Happy Raksha Bandhan
The self-driving car glided to a silent stop before the all-white, monolithic facade of the Baymax factory's residential building.
"Please press your fingerprint for access," a polite, mechanical voice requested from the combination lock beside the glass door.
Kelsey Quan, supporting the full weight of the "unconscious" Aidan Parker, clumsily lifted his hand and pressed his thumb against the scanner.
Ding! The light flashed green, and the glass doors slid apart.
"Welcome back, Mr. Parker," the holographic projection of Ruby appeared before them, her form perfectly rendered in the sterile lobby. "You appear to be intoxicated."
Kelsey was startled by the sudden appearance of the AI, but she quickly recovered her composure, remembering her mission. She shook Aidan, her voice a pitch-perfect imitation of a concerned friend. "Aidan, wake up. Wake up, we're home!"
Aidan's eyes fluttered open in a haze. "...Home?" he slurred.
"May I ask if you will be continuing your T-Virus research in the basement laboratory this evening?" Ruby asked, her tone flat and unchanging.
This was her chance. "Where is his bedroom?" Kelsey asked the AI, feigning frustration. "He's in no condition to work. I'll take him there."
"Forty-one meters forward, turn right, second door," Ruby replied, helpfully pointing a holographic hand down the corridor.
"Thank you," Kelsey nodded. She half-dragged, half-carried Aidan to his room, threw his limp body onto the bed, and quietly closed the door behind her.
Alone in the room, she took out a small, sophisticated vanity case. From it, she retrieved a set of tools and a polymer sheet. She carefully took Aidan's hand and, with a series of precise movements, created a perfect, high-fidelity copy of all ten of his fingerprints. After finishing, she stood and looked down at the boy genius, sleeping soundly, a sneer of contempt on her face. Innocent fool, she thought. Such powerful, world-changing technology belongs in the hands of those with the will to use it. It belongs to Hand.
Kelsey Quan—Codename: Poppy; allegiance: Hand Special Intelligence Division—was a secret chess piece, buried deep in the United States. Her mission had been simple: live as an ordinary person, integrate into the film industry, and wait. The news of the T-Virus had changed everything. Her original mission to steal robotics data was upgraded. Now, she was to acquire the virus itself. She had considered a more violent approach, but this was cleaner. She crept out of the room, peeling off her civilian clothes to reveal the silent, black ninja suit beneath. A ghost in the machine, she moved through the corridors, expertly avoiding the paths of the few security cameras.
High above, in the unseen digital realm of the facility, the holographic projection of Ruby watched her every move in silence.
Kelsey made her way to the basement, disabling several laser tripwires with practiced ease. She finally came to the main bio-containment lab. In the center of the dark room, a single spotlight illuminated a pedestal. Upon it, encased in a thick, explosion-proof glass cylinder, was a single vial of iridescent blue liquid. The T-Virus.
The cool night air of Queens was a balm on Kelsey Quan's skin as she sped away from the Baymax factory on a silent, black motorcycle. The mission, which had been upgraded from simple data theft to the acquisition of a world-altering biological agent, was a resounding success. In a cooled container on her belt, she carried the prize: a single vial of the infamous T-Virus.
She sneered under her breath, thinking of the boy genius she had just left behind, passed out in a drunken stupor. Innocent fool, she thought, a surge of professional pride washing over her. She had played her part perfectly—the quiet, unassuming artist, the concerned friend. He had been so easy to manipulate. Such powerful, world-changing technology belongs in the hands of those with the will to use it. It belongs to The Hand.
She moved through the city like a ghost, her path pre-planned, avoiding major roads and police patrols. Her destination was a small, private airfield in New Jersey, a discreet hub used for illicit cargo and personnel transport. When she arrived, a sleek, unmarked black jet sat waiting on the tarmac, its engines humming quietly.
Standing near the jet's ramp was a single figure, clad in the deep red and black ceremonial armor of a Hand Jonin. His face was obscured by a demonic men-yoroi mask, and he stood with an unnatural stillness, more like a statue than a man. Two other ninjas, cloaked in shadow, stood silently behind him.
Kelsey, codename Poppy, dismounted and approached, bowing her head respectfully. "Master Jonin," she said. "The mission is complete." She presented the cooled container.
The Jonin took the container without a word. He opened it, inspecting the iridescent blue liquid within the vial. A low, guttural sound of satisfaction came from behind his mask. "You have done well, Poppy," he said, his voice a dry rasp, like stones grinding together. "Your service to The Hand will be remembered."
"I live to serve the true shadow," she replied, her heart swelling with pride.
"Indeed," the Jonin said. He took a single, fluid step forward.
Before Kelsey could even process the movement, a blade, silent and black, slid from the Jonin's sleeve and drew a thin, red line across her throat. Her eyes went wide with shocked betrayal. She brought a hand to her neck, feeling the warm, sudden rush of blood. She tried to speak, to ask why, but only a gurgling sound came out. As her world faded to black, her last thought was of the boy's calm face in the lab, and a sudden, terrifying realization that perhaps he had not been the fool after all. The Jonin slid his blade back into its sheath, not even bothering to watch as her body crumpled to the tarmac. The other two ninjas retrieved the container, and the three of them boarded the jet, which took off into the night, leaving only a corpse behind.
Thousands of miles away, in a command center bathed in the cool blue light of holographic displays, Aidan Parker watched the scene unfold on a massive screen. He was not drunk. He was not in a taxi. He had never even left his chair.
He took a slow sip of tea, his expression calm and clinical as he watched the life fade from Kelsey Quan's eyes on the monitor. "Ruby," he said to the empty room. "Did you record the operative's termination?"
"Affirmative," the AI's calm voice replied from the room's speakers. "Biometrics confirm cessation of all life signs. The Hand has tied up their loose end."
"Predictable," Aidan murmured. "And the micro-tracker on the vial?"
"Signal is strong and stable," Ruby confirmed. A holographic map of the world appeared in the center of the room, a single red line streaking across the Pacific. "They are on a direct course for a privately owned, uncharted island in the Philippine Sea. Cross-referencing shell corporations and shipping manifests, I can confirm with 97% certainty that this island is the primary staging ground for The Hand in this hemisphere."
Aidan stood up and walked over to the holographic map, looking down at the island as if it were a petri dish. The trap had been laid. The bait had been taken. And the rats were now bringing the plague back to their own nest.
"The vial they stole," he mused aloud. "Its contents?"
"As per your design," Ruby stated. "It is not the original T-Virus. It is a modified, weaponized strain—'T-Virus Variant Keshin.' It is designed for rapid, airborne transmission and contains a remotely activated catalyst. The sample they possess is currently inert."
"Excellent," Aidan said, a cold, predatory smile touching his lips for the first time that night. He looked at the red dot representing the jet as it moved closer and closer to the isolated island.
"Let the Proving Ground begin."