The dark water hit her like a brick wall, instantly stealing the breath from her lungs and wrapping around her like liquid ice. Down and down they plunged into the churning abyss, the heavy red folder still clutched frantically in her right hand as the current from the opening harbor gates pulled them toward the open ocean.

Above the surface, muzzle flashes strobed across the ceiling of the cavern, illuminating the chaos on the submarine’s deck. Heavy automatic gunfire tore into the gangway where she had been standing just seconds before.

Alejandro kicked wildly against the drag of the tide, his right hand locked around her upper arm, pulling her toward a rusted drainage pipe recessed into the concrete bay wall. She fought the violent undertow, her limbs numbing rapidly, until her boots finally found a precarious hold on the submerged ledge.

Alejandro hauled her inside the narrow, echoing pipe, both of them collapsing onto the slick metal grating, gasping for air. The smell of diesel fuel and damp rust filled her throat as she wiped freezing seawater from her eyes.

