Training Room | 12:34 PM
The room smelled like sweat and old wood. Dust motes floated in the cold afternoon light filtering through the barricaded windows. Outside, the storm still raged. Inside, the air was thick with tension.
Yuki's grip on the wooden knife was too tight. Knuckles white. Palms slick.
She'd been training for what, an hour? Two? Felt like days.
Aveline stood across from her. Relaxed. Arms loose at her sides. Marker held casually in one hand like a cigarette.
Waiting.
Yuki's pulse hammered in her ears.
Just one hit. That's all I need. Just prove I can,
She lunged.
Fast. Hard. Committed.
The knife drove forward, aiming for Aveline's center mass.
Aveline moved.
Not rushed. Not panicked. Just... moved.
Sidestep. Smooth. Effortless. Like a matador evading a charging bull, lateral movement at a 45-degree angle, establishing a dominant position while Yuki's momentum carried her forward into empty space.
Yuki's blade cut nothing but air.
She stumbled, caught herself, spun around.
Aveline was already walking away.
Back turned.
Not even looking at her.
Just pacing toward the far wall like Yuki wasn't worth the attention.
What the,
Rage flared hot in Yuki's chest.
She's not even taking me seriously.
"Hey!" Yuki shouted.
Aveline didn't stop.
Yuki broke into a sprint. Knife raised. Adrenaline burning through her veins.
I'll make you look at me. I'll,
Aveline's hand rose smoothly over her shoulder.
Still walking. Still not looking back.
The marker glinted in her fingers.
Her thumb flicked.
Pop.
The cap sailed backward through the air.
Yuki's eyes tracked it, too slow, too late,
THWACK.
Pain exploded across her right eye.
"AH, FUCK!"
Her vision went white. Then red. Then watery blur.
She doubled over, hand flying to her face, knife forgotten. Tears flooded instantly, hot and stinging.
She tried to blink. Couldn't see. Everything was smeared shapes and burning pain.
What hit me? Where,
Panic clawed up her throat.
She forced her eye open. Blinked hard. Vision swam.
Looked left.
Empty.
Looked right.
Empty.
The room tilted. Her breath came short and fast.
Oh shit.
She's behind me.
A hand shot out from the shadows.
Fingers tangled in Yuki's hair like iron claws.
Cold. So goddamn cold.
Yanked.
Yuki's head snapped back violently. Her neck stretched, exposed. Every pulse point vulnerable. She gasped, no air, no leverage, no way to fight back.
The marker pressed against her throat.
Cold metal tip. Wet ink.
Aveline leaned in close. Her breath was hot against Yuki's ear.
And she smiled.
Yuki felt it more than saw it. The shift in Aveline's breathing. The faint hum of satisfaction.
Not a smirk. Not a calculated intimidation tactic.
A real smile. Wide. Hungry. Delighted.
"Predictable," Aveline whispered.
Then she dragged the marker across Yuki's throat.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Left to right.
The ink was cold. Wet. It spread across her skin like,
Blood.
Yuki's brain short-circuited.
The marker felt exactly like blood.
Cold. Viscous. Spreading.
Her body believed it before her mind caught up.
I'm bleeding. She cut me. I'm dying. I'm,
Her knees buckled.
The wooden knife clattered to the floor, forgotten.
She collapsed forward, hands flying to her throat.
Wet. Sticky.
Dead. I'm dead. I'm-
Training Room| 12:36 PM
"And you're dead."
Aveline's voice. Flat. Clinical. Final.
Yuki lay on the floor, chest heaving, hands still pressed to her throat.
She forced herself to look.
Black ink. Not red.
Not blood. Just marker. Just,
But her body didn't believe it. Heart still hammering. Breath still ragged. Hands still shaking.
Aveline crouched beside her. Expressionless. The smile was gone, folded away like it had never existed.
"Kill window: 2.1 seconds," she said. "Target fixation. You committed to the chase without accounting for counters. The moment I disengaged, you should've reset defensive posture. Instead, you pursued into an execution zone."
She paused.
"Eye strike forces panic response. While you were compromised, I repositioned. Hair grab secures full control. Throat exposure automatic. You never had a chance."
Yuki stared at her. Couldn't speak. Couldn't move.
Aveline stood. Extended her hand.
Yuki took it instinctively.
And flinched.
Ice.
Aveline's hand was freezing. Colder than the air. Colder than metal. Like touching a corpse.
"Why are your hands so cold?" Yuki blurted.
Aveline pulled her upright effortlessly. "Side effect. Metabolic. You'll adapt."
"Side effect of what?"
"Existing." Aveline released her. "Go wash the ink off. Bathroom. Now."
Yuki stumbled toward the door, legs unsteady, still touching her throat like she might find a wound there.
Training Room | 12:38 PM
Adrian stood frozen against the wall.
He'd watched the whole thing.
Every second.
The sidestep. The cap throw. The hair grab. The throat mark.
And the smile.
That fucking smile.
He'd seen killers before. Plenty of them. Cold. Professional. Detached.
But this?
Aveline had enjoyed it.
Wide grin. Eyes half-closed. Like she was savoring the moment.
Like it was art.
His stomach twisted.
Aveline turned to face him. The smile was gone now. Replaced by that blank, neutral mask she always wore.
"Problem?"
"No."
"You look disturbed."
"I'm fine."
Her eyes narrowed. Assessing. Calculating.
She walked toward him. Slow. Deliberate.
Stopped close. Too close.
He could smell her, faint traces of gun oil, soap, something metallic.
She leaned in.
Whispered.
"You saw the smile, didn't you?"
Adrian's breath caught in his throat.
She knew.
She'd caught him watching. Knew he'd seen the mask slip.
"Good," Aveline continued, voice barely audible. "You should. Monsters like me keep people like you alive in situations like this."
Pause.
Her eyes locked onto his.
"You're joining in next."
Adrian's heart stopped.
Oh god.
She's going to kill me too.
"You'll be joining in next time we're training," Aveline said, walking past Adrian toward the stairs. "But for now, we're going to the kitchen."
Adrian and Yuki exchanged glances. Neither spoke.
They followed.
Kitchen | 1:18 PM
The kitchen was warmer than the rest of the house. The fireplace in the adjacent living room cast flickering orange light across the marble counters.
Aveline moved through the space with surgical precision. Every motion deliberate. No wasted energy.
She pulled ingredients from the fridge. Bread. Eggs. Vegetables. Chicken broth. Avocado.
Lined them up on the counter like surgical instruments.
"Today you're learning soup," she said. "It's cold. Soup is more sufficient than ramen. Warmer. More filling."
She turned to face them.
"I'll walk you through each step. You'll do the work this time."
Yuki opened her mouth.
"We don't know how to,"
"I'm aware," Aveline interrupted. "That's why I'm teaching you. Pay attention."
Kitchen | 1:22 PM
Toasting Bread
Aveline demonstrated first. Adjusted the toaster settings. "Medium-high heat. Two minutes per side. Watch for golden brown, not black."
She sliced bread. Perfect twelve-millimeter thickness.
"Your turn."
Yuki took the knife. Cut too thick.
Aveline's hand closed over hers. Guided the blade.
Ice cold.
She flinched but didn't pull away.
"Like this," she said. "Steady pressure. Let the knife do the work."
The next slice was better.
Cutting Avocados
"Pit removal first." Aveline halved an avocado with one clean motion. Twisted. The halves separated.
She embedded the knife into the pit. Twisted again. It popped out.
"Don't stab yourself. Common mistake. Control the blade."
Yuki tried. Fumbled. The pit rolled across the counter.
Aveline caught it without looking.
"Again."
Yuki tried again. Got it this time.
"Better."
Boiling Eggs
"Water first. Rolling boil. Then eggs. Six minutes for soft-boiled. Ten for hard."
Aveline set a timer.
"You watch them. Tell me when the timer goes off."
Adrian watched the pot. Water bubbled. Steam rose.
The timer beeped.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Ice bath. Stops the cooking process. Makes them easier to peel."
She demonstrated. Eggs into ice water. Perfect.
Making Soup
This was more involved.
Chopping vegetables, carrots, celery, onions.
"Small dice. Uniform size. Ensures even cooking."
Aveline handed Yuki the knife.
Yuki chopped. Uneven pieces.
Aveline reached over. Repositioned her grip.
Yuki jerked back. "Your hands, they're still freezing."
"Noted." Aveline didn't move. "Continue."
Yuki forced herself to stay still. Let Aveline guide her hand.
The pieces came out cleaner this time.
"Good."
They sautéed the vegetables in oil. Added chicken broth. Seasoned with salt, pepper, herbs.
The kitchen filled with rich, savory aroma.
Adrian stirred the pot. The heat from the stove felt good. Warmer than anywhere else in the mansion.
Hot oil popped. Splattered onto Aveline's hand.
She didn't flinch.
Just wiped it with a towel. Red welt already forming.
Adrian watched.
That should've hurt.
But Aveline's expression didn't change. Didn't even blink.
Weird..
Kitchen | 2:15 PM
The soup was ready.
Aveline ladled it into bowls. Added the peeled eggs. Sliced avocado on the side. Toasted bread for dipping.
"Eat," she said.
He pulled back instinctively.
Yuki wasn't exaggerating.
Her hands are freezing. But we're right next to the fireplace. How is that possible?
He glanced at Aveline. She didn't react. Just kept watching them.
Adrian filed it away mentally. Another weird Aveline quirk.
Doesn't make sense. But nothing about her does.
He kept eating.
Living Room | 2:47 PM
They finished. Set their bowls aside.
Aveline stood.
"Alright. Now that you've learned basic survival cooking, it's time you learned about arms and weapons."
Adrian frowned. "What?"
"You need to know what's out there. What these people use."
She walked toward the stairs. "Follow me."
Second Floor Library, 2:52 PM
The library was massive. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Leather-bound volumes. Dark wood paneling.
Aveline walked to a specific shelf. Ran her fingers along the spines.
Stopped at one book.
"Metro"
Just that. Nothing else on the spine.
She pulled it back.
Click.
The entire bookshelf shuddered. Moved backward on hidden tracks. Slid aside.
A steel door behind it.
Adrian and Yuki exchanged glances.
What the hell?
Aveline approached the door. Placed her hand on a biometric scanner.
Beep.
Green light.
The door hissed open.
Aveline stepped inside.
Gestured for them to follow.
Weapons Room - 2:54 PM
The room was smaller than Adrian expected. Climate-controlled. LED lighting strips along the edges cast everything in sterile white.
And weapons.
So many weapons.
Wall-mounted racks held sniper rifles, different makes, different eras. Display cases showcased smaller items under glass. A center pedestal held what looked like... a coin?
The air smelled like gun oil and old leather.
Adrian's detective instincts kicked in immediately.
Why does a C.R.I.M.E. Division agent have all of this?
This isn't standard issue. This is... something else.
Aveline walked to the center of the room. Turned to face them.
"These," she said, "are tools of the trade. Historical. Effective. Unsuspected."
She gestured to the first item.
1. The Bible - British SOE, World War II
Aveline lifted what looked like an ordinary King James Bible from its display. Leather-bound. Worn edges. Red silk bookmark trailing from the pages.
"Special Operations Executive. British intelligence. 1943."
She opened it carefully.
The interior pages were hollowed out, carved with precision to create a cavity. Nestled inside: a compact .22 caliber revolver. Short barrel. Five chambers.
"Hollowed-out bible. Revolver hidden inside. The red bookmark isn't decoration, it's connected directly to the trigger mechanism."
She demonstrated, finger tracing the bookmark's path. It ran along the spine, disappearing into a hidden channel.
"Pull the bookmark while the bible is closed and aimed..." She mimed the motion. The hammer clicked back. "Gun fires through the spine. Target never sees it coming. Used by British spies operating in occupied France. If captured during a routine check, it looks like you're just a religious traveler."
She closed it carefully. Set it back down.
"Effective range: three meters. Lethal at close quarters. Silent enough that in a crowded room, people think something just fell."
Adrian stared at it.
They really thought of everything.
2. The Boot - OSS Field Operative, 1944
A single black leather boot on a reinforced display stand. Looked ordinary. Standard military issue.
"Office of Strategic Services. Precursor to the CIA. 1944."
Aveline picked it up. Turned it over. The sole looked normal, worn treads, aged leather.
"Last resort weapon for field operatives behind enemy lines."
She pressed her thumb into a specific spot on the heel, hidden pressure point.
SNICK.
A four-inch surgical steel blade shot out from the toe. Razor-sharp. Gleaming under the lights.
"Spring-loaded mechanism. Press the sole against your foot with enough force..." She demonstrated the motion. "Blade deploys. High kick to an enemy's jaw or throat..." She mimed a kick. "Blade enters through soft tissue. Into the brain or carotid artery. Instant kill."
She retracted it with another press.
"Why a boot? Because no one suspects it. You're captured, stripped of weapons, but they let you keep your boots. One good kick and you're free."
Yuki swallowed hard.
"That's... brutal."
"That's survival," Aveline corrected.
3. The Cyanide Coin - KGB Standard Issue, Cold War Era
Center pedestal. A single coin under bulletproof glass.
Plain. Unremarkable. Soviet kopek. 1960s vintage.
"KGB standard issue for deep-cover operatives during the Cold War."
Aveline lifted the glass. Picked up the coin delicately.
"Hollow interior. Cyanide capsule inside. Needle mechanism hidden in the edge."
She turned it in her fingers. Adrian could barely see the seam.
"Press both sides simultaneously..." She demonstrated the grip. "Needle pops out. Coated in potassium cyanide. To the neck, directly into the carotid..." She touched her own neck. "Death in thirty seconds. Prevents interrogation. Protects state secrets."
She set it down carefully.
"Most operatives carried these. Called it 'the last option.' If you were compromised beyond rescue, you used it. Better than torture."
Adrian felt cold.
These people lived in a different world.
4. The Cigarette Pistol - KGB Experimental Weapons Division, 1965
What looked like a flat, brushed-steel cigarette case. Slightly thicker than normal.
"KGB experimental. 1965. Never mass-produced. Too dangerous."
Aveline opened it.
Inside: not cigarettes. Four small barrels arranged in a square. Each one barely larger than a pen.
"Four single-shot barrels. Loaded with ricin-coated bullets. Neurotoxin. No antidote."
She pointed to a hidden button on the case's side.
"Push this. All four barrels fire simultaneously. Effective range: two meters. Meant for close-quarters assassination when you can't carry a conventional weapon."
She clicked it shut.
"Why didn't they mass-produce it? Because operatives kept accidentally shooting themselves. Trigger was too sensitive. But the ones that survived..." She paused. "Very effective."
5. The Poison Ring - Gestapo Officer's Personal Weapon, 1942
A simple silver ring in a velvet-lined case. Elegant. Almost beautiful.
Nazi insignia barely visible on the inner band.
"Gestapo. 1942. Personal assassination tool."
Aveline lifted it carefully. Turned it so they could see the underside.
A tiny needle, barely a millimeter long, protruded from the band.
"Coated with a slow-acting neurotoxin. Botulinum derivative. Symptoms don't appear for six to eight hours."
She demonstrated the motion without touching the needle.
"Shake hands with your target. Firm grip. The needle pricks their palm. They don't even notice, feels like a rough edge on the ring. You walk away. Hours later, they collapse. By the time they're dead, you're in another country."
She set it down.
"Elegant. Cruel. Effective."
6. The Suicide Pistol - Soviet NKVD 'Gift,' 1950s
A normal-looking Tokarev pistol. Soviet military standard.
But something about it looked wrong. The grip was slightly thicker than normal.
"NKVD. Stalin era. Called it 'the traitor's gift.'"
Aveline picked it up. Checked the chamber, empty.
"Doesn't fire bullets. The barrel is fake, welded shut. But the trigger mechanism is real."
She turned it over. Four small holes in the grip, barely visible.
"Four spring-loaded spikes hidden in the handle. Coated with poison, cyanide for execution, paralytic toxin for interrogation."
She demonstrated the grip without pulling the trigger.
"You give this to a suspected traitor. Tell them to 'do the honorable thing.' They put it to their head, pull the trigger..." She mimed the motion. "Spikes shoot into their hand. Poison enters their bloodstream. If it's cyanide, they're dead in minutes. If it's paralytic, they collapse, and you interrogate them while they can't move."
She set it down carefully.
"Psychological warfare. Make them kill themselves with a trap."
Adrian felt sick.
7. The Smoking Pipe - British MI6, 1960s
An ornate wooden smoking pipe. Carved bowl. Long stem. Looked expensive.
"MI6. 1960s. Issued to high-ranking diplomats operating in hostile territory."
Aveline picked it up. Ran her finger along the stem.
"Fully functional. You can actually smoke from it. Tobacco chamber, airflow, everything works."
She turned it over.
"But the stem is hollow. Single-shot .22 barrel hidden inside. Trigger mechanism disguised as part of the mouthpiece."
She demonstrated, pressed a hidden catch.
Click.
The hammer cocked.
"Bite down on the mouthpiece while pointing the bowl at your target. Fires one shot. Point-blank range. Silent enough that in a diplomatic function, people think a champagne glass broke."
She uncocked it.
"After you fire, you can still smoke from it. Perfect cover."
8. The Sleeve Gun - CIA, 1970s
A compact derringer attached to a leather sleeve rig. Spring-loaded mechanism.
"CIA. 1970s. Personal defense for undercover operatives."
Aveline strapped it to her forearm. The gun disappeared under her sleeve.
"Ring on your index finger connects to the trigger via a thin wire."
She showed them, a simple band with a small button.
"Someone grabs you. Threatens you. You press the button..."
SNAP.
The gun shot out from her sleeve, barrel pointed forward.
"Point-blank shot. Then it retracts automatically. Nobody sees the weapon, just sees your attacker drop."
She removed the rig.
"Effective. But you only get one shot. Make it count."
9. The Cane - Victorian-Era Assassin's Tool, 1880s
An elegant walking cane. Dark wood. Silver handle shaped like a wolf's head.
"Victorian era. Gentleman's weapon. Late 1800s."
Aveline lifted it. Ran her hand along the shaft.
"Looks like a standard cane for elderly or injured men. But the handle twists..."
She demonstrated. The wolf's head rotated ninety degrees.
Click.
A small compartment opened. Inside: a single brass cartridge.
"One bullet. Barrel runs through the center of the cane. Trigger mechanism hidden in the handle."
She aimed it like a rifle.
"Effective range: ten meters. You can actually lean on it while walking. No one suspects. When the moment comes..." She mimed pulling a hidden trigger. "One shot. Then you walk away, leaning on your cane like an innocent old man."
10. The Baby Cradle - Female Soviet Spy, 1930s
This one made Adrian's blood run cold.
A wicker baby cradle. Faded blue blanket. Fake baby doll on top, realistic enough to pass a casual glance.
"Soviet NKVD. 1930s. Issued to female operatives crossing borders."
Aveline approached it carefully.
"Border guards see a woman with a baby. They let her through without searching, because what kind of monster searches a baby?"
She lifted the doll.
Underneath: a compact submachine gun. PPSh-41. Drum magazine.
"Fully automatic. Seventy-one rounds. Trigger mechanism wired to a button on the cradle handle."
She pointed to a small red button disguised as a decorative knob.
"Press this while aiming the cradle..." She demonstrated the motion. "All patrol guards dead in three seconds."
She set the doll back down.
"Ruthless. Effective. Unsuspected."
11. The Knife Pistol - CIA Special Operations, 1980s
A tactical knife with a strange, thickened handle.
"CIA. 1980s. Dual-purpose weapon."
Aveline picked it up. The blade was seven inches. Serrated edge. Combat-grade.
"Functions as a normal knife. But the handle..." She turned it over. A small barrel opening at the base of the blade. "Contains one .22 caliber round. Fired by pressing this button."
She indicated a hidden switch near the guard.
"You're in a knife fight. They think they have range advantage. You press the button..." She aimed. "Bullet fires. They drop. Then you close distance and finish with the blade."
She set it down.
"Surprise advantage. Most people don't expect a knife to shoot."
12. The Butterfly Knife - Street Weapon, Civilian Use
Standard butterfly knife. Well-worn handle. Sharp blade.
Adrian recognized this one immediately.
"I actually know how to use this," he said.
Aveline glanced at him. Something flickered in her eyes, calculation, reassessment.
"Show me."
Adrian picked it up. Flipped it open with practiced ease. Basic opening. Nothing fancy.
Aveline watched.
"Where did you learn?"
"Undercover work. Gang infiltration. Had to fit in."
She nodded slowly.
"Good. At least you're not completely useless."
Weapons Room - 3:08 PM
Aveline gestured to the entire arsenal
Her eyes swept across the displays.
"I'm going to teach you how to use these. Why? Because they're unsuspected. Most people haven't encountered them since World War One or Two. Most people don't expect you to use them. You can operate without suspicion."
Pause.
"These are just an overview. Full training comes later."
She walked toward the door.
"But right now... we're going back to training."
Training Room - 3:15 PM
Back to the cold. Back to the hardwood floors and mirrored walls.
The weapons room had been warm, temperature-controlled, sealed. Out here, the mansion's chill crept back in. Adrian's breath misted faintly in the air.
Aveline stood in the center of the room. Arms crossed. Assessing.
"Alright," she said. "Time for evaluation."
She looked at Yuki first.
"You've improved significantly since we started. Reaction time is better. Footwork is cleaner. Knife handling shows basic competence."
Yuki straightened slightly. Almost smiled.
"But," Aveline continued, "it's still not enough to survive a real attack. Against trained professionals, you're dead in under ten seconds. You need way more work."
The almost-smile faded.
"Keep training. You'll get there. Eventually."
Yuki nodded. Determined despite the brutal honesty.
Aveline turned to Adrian.
"Your hand-to-hand combat is solid. NPU standard training shows. Good enough for survivability, you can escape, defend, stay alive long enough to call for backup or reposition."
She paused.
"Not elite level. But competent. Mid-tier. You won't die immediately in a street fight or close-quarters engagement. That's something."
Adrian exhaled slowly. He'd take it.
"However," Aveline added, eyes locking onto his, "you've never fought someone like me."
His stomach drpped.
Here it comes..
Aveline walked to the equipment rack. Picked up the marker, same one she'd used on Yuki.
Turned back to face him.
"Your turn. Let's see how solid you really are."
Adrian's pulse kicked up. He forced his expression neutral. Couldn't show fear. Not now.
He walked to the rack. Picked up the wooden training knife.
Heavier than he remembered.
After what she did to Yuki...
The smile. The cold precision. The way she enjoyed it.
Would I even land a hit?
He stepped into the center of the room. Faced her.
Aveline stood relaxed. Marker held loosely in her right hand. Left hand empty, loose at her side.
No stance. No guard.
Just... waiting.
Predator watching prey.
"Whenever you're ready, Adrian."
Silence.
The room felt smaller. Colder.
Yuki watched from the sidelines, nervous. She'd seen this before. Knew how it ended.
Adrian's hands tightened around the knife grip.
Assess. Don't rush. She wants me to rush.
Aveline tilted her head slightly. Almost curious.
What are you going to do?
Adrian shifted his weight. Testing. Watching her reaction.
Nothing. She didn't move.
She's reading me. Waiting for the tell. The commitment.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
One chance. Maybe. If I'm fast enough. If I-
Aveline's lips curved. Just slightly.
Not quite a smile.
Worse.
Anticipation.
Adrian raised the knife.
Aveline's eyes tracked the motion. Calculating. Already running scenarios.
The moment stretched.
Tension thick enough to choke on.
Move. Don't move. She's in my head already.
Adrian's breath came slow. Controlled.
Fuck it.
He lunged,
AUTHOR'S NOTE - CHAPTER 19
Hey everyone! Ada here.
So... that weapons arsenal scene. Let's talk about it.
YES, I did my research. Most of these weapons are based on REAL historical spy tools used by the SOE (British Special Operations Executive), OSS (precursor to the CIA), KGB, NKVD, and other intelligence agencies during WW1, WW2, and the Cold War. The cyanide coins, poison rings, cigarette guns, and baby carriage smuggling? All documented in historical records.
BUT, and this is important, I took creative liberties for dramatic effect. Some mechanisms are simplified or dramatized to make them work better in a fast-paced narrative. For example:
The "suicide pistol" with spikes is inspired by real NKVD tactics, but the exact mechanism is my own invention.
The spring-loaded boot blade is based on real OSS boot knives, but I made it more "action movie" for impact.
Some of these weapons would be EXTREMELY rare or impossible to acquire in real life, but this is Metro Genesis, a sci-fi mystery thriller, so suspension of disbelief is part of the fun.
This is fiction. Specifically, science fiction with noir and espionage elements. I'm blending real history with speculative tech and heightened drama. If you're a war historian or weapons expert and you spotted inaccuracies, congrats! You're sharp. But remember: this isn't a documentary. It's a story about a psychopathic billionaire spy with enhancement serum and a secret weapons collection. Realism has limits when your protagonist can rip someone's jaw off with her bare hands.
Why include this level of detail? Because I want Metro Genesis to feel grounded even when it's exaggerated. I want you to wonder, "Wait, was that real?" And then go Google it and find out half of it actually WAS. That's the sweet spot for me, fiction that makes you question reality.
So yeah. Enjoy the arsenal. Enjoy Aveline being terrifying. And if you're a historian screaming "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!" I hear you, I respect you, and I'm doing it anyway because it's cool.
Thanks for reading,
Ada
P.S. - If you want to learn more about real spy weapons, check out the YouTube channel "The Art of War" or look up the International Spy Museum archives. Some of this stuff is WILD.