James stood at the entrance of the black building, his breath visible in the biting cold air. He eyed the trio in front of him—Flint, Vera, and 433—all wrapped in heavy, long-sleeved black cloaks with hoods obscuring the upper halves of their faces. Only their mouths and chins were visible beneath the shadows cast by the deep hoods.

  "You three are to find and eliminate any spies," James ordered, his voice stern and unwavering. "The information they possess is too valuable to fall into the hands of our enemies. Trust no one, and if they show even a hint of betrayal, deal with them immediately."

  Snow crunched underfoot as the Awakened nodded in silent acknowledgment. They exchanged no words, only brief glances that communicated their understanding of the gravity of their mission. The snow continued to fall heavily, almost suffocating the world in its silence.

  James studied them for a moment longer. "You’ve been trained for this. Don’t let me down," he said, his voice firm but with an edge of finality.

  Without another word, the three turned and headed into the thick snow, their long cloaks swaying with their movements. As they vanished into the white, only the snow kept falling, erasing their tracks almost as quickly as they were made.

  ***

  They were given a car as transport, and the first city they prepared to clear was New York.

  “So, you think the other nations’ Awakened are going to be stronger than us?” Flint asked.

  It was Vera who answered him, “Of course not. If they were, the Boss and James would never have made us kill our comrades or even sent us out on a solo mission.”

  “Ha! That’s a naive mindset, Vera.”

  “Naive?”

  “Yes,” Flint replied, his eyes narrowing. “You think they even see us as people? We’re just expendable weapons in their eyes.”

  Vera clicked her tongue in frustration. “Tch, what was the point of murdering everyone in that pointless tournament anyway? Why make us kill off our own instead of just sending all of us out?”

  Flint stayed quiet, his brow furrowed as he searched for an answer. Finally, he muttered, “That… your guess is as good as mine.” There was a heavy pause before his eyes widened slightly, an idea dawning on him. “You think it’s something to do with what can be done with a dead Awakened?”

  Vera considered it, her gaze distant. “It seems likely. The Boss might be ruthless, but he wouldn’t make us slaughter everyone without a reason.” Her voice was laced with a subtle bitterness, one that mirrored her growing distrust.

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  Flint nodded slowly, the pieces of a larger plan seeming to form in his mind. “Whatever the reason, it’s not something they’d share with us.”

  433 remained silent in the backseat, absorbing every word. It all felt like one endless, twisted game—one he wasn’t sure any of them could win. The tension in the car grew as they drove deeper into the city, preparing to confront the unknown, armed only with their distrust and unanswered questions.

  The hotel they arrived at was a grand, historic building in midtown Manhattan. It was adorned with a lavish lobby and marble floors that reflected the dim, golden lighting. The walls were painted a deep crimson with elegant black accents, creating a sense of sophistication mixed with an undertone of eeriness. Antique brass lamps lined the corridors, giving the place an almost timeless quality.

  When the trio approached the front desk, the hotel manager—a slender, graying man in his early fifties—greeted them. His suit, though neatly pressed, seemed to be trembling with him. He took one quick look at their long-sleeved, hooded attire, which was visibly stiffened, with beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead despite the cool air conditioning.

  “G-good evening,” he stammered, his eyes nervously flicking from one to the next. “You must be the...guests sent by Mr. James?” he inquired, his tone uncertain but professional.

  Flint nodded slightly. “That’s us,” he said, his voice low and measured, sensing the man’s anxiety.

  “W-we have your rooms ready,” the manager continued, forcing a tight-lipped smile as he quickly looked down to avoid their gaze. He handed each of them a keycard with a slightly shaking hand. “Please, enjoy your stay. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call down.”

  The whole interaction lasted barely a minute, but the manager’s demeanor was unmistakable. His words were polite, but his actions betrayed a deep-rooted fear of who—or instead, what—they were. As the trio turned to head toward the elevators, the manager stayed rooted in place, keeping his head lowered as if daring not to breathe until they were gone. The elevator ride was silent, the hum of the machinery almost drowning out the tension that still lingered from the brief exchange.

  When the doors opened, they stepped into a quiet, dimly lit hallway. Each Awakened wordlessly took their respective keycards and proceeded to their separate rooms.

  As 433 entered his room, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. The room was furnished luxuriously, but its grandeur only served to remind him of the stark contrast between the comfort of his surroundings and the mission he was there to complete. Deep emerald curtains were drawn over the windows, blocking out the city lights, and the room was dominated by a king-sized bed draped in white linens. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, diffused glow across the room’s rich mahogany furniture and soft carpet. The atmosphere felt almost surreal to him—like stepping into someone else’s life.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair, and tried to push away the flood of memories from earlier events. He couldn’t dwell on that now. They had a task to do, and his survival depended on his ability to stay focused. James had been clear: they would receive all the intel and clues about potential spies in the city tomorrow morning.

  They couldn’t act without the proper information, and tiring themselves out mentally would only make things worse. As much as his mind raced, sleep was his only real option if he wanted to face tomorrow’s challenges with a clear head.

  But even as he reasoned with himself, 433’s mind was restless. He got up and walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains just enough to peek outside. The city stretched far into the distance, a sea of blinking lights and skyscrapers, bustling despite the late hour. From up here, the world seemed calm, almost peaceful, and he wondered if any of those thousands of people below had any idea of the storm brewing behind the scenes. He closed the curtain, sealing the world away once more.

  He entered the bathroom, feeling a chill from the cool marble sink as he washed his hands. The reflection in the mirror didn’t look like him—he was used to seeing exhaustion and indifference on his face, but now there was something more: confusion, uncertainty, and a growing sense of dread.

  James’s words echoed in his head: “All information and clues will be given tomorrow.” It reminded him that there was nothing to be done until then. Staring into the mirror for another moment, he tried to shake off the unease. He turned off the bathroom light and approached the bed, feeling the plushness as he sat down. It was almost surreal as if the room wasn’t meant for him.

  ‘There’s no point in staying up,’ he thought, accepting that worrying over what tomorrow held would do nothing but wear him out. Pulling back the sheets, he laid down, feeling the unfamiliar softness cradle him, and forced himself to close his eyes. Sleep took over slowly, weighed down by thoughts he couldn’t quite chase away.