Age 18 — Safe House, Northern Averikan Frontier
One Week After the DK-Ultra Facility
The safe house was a converted hunting cabin, deep in the pine forests that marked the border between Averika and the northern territories. Snow had piled against the windows. The fire was low. Krovka moved through the rooms in the careful silence of people who had learned that noise meant death.
Netoshka sat alone in the corner, watching.
The others had learned to leave her alone. Zimor brought food, left it beside her without comment. Volna checked her pulse once, found it steady, said nothing. Kedr's constant chatter died when he entered her space. Sova sat with her sometimes, silent, not demanding anything.
They understood. They had all lost someone. They had all been betrayed. They just didn't know the shape of what she was carrying.
She carried Ruzina's ghost. She carried the memory of sleepers in their tanks. She carried the weight of every nation that had ever used her and discarded her.
And now she had to decide what came next.
---
The Question
It was Kedr who finally asked.
Three days after she returned, he sat across from her in the failing light and said what the others wouldn't.
"So what are we doing? The war's still going. Averika's tearing itself apart. Kersnik hasn't sent orders in weeks. And you—" He gestured vaguely. "You're just sitting there."
Volna spoke from the doorway.
"Kedr."
"What? Someone has to ask." He looked at Netoshka. "You found something in that facility. Something that changed things. What was it?"
Netoshka met his eyes.
"Sleeper cells. Hundreds of them. People taken from everywhere—Rosalvya, Riyue, Dongba, the Principalities—all programmed to be weapons. To wake up when the time comes and kill whoever they're told."
The room went still.
Qi-7 spoke from the shadows. His voice was flat, empty. "We knew that. The Synarchy has its own programs. Every nation does."
"I found my file," Netoshka continued. "My handlers. Rosalvya. Averika. Riyue. All of them. They've been watching me since I was born. Using me. Programming me. And when I stopped being useful, they marked me for termination."
She paused.
"I found Ruzina's file too. The woman who saved me on Sombiro. She was DSI. Deep cover. Her mission was to befriend me, earn my trust, then die so I would carry their programming back to Rosalvya." Her voice cracked. "They killed her after the mission. Terminated her like an asset that had served its purpose."
The silence stretched.
Yunyan spoke softly. "So what do you want to do?"
Netoshka looked at her. At all of them.
"I don't know."
---
The Visitor
Kersnik arrived the next morning.
His vehicle was unmarked, his driver unknown. He walked into the cabin like he owned it—which, Netoshka realized, he probably did.
He looked at Krovka scattered around the room. At Netoshka in her corner.
"Report."
Zimor stood. "Facility located. DK-Ultra confirmed. Hundreds of sleepers in cryogenic storage. We're compiling intelligence on activation protocols."
"And the asset's status?"
Zimor glanced at Netoshka. "Stable."
Kersnik's eyes moved to her. "Alone."
The others filed out. Zimor last, closing the door behind him.
Kersnik sat across from Netoshka. He didn't speak immediately. Just watched her with those sharp, patient eyes.
"You found your file," he said finally.
"Yes."
"And you found hers."
Netoshka's jaw tightened. "You knew. About Ruzina. About DSI. About all of it."
"I knew some of it. Not all." He leaned back. "I knew you had been compromised. Reprogrammed by multiple agencies. I knew your psychological profile was unstable. I recruited you anyway."
"Why?"
"Because unstable is useful. Because people who have been broken by every system are the only ones who see clearly. Because you are the most effective weapon I have ever encountered, and I am not sentimental enough to throw that away."
Netoshka stared at him.
"The sleepers—"
"Will be activated soon. By Averika, by Riyue, by whoever gets there first. That's not your problem."
"It is my problem." Her voice was harder than she expected. "They're people. They didn't choose this."
Kersnik studied her for a long moment. Then he smiled—not warmly, but with something that might have been respect.
"So that's what's changed. You've found something to care about."
Netoshka said nothing.
---
The Proposal
Kersnik stood. Walked to the window. The snow was falling again, soft and relentless.
"The war will continue for months, maybe years. When it ends, the nations that survive will rebuild. They'll use whatever weapons they have left. Including the sleepers. Including you."
He turned.
"You could run. Disappear. Find somewhere the wars don't reach. There are places like that. Not many, but some."
Netoshka shook her head. "I can't run."
"No. You can't." He walked back, stopped in front of her. "So you have two choices. You can try to fight every nation that ever used you, which will get you killed very quickly. Or you can use the resources you have to prepare for what comes next."
"What comes next?"
Kersnik's expression was unreadable.
"The world after the war. When the old powers have exhausted themselves. When people are desperate enough to follow anyone who promises order. That's when the real battle begins."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a folder. Placed it on the table.
"You have six months left on your contract with the Synarchy. Six months to do what you need to do. After that, you're free to leave. Take Krovka with you, if they'll go. Do whatever you want."
