The Black Site wasn't on any map. Buried three hundred feet beneath a jagged peak in the Himalayas, it was a tomb designed for the living.
Director Elena Cross stepped off the elevator, the cold air instantly biting through her cashmere coat. It smelled of ozone, recycled oxygen, and fear.
"Director on deck!" a guard shouted.
There were twenty of them lining the corridor. They were the Agency's elite—heavily armored, carrying high-caliber assault rifles, their faces covered by masks. But Elena noticed the way their hands gripped their weapons too tightly. They weren't guarding the prisoner to keep him in. They were praying he didn't decide to come out.
"Status?" Elena asked, walking past them without slowing down.
"He... he is awake, Ma'am," the Warden stammered, matching her pace. "His heart rate spiked ten minutes ago. He hasn't moved, but... the sensors indicate he is waiting."
"Open the gate."
The Warden stopped dead. "Director, protocol requires three levels of—"
"I said open the damn gate."
The Warden swallowed hard, then nodded to the technician behind the blast glass.
CLANK. HISS.
The massive steel door, thick enough to stop a tank shell, groaned open. Darkness spilled out like ink.
Elena stepped inside.
The cell was vast, a cavern of reinforced concrete. There were no windows. No bed. No toilet. Just a single figure sitting in the center of the room, cross-legged on the freezing floor.
Saketh.
He was stripped to the waist, his torso a roadmap of violence. Burn scars twisted across his left shoulder. Bullet wounds pockmarked his chest. Thick chains made of tungsten alloy were clamped around his wrists, ankles, and neck, tethering him to the floor. Each link weighed fifty pounds.
He didn't look up. His breathing was slow, rhythmic.
"Hello, Saketh," Elena said. Her voice didn't tremble, but her heart was hammering against her ribs.
Saketh stopped breathing for a second. Then, he inhaled deeply.
"Elena," he said. His voice was rough, like stones grinding together. It wasn't loud, but it echoed off the walls. "You smell like expensive cigarettes and desperation."
"The world is ending," Elena said.
"The world is always ending," Saketh replied, still not opening his eyes. "That's why you have armies. That's why you have heroes. Why are you here?"
"The heroes are dead," Elena said. She took a step closer. The pressure in the room increased, a physical weight that made it hard to breathe. "Viper is down. Ghost Squad is wiped out. The Syndicate has a new weapon. Pain-immune soldiers. The Hollows."
Saketh finally opened his eyes.
They were terrifying. Not because they were angry, but because they were completely empty. Like looking into a deep well.
"Hollows," Saketh tested the word. "Cute name. And you want me to kill them."
"I want you to burn them," Elena said. "I want you to do what you do best. Destroy the Syndicate. Root and stem."
Saketh chuckled. It was a dark, dry sound. "Three years ago, you called me a monster. You drugged me, chained me, and threw me in this hole because I 'crossed the line.' Now you want the monster back?"
"I was wrong," Elena admitted. It was the hardest thing she had ever said.
"No," Saketh stood up.
The chains rattled, a deafening sound in the quiet room. He was huge, towering over her. The tungsten collar around his neck strained as he straightened his back.
"You weren't wrong," Saketh whispered, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. "I am a monster. And monsters don't work for free."
Elena didn't flinch. She held his gaze. "I know. That's why I brought this."
She pulled a small, golden key from her pocket. It wasn't a key to the chains. It was a digital key. A data drive.
"The location," Elena said softly. "The names of the three Senators who ordered the hit on your family."
Saketh's eyes narrowed. The apathy vanished, replaced by a sharp, predatory focus. For a second, Elena thought he was going to rip her throat out with his teeth.
"You found them," he said.
"I found them. You kill the Syndicate... and I give you the list. You get your revenge. And I grant you 'Level Zero' clearance. No rules of engagement. No oversight. You kill who you want, how you want."
Saketh stared at the golden key.
"Unchain me," he commanded.
"Do we have a deal?"
"Unchain me, Elena. Before I change my mind and kill everyone in this mountain."
Elena nodded to the camera in the corner.
CLICK.
The magnetic locks disengaged. The heavy tungsten cuffs fell to the floor with a heavy THUD.
Saketh rolled his shoulders. The sound of joints popping echoed. He rubbed his wrists, looking at his scarred hands.
"Warden!" Elena shouted into her comms. "Get a tactical suit to the loading bay. And a weapon."
"No," Saketh said. He walked past her toward the open door.
He stopped at the threshold and looked back. A cruel smile played on his lips—the first expression he had shown.
"I don't need a weapon," he said. "I'm going to take theirs."
He walked out into the light, and for the first time in three years, the alarms in the Black Site began to ring. Not for an intruder. But for the disaster leaving the building.
The Devil was loose.