Glass hissed, venomous, closing the distance silently. She circled her prey.

  Edelweiss tucked her chin and assumed an orthodox boxing stance.

  Glass’s lithe body coiled; claws dug into steel for traction. She lunged, slashing at Edelweiss’s stomach.

  Edelweiss pivoted and countered with a left downward cross.

  The strike cracked with a supersonic boom. Glass twisted midair, narrowly avoiding it.

  Claws shot upward, aimed at Edelweiss’s left armpit. She blocked with her elbow—claws ripped skin. She drove her knee forward.

  It landed flush on Glass’s cross-block at the last split second.

  Glass was flung into the air by the impact with the force of a satchel charge. She twisted like a cat, dug her nails into the floor to slow herself. Her right arm went numb, a deep black bloom spreading where the strike had landed.

  “Not bad…” Glass’s tongue flicked from her smiling mouth. No fear tasted in the air—only fury, blood, and ozone.

  Glass circled again, never stepping into range. A smile crawled across her face.

  She tossed an impact white-phosphorus grenade at Edelweiss’s feet.

  White smoke filled the room. Edelweiss’s sight switched to thermal, easily resolving her own radioactive heat against the cold elevator.

  Glass vanished.

  Thermal was useless—Glass’s temperature now matched the elevator’s cold steel exactly.

  A gasp escaped Edelweiss. She stumbled.

  A thirsty hiss.

  Laughter.

  The screech of steel torn open by claws—sparks flickering as heat bled from wounded metal.

  Silence.

  Pain detonated through Edelweiss’s lower back and stomach as venomous breath washed over her ear.

  “Not bad for a roach-toy,” Glass whispered. Venom dripped onto Edelweiss’s shoulder.

  Edelweiss pivoted and unleashed a cross–uppercut–jab combination. Each punch could have vaporized a human.

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  They struck nothing.

  Edelweiss coughed blood. She didn’t need to see the damage. Her lower body felt wet. Pain gnawed at her senses as she clutched her wounds, vision collapsing into a blur.

  Geiger slammed a control. Fans groaned to life. Smoke drained away.

  Glass licked blood from her claws.

  “Vermin,” she hissed, giving Geiger a thumbs-down.

  “Noted,” he replied sharply.

  Edelweiss slid down the wall and collapsed. She screamed as she yanked a tourniquet around her hip and forced biodegradable bandages deep into torn flesh. She tried to rise. Failed.

  Geiger stepped forward and clenched his fist. The squad assembled.

  “Keep and train—or kill,” he exhaled.

  “Definitely keep. No question!” Rain grinned, flashing a thumbs-up.

  “My instincts scream poison, Geiger!” Glass slashed the air with her shaking arm, now pitch black.

  “I reserve judgment until she’s questioned.”

  He turned toward Edelweiss.

  “You are not weak,” Geiger said. “Choose a different callsign.”

  She gurgled.

  “What is your callsign, soldier?”

  She blinked and looked around—at the floor, her fatigues, her hands, feet, face, the walls—everything painted red.

  Their eyes were on her.

  She stared at her hands and closed her eyes. Memory swallowed her.

  “I wish I could be more than what they made me, commander,” she said, coughing as she extended her bloody palms.

  “Agreed. Declare your callsign.”

  Silence stretched.

  “I am Geiger! Radiation—poison for all! Life for me!”

  “I am Glass! I spot you, end you—you never see it coming!”

  Rain juggled his knives, eyes closed.

  “I am Rain! Inescapable. Corrosive!”

  Rain tapped Geiger’s arm. “Commander, may I have a minute with my newly assigned mate?”

  Geiger glanced at the dial: B3.

  “Three minutes.”

  Rain sat beside her, placed a cigar in her mouth, and lit it. Their eyes locked. She squeezed his hand.

  Rain drew a grenade and pulled the pin.

  “One hand here. One on the spoon,” he smiled. “Let’s play a game, rookie.”

  “Will you unravel under fire and get us killed?”

  She pressed the grenade to her chest, securing the spoon.

  “No. I’ll follow Ember’s path. Follow your lead.”

  “Your turn.”

  “Will I be tortured again?”

  Rain placed a hand over his heart.

  “Until training’s complete, anyone who messes with you becomes a corpse.”

  She nodded.

  “Now—will you obey Geiger even when it goes against your instincts?”

  “Yes.”

  The spoon flew free.

  Instinct took over.

  She punched through the elevator floor, jammed the grenade into the hole, grabbed Rain, and hit the deck.

  The elevator shook.

  OVERWEIGHT CARGO blinked on a dusty CRT.

  Her hand burned—blackened bone glowing blue as flesh regenerated.

  Two seconds.

  A muffled blast.

  Their eyes met inches apart.

  “Wahnsinnig! You are insane!”

  “Old news, rookie. Good instincts.”

  He hauled her to her feet.

  “What is your callsign, sister?”

  She closed her eyes. One constant threaded through her existence.

  Blood.

  “Kinzhal,” she said. “I am Blood.”

  Glass shook her head and tapped Morse against Geiger’s palm. He brushed her hand away.

  “Can you obey orders? Can you perform in a unit?” Geiger asked calmly.

  Blood nodded sharply.

  “I will do my best. I promise, sir.”

  Geiger looked to Glass. She didn’t meet his eyes.

  “She did not lie.”

  He turned to Rain, who gave a wordless thumbs-up.

  “Be vigilant. Obey without question. Never lie,” Geiger said, saluting.

  Blood returned it.

  “You have passed your first trial, gene-sister.”

  Geiger closed his eyes, palms meeting at his chest.

  “Thank you,” he whispered—to nothing he could name.

  Geiger slung Blood's arsenal on his back. Rain held his wounded squad mate on her feet.

  The elevator climbed.