Netoshka opened the folder.
Inside were documents. Maps. Intelligence reports. Locations of DK-Ultra facilities across the continent. Names of handlers. Activation codes. Everything she would need.
"I'm giving you the means to find every sleeper cell, every weapon, every program that's still active. What you do with that information is your choice."
She looked up. "Why?"
Kersnik smiled again.
"Because I'm not a patriot. I'm not an ideologue. I'm a pragmatist. The old nations are dying. Something new will rise. I want to be on the side that builds it." He paused. "And I want you to remember that when the time comes, I helped you."
He walked to the door.
"You have six months. Use them wisely."
---
The Decision
That night, Netoshka called the squad together.
They sat around the fire, waiting.
"I'm leaving the Synarchy."
No one moved. Zimor's expression didn't change. Volna raised an eyebrow. Kedr started to speak, then stopped.
"Not immediately. Six months. Kersnik agreed. After that, I'm done serving nations that see people as weapons."
Qi-7's voice was quiet. "And what will you do then?"
Netoshka looked at the folder on the table.
"Find the sleepers. The people who were taken, programmed, locked away like I was. They're going to be activated soon. Someone has to be there when they wake up. Someone has to tell them what they were made for—and give them a choice."
Sova spoke for the first time.
"A choice you didn't have."
"Yes."
Silence.
Then Yunyan:
"You want us to come with you."
"I want you to have the same choice I'm giving them. You can stay with Synarchy. You can go back to your own nations. You can disappear. Whatever you need." She paused. "But I'm not serving anyone anymore. Not Rosalvya. Not Riyue. Not Averika. Not Kersnik. I'm done being a weapon."
Volna laughed—short, sharp.
"And what are you going to be instead?"
Netoshka met her eyes.
"Something else."
As she thought about her father Yevgeny and wondered what he had been up to since they last met.
---
The Responses
Zimor was first. He stood, walked to the window, looked out at the snow.
"I joined the Synarchy because my country didn't want me. My unit was sacrificed in a war that wasn't ours. No one cared." He turned. "I'm not going back. I'll follow you."
Volna shrugged.
"I'm a sniper. I've killed for every side in every war. Doesn't matter to me who's paying. But fighting for something? That's new." She smiled. "I'm in."
Kedr bounced on his heels.
"I've been running since I was twelve. Never had anywhere to stay. Never had anyone to fight for." He looked at Netoshka. "You gave me that. I'm not leaving."
Sova said nothing. Just moved to stand beside Netoshka. That was enough.
Qi-7 was last. He sat in the shadows, his face unreadable.
"I was a member of the White Dragons. I believed in the cause. I did terrible things for it." His voice was flat. "Then I saw what we were really doing. The camps. The executions. The children." He looked at Netoshka. "I left because I couldn't be part of it anymore. But I never found anything to replace it with."
He stood.
"Maybe this is it."
Yunyan and Honglian and Lotus moved to join the others. One by one, they chose.
Netoshka looked at them. Eight people, all broken, all damaged, all carrying the weight of wars they didn't start.
She thought about Ruzina. About the sleepers. About the family in the Higane village, the one who had looked at her with burning eyes and promised to remember.
Watch what I become. Watch what they make of people like us.
She had said that. She had meant it.
Now she had to decide what she would become.
---
The Promise
Six months.
Kersnik had given them six months to finish their contracts, to gather intelligence, to prepare. Six months before they walked away from the Synarchy and everything it represented.
Netoshka stood in the doorway of the cabin, watching the snow fall.
Zimor came up beside her.
"You know what you're doing?"
"No."
He nodded slowly.
"Good. That's when you know it's real."
He left her alone.
Netoshka looked up at the sky. Stars were emerging between the clouds, faint and distant.
She thought about Ruzina, about the last thing she had said.
Remember me. Not as a mission. Not as a handler. As a friend. Because that part was real.
She thought about the sleepers in their tanks. About the children who would wake up one day and be told they were weapons.
She thought about the Girl and boy in the village, who would grow up with hatred in their hearts because she had taught them that was the only way to survive.
Someone has to stop it.
That was what she had told him. That was what she had promised herself.
Now she had six months to figure out how.
---
Netoshka had made her choice.
Not for Rosalvya. Not for Averika. Not for Riyue. Not for Kersnik.
For the people who had no one else.
Six months to finish what she started. Six months to find the sleepers, to learn their secrets, to prepare for the day they would need someone to tell them they didn't have to be weapons.
After that, she was done.
She would take Krovka and disappear. Find somewhere the wars couldn't reach. Fight for something that mattered.
Or die trying.
The ghost of Ruzina smiled in the darkness.
And somewhere, deep in the frozen north, the sleepers waited.
Their time was coming.