MISSION: INFILTRATE SOMBIRO, IDENTIFY ASSET N-07, FACILITATE CONDITIONED ESCAPE
NOTES: Asset performed beyond expectations. Successfully embedded with target, established emotional bond, executed conditioned escape protocol. Terminated as planned to prevent compromise. Recommend posthumous commendation.
Netoshka stared at the screen.
The words blurred.
Terminated as planned.
Ruzina hadn't died in the crash.
She had been killed.
By her own people.
After doing exactly what they told her to do.
After saving Netoshka.
After pretending to be her friend.
After—
Netoshka's knees buckled. She caught herself on the console, breathing hard.
It was all a mission.
The tunnel. The friendship. The escape. The crash. The moment in the water.
Just you.
Ruzina had said those words. Had pushed her away. Had saved her one last time.
And then they killed her for it.
---
The First Hallucination
She didn't remember leaving the facility.
One moment she was staring at the screen. The next, she was outside, stumbling through snow, her breath ragged, her vision blurring.
A voice behind her.
"Netoshka."
She spun.
Ruzina stood ten meters away. Same red-orange hair. Same blue-gray eyes. Same slight smile.
Alive.
"You're dead," Netoshka whispered.
Ruzina tilted her head.
"Am I?"
The snow swirled between them.
"You left me. In the water. You pushed me away."
"I saved you." Ruzina's voice was calm. Gentle. "That was the mission."
"The mission." Netoshka's voice cracked. "Our friendship. The tunnel. Everything. All of it was a mission?"
Ruzina was silent for a long moment.
Then she stepped closer.
"The mission was real. The friendship was real." She paused. "They're not the same thing."
Netoshka shook her head.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It does if you think about it." Ruzina smiled sadly. "I was sent to befriend you. That was my order. But the friendship that happened—that was real. I couldn't fake that. Not with you."
She reached out. Her hand passed through Netoshka's shoulder like smoke.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry for all of it."
She faded.
Netoshka stood alone in the snow.
---
The Archive
She went back inside.
Not because she wanted to. Because she had to know more.
The files went deeper than she expected.
PROJECT ECHO — PHASE 1
Objective: Identify and cultivate assets with psionic potential
Primary Target: N-07 (Nezvany, Netoshka)
Method: Deep cover infiltration (ECHO-7)
Status: Complete
PROJECT ECHO — PHASE 2
Objective: Condition asset through trauma bonding and controlled escape
Method: Simulated friendship, shared survival experiences, manufactured crisis
Status: Complete
PROJECT ECHO — PHASE 3
Objective: Ensure asset reaches target destination (Rosalvya/Synarchy)
Method: Sacrificial extraction protocol (ECHO-12 termination)
Status: Complete
SACRIFICIAL EXTRACTION PROTOCOL
Asset: ECHO-12 (Koroleva, Ruzina)
Method: Drowning, made to look like crash accident
Authorization: Director Hale
Notes: Asset performed with distinction. Expressed no hesitation. Final words: "Tell her I'm sorry."
Netoshka read the last line five times.
Tell her I'm sorry.
Ruzina had known. Had known from the beginning that she would die. Had known that her friendship was a weapon. Had done it anyway.
And in the end, she had apologized.
For what? For following orders? For saving Netoshka's life? For dying so that Netoshka could live?
Netoshka didn't know.
She sat on the cold floor of the archive, surrounded by files and screens and the humming of machines that kept hundreds of sleepers alive, and she wept.
For Ruzina. For herself. For all of it.
---
The Second Hallucination
She woke in darkness.
The facility's lights had dimmed. Emergency backups hummed faintly. Something had happened—a power fluctuation, a system failure.
She stood. Moved through the rows of sleepers.
At the far end, near a broken console, a figure waited.
Ruzina.
"Back again?" Netoshka's voice was hollow.
"I never left." Ruzina gestured at the sleepers. "Look at them. All of them. They're us. Every one."
Netoshka looked.
Hundreds of faces. Hundreds of weapons. Hundreds of people who had been taken, broken, remade.
"Some of them will die," Ruzina continued. "Some will wake up and do terrible things. Some will never wake at all." She turned to Netoshka. "Just like us."
"Us?"
Ruzina smiled. "You and me. We're the same. We were made for this. Trained for this. Programmed for this." She paused. "The only difference is, I'm dead. And you're still choosing."
Netoshka shook her head. "I don't understand."
"You will." Ruzina faded. "When you're ready."
The lights returned.
Netoshka stood alone.
---
The Guilt
She spent the next day in the facility.
Reading. Learning. Understanding.
Ruzina's file was thick. Years of service. Dozens of missions. Awards. Commendations. And then Sombiro.
The last entry was from Director Hale.
Asset ECHO-12 performed beyond expectations. Emotional bond with target was deeper than anticipated. Expressed reluctance during final briefing but complied without hesitation. Recommend posthumous recognition.
Netoshka closed the file.
Reluctance.
Ruzina hadn't wanted to die. Hadn't wanted to leave her. Had done it anyway because that was the mission.
Because Netoshka was worth more alive than Ruzina was.
Because that's how the game worked.
She thought about the moments in the tunnel. The late-night conversations. The way Ruzina had held her after the DK-Ultra sessions. The way she had whispered, "You're still here. Don't let them take that."
All of it real.
All of it a mission.
Both things true at once.
Netoshka pressed her palms against her eyes.
The guilt was overwhelming.
---
The Third Hallucination
She left the facility at dusk.
The snow had stopped. The sky was clear and cold. Stars emerging.
Ruzina stood at the edge of the tree line.
"Going somewhere?"
Netoshka stopped. "You're not real."
"Probably not." Ruzina shrugged. "But here I am anyway."
They looked at each other across the snow.
"Why did you do it?" Netoshka asked. "Why did you save me?"
Ruzina was quiet for a long moment.
"Because you were worth saving." She smiled. "That's not a mission. That's just true."
"You didn't know me."
"I knew enough." Ruzina stepped closer. "I knew you were broken. I knew you'd been used by everyone who ever touched you. I knew you deserved better." She paused. "I knew because I was the same."
Netoshka's throat tightened.
"And now?"
Ruzina spread her arms. "Now I'm dead. And you're alive. And you have to decide what that means."
She began to fade.
"Ruzina—"
"Remember me." The voice was distant now. "Not as a mission. Not as a handler. As a friend. Because that part was real."
She disappeared.
Netoshka stood alone in the snow.
---
The Question --
She walked through the night.
The facility behind her. The war ahead. The guilt inside.
She thought about Ruzina. About the friendship. About the betrayal. About the apology.
She thought about the sleepers in their tanks. Hundreds of weapons waiting to be unleashed.
She thought about herself. About all the nations that had used her. About all the programming that still lived in her mind.
About the Voice.
You are not theirs.
But whose was she?
Not Rosalvya's. Not Averika's. Not Riyue's. Not Kersnik's.
Maybe no one's.
Maybe that was the point.
---
The Return --
Three days later, she made contact with Krovka.
Zimor found her near a supply depot, half-frozen, barely conscious. He didn't ask questions. Just carried her to a safe house and waited for her to wake.
Volna was there. Kedr. Sova.
No words. Just presence.
Qi-7 arrived that night with Yunyan. Honglian and Lotus followed the next morning.
The squad was together again.
Netoshka sat against a wall, watching them move around the safe house. Normal. Human. Alive.
She thought about Ruzina. About the sleepers. About everything.
Zimor sat down beside her. Said nothing. Just waited.
Finally, she spoke.
"There's a facility north of here. DK-Ultra. Sleepers. Hundreds of them."
He nodded slowly.
"They're going to activate them. Soon. When they do, the war gets worse."
"And?"
Netoshka met his eyes.
"I don't know whose side I'm on anymore."
Zimor was quiet for a long moment.
Then he shrugged.
"None of us do. That's why we're here."
He stood. Walked away.
Netoshka watched him go.
The war continued.
The sleepers waited.
And somewhere, in the space between memory and madness, Ruzina watched too.
Waiting for her to finally understand.
---
Netoshka had seen the truth.
Ruzina was dead. Killed by her own people after saving Netoshka's life. The friendship was real. The betrayal was real. Both things true at once.
The sleepers in the facility were her siblings. Her children. Her future.
And somewhere in her mind, a ghost lingered.
Watching.
Waiting.
For what, Netoshka didn't know.
But she was starting to understand.
She wasn't anyone's weapon.
She wasn't anyone's asset.
She was just a girl who had been used by everyone she ever trusted.
And now she had to decide what came next.