Williams sat alone on the veranda of the Sanctuary, the steady breath of the ocean rolling in beneath the palms. The air was warm, heavy with salt and distant surf. A secure line hummed softly in his ear, patched through Talia’s rig.
“I’ve read the files,” Samantha Tucker said at last. “Is this… real?”
Williams stared out at the horizon. “Those data were taken straight out of a hidden SimCor research facility and from Johann Schmidt’s personal laptop.”
Silence followed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you yesterday,” Tucker said quietly. “But it sounded very unreal.”
“I wish it was,” Williams replied.
“What do you want to do now?”
“First, we need to take that target off our backs. The CIA’s deputy was involved, but the order to take us out only came after he died. Someone else high up is still pulling strings. We’ve found a few big names.”
“So you want me to investigate the CIA?”
“No. I want you to quietly look into the NSA. We’ve found no ties in Schmidt’s files so far, but I want to be sure. If your agency comes out clean, then I want to talk to your boss.”
“…My boss?”
“He’s the only one high enough to go against the CIA without committing a public career suicide.”
Tucker exhaled slowly. “You’re asking me to poke a hornet’s nest, David.”
“I’m asking you to confirm whether there’s a nest at all. If the NSA comes out clean, we finally have a lever.”
A breath passed over the line. “Alright. I’ll start pulling threads. Quietly. But you owe me a drink if this blows over.”
“You got it. And Sam—be careful.”
“You too.”
The line went dead.
***
Days passed. The team dug deeper into Schmidt’s data, uncovering layers of corruption, but momentum slowed. Patterns repeated. Leads circled back on themselves. Then a shout cut through the Sanctuary. A boy—no older than nine, came sprinting up the path.
“?Se?or Dawson! ?Se?or Dawson!”
Dawson stepped forward. “What is it, boy?”
“?Piratas! ?Están en el pueblo! ?Ayuda! ?Por favor!”
Maya knelt slightly. “?Cuántos hay?”
The boy spread his hands. “Mucho…”
Dawson straightened and turned to the girls. “Fangs, gear up.”
In a few minutes the girls were lined up and ready. The village is not that far away, so they didn't even need transportation. And the whole island is their playground.
Michelle and her team were ready in the com room.
From the command room, Michelle monitored feeds as Dawson’s voice came through. “They’re moving fast. Eight minutes to contact.”
Michelle frowned. “Why aren’t they wearing face coverings?”
“They don’t need to,” Milena said grimly. “The villagers know them. And as for the pirates - dead men don’t talk.”
Girls are now at the edge of the village, Talia's drone flying high,doing a quick scan of the area. Roughly 20 goons scattered around the village, armed mostly with semi-automatics. Villagers also scattered around, some looking wounded, so the girls need to be extra careful not to get them into the crossfire. But the girls are pros. Trella reports all hands ready, Michelle gives the go. The action is quick, clean, the pirates never know what hit them. 5 minutes and all but one are dead. The sole survivor got caught by Aya, who was about to make him a new asshole on his head, but Trella stopped her at the last second.
“You are working for someone, right? I don′t need a name, just a yes or no.”
The man nodded frantically. “Y-Y-Y-Yes…”
Trella stepped back. “In that case this is your lucky day. You will be allowed to get off this island alive. You will tell your boss what you′ve seen here. This island is protected and we don′t like outsiders. So, if he′s gonna send anyone here ever again, we′re gonna find him and castrate him. Understand?”
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The pirate gave a quick, very frightened nod.
“Oh,” Aya added sweetly, “and don’t forget to change your pants.”
Milena and Liza move through the village administering first aid. No one’s life is in danger. Wounds are patched, broken bones splinted. Mama Gabriela arrives at the small cluster of saved people, eyes wet with gratitude. “Dios mío. Thank you. You come to my people like family. Come, tomorrow we feast! You are all welcome to join us. We shall celebrate life!”
***
The next day the village was alive with music and the smell of roasted fish and sweet plantains. Tables had been dragged into the square, covered in homemade dishes, and garlands of bright flowers hung between palm trunks.
For Michelle and her father, it was the first time they saw the strange bond between the villagers and the Fangs up close. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t awe, it was trust. The villagers laughed easily with the girls, calling them by name. Children clung to Milena’s arms, begging her to spin them around, while Talia let two boys chase her drone like it was a kite. Even Mei-Ling was smiling, though she never put her kukri down.
Some of the older villagers nodded respectfully at Trella, Gabriela kept her close to her side. Plates were pressed into the hands of Williams and Michelle before they could protest. The food was simple but rich, and the girls ate with the same unguarded joy as the locals.
A few sidearms stayed visible at the hips of a few of the girls—just in case, but the mood was easy, warm. Voices carried across the square, laughter mixing with guitar strings. For one long evening, the island felt like what it truly was for them all: sanctuary.
Later that evening—
“Oh, boy! Now THAT was a feast! I can barely move!” Aya groaned, sprawled dramatically.
“No wonder,” Mei-Ling said dryly. “Look at what you ate.”
“Yeah. I was amazed there was anything left for the rest of us,” Liza added.
“That was a very interesting experience,” Michelle smiled. “I′ve never been to a feast like this before.”
“Yeah, the locals are awesome,” Trella said.
“And they weren′t scared even a bit! And they were all so friendly!”
“That is the dark symbiosis we have with them,” Trella replied. “They just want to live their peaceful lives on this island. And we are their protectors. In exchange they're guarding our secret.”
“Here we can be who and what we are. No masks, no acting, no hiding,” Mei-Ling added softly.
“They know we won't hurt them no matter what…” Aya said and burped loudly. ”…sorry!”
“Looks like someone will have double training tomorrow…” Liza jiggled.
“Yeah. All of us,” Trella said.
“Ooooh! C′mon!”
Michelle laughed. “We've all spent a lot of time in the tech room. I think a little exercise will do us good. And my brain needs a break too…”
The next morning, the Sanctuary woods were wrapped in thick humidity. Mist clung to the trees like a second skin, and the air vibrated with birdsong and cicadas. Beneath the canopy, the Fangs lined up in their training gear, boots sinking slightly into damp soil. Trella stepped forward, posture rigid, voice sharp, fully in instructor mode. “Alright, girls. Yesterday was fun. Today we sweat it out. Pairs — sparring first, then endurance run. Let’s move!”
Aya groans dramatically, one hand still pressed to her stomach.
“That’s what you get for eating like a bear,” Mei-Ling said, smirking.
“Hey,” Aya shot back, offended. “Don’t mock the feast champion!”
“Champion of what?” Liza laughed. “Indigestion?”
Michelle keeps pace beside them, a bit unsure but determined. She exchanges a quick glance with her father. He nods silently, approving her commitment. The drills begin. Fangs dart between trees, rope-darts slicing the air, kukris flashing, hand-to-hand sparring breaking into bursts of laughter when someone slips in the mud. Despite the discipline, the mood is light. They’re warriors, but also just a pack of young women burning energy under the canopy. Trella, keeping a sharp eye, finally calls out. “Good. Enough warming up. Now we run. Five kilometers. Let’s see who still has gas after last night’s feast.”
Aya lets out another groan. Mei-Ling and Liza just grin, already bouncing on their feet, ready to take off. The morning mist burns off as the drills continue. The forest echoes with the thud of fists, the swish of weapons, and bursts of laughter. Sweat glistens on their skin, their breathing sharp but steady. Michelle struggles to keep up at first but pushes herself harder with each round, determination in her eyes. Trella watches closely, correcting a stance here, tightening a guard there, the same way she does with the others. No special treatment. Aya, despite her feast-hangover, surprises everyone by winning the final sprint, arms thrown up like a champion. “See? Feast power!”
The others laugh, shaking their heads as they cool down in the shade. For a brief moment, it feels almost ordinary. A morning run, training in the woods, laughter cutting through the heaviness of their lives.
Hours later, inside the Sanctuary’s control room, that lightness was gone. Michelle leaned back from the screens, frustration etched across her face. “I thought the exercise would jumpstart my brain, but… looking at this data, it feels like we’re running in circles.”
“Because we are,” Talia said flatly. “The files keep repeating themselves.”
“We know where they produced the material,” Williams said. “We know where the hardware came from. We know the potential buyers. What’s left?”
“The serum,” Michelle replied immediately. “We know they didn’t find the original formula. They bought it and then redeveloped it. We need to find out who sold it to them. Whoever that was… maybe we can find out who else got their hands on it.”
“Not just that,” Milena added carefully. “Some components are incredibly rare and—”
“Mils, that’s it,” Michelle snapped, suddenly sitting upright. “The components! If we locate them, we can track the flow!”
Talia frowned. “So… what exactly are we looking for?”
“The serum is complex,” Milena said. “Most things can be synthesized in labs, but some ingredients are naturally bound to very specific locations. Only a few corners of the world can produce them.”
Michelle nodded. “Then that’s our next objective.”
Silence settled over the room as the weight of the plan sank in. Then suddenly the door opened slowly. A woman stepped inside—calm, confident, entirely unhurried.
“I think I can help you with that.”
Everyone turned at once. Hands instinctively drifted toward the holsters. The woman just smiled faintly and said “Shalom.”
