Chapter 12 — The Purge
Voss's voice was low, steady, but carried the weight of decades. "The day after that night… everything changed. The Purge was ordered. Protocol Blackout."
24's gray eyes hardened. Memories surged — the smoke, the screams, the betrayal.
⸻
The mission began as planned. The Black Division was deployed to the southern sector of the city — a cluster of research facilities taken over by rogue corporate operatives. Intelligence was clear: high-value targets, minimal civilian presence.
Elias moved with Moth beside him, her hand brushing his shoulder as they descended the narrow stairwell into the facility. Lark and Wraith flanked them; Shade and Specter moved ahead, scanning.
At first, everything went smoothly. Doors were breached, drones dismantled, human targets incapacitated. But then came the signal.
A voice crackled through their comm units — not Voss, not an instructor, not an ally.
"Terminate all subjects. Complete Protocol Blackout."
Specter froze for half a second. And then… he struck.
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Betrayal
The first shot came from Wraith's side — he had hesitated, unsure who gave the order, and had been neutralized by a hidden turret. Specter moved with deadly precision, teleporting short distances, blades flashing, cutting through the operatives and his own teammates without hesitation.
Shade tried to phase through the wall to escape, but Specter anticipated her. A flash of steel caught her in the shoulder. She fell to the ground, clutching the wound, eyes wide with disbelief.
Lark, panicking, tried to distract Specter with a misfired grenade. The explosion caught him off-guard, but he survived — barely. His screams echoed in the halls, mingling with the alarms.
Elias's stomach churned. Moth, beside him, glanced at him with wide, terrified eyes. "Elias… we can't let him—"
Too late. Specter had already teleported behind them, blades ready. Elias countered with his shorter blade, displacing in mid-air to avoid the first strike. Sparks flew as steel met steel. Moth phased through a wall, coming up behind Specter to slash at his side, but he twisted, narrowly avoiding her attack.
The corridor became a blur of shadows, steel, and displacement. Each teleport tore through Elias's body, pain shooting along his neural conduits. He gritted his teeth, each jump threatening to burn him from the inside out.
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The Death of Moth
They reached the central lab. Moth was bleeding, her movements slower. She threw herself in front of Elias as Specter lunged for him, blades meeting with a flash of sparks.
"Go!" she screamed, gritting her teeth. Her shoulder was a mess of deep cuts and scorched flesh from repeated jumps.
Elias shook his head, but her grip on his hand was iron. "No, Moth—"
"Go! Live!" she gasped.
Her body shimmered as she phased through the remaining turrets and forced Specter to react. In one desperate blink, she disarmed him long enough for Elias to teleport past the chaos, leaving her behind.
He barely realized what had happened until he emerged from the teleport into the night outside. The screams… the shouts… the sound of metal tearing through flesh.
Moth's voice lingered in his mind: "Don't look so serious, hero."
And then silence.
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Elias Becomes 24
The building burned behind him. The Black Division was gone. Only Elias remained — broken, haunted, and carrying the ghosts of every teammate he had ever loved.
He fell to his knees, chest heaving. His blades were slick with blood — some enemy, some friend. Every displacement, every jump, had left him weaker, trembling, but alive.
Voss's voice echoed in his memory: They were human once. You are still human… if you survive.
He gripped his twin blades tightly. "I survive," he whispered. "I live. And I'll make them pay."
From that night on, Elias Ward was no longer just a boy. He was 24 — the last of the Black Division.
The world had taken everything from him. Every laugh, every touch, every spark of humanity. And now… he would take something back.
⸻
The silence in the Undercity chamber was heavy. Mara and Kira both understood — the boy before them was forged in fire, but his fire still burned.
Voss's hands rested on the console, trembling slightly. "That night… it marked the end of the children I tried to save. And the beginning of the weapon they became. And 24… he carried every piece of it with him."
24's eyes, cold and gray, flicked to hers. For the first time in years, a flicker of emotion crossed his face. Grief, rage, and the faintest memory of Moth.
"And that," Voss whispered, "is why he's still alive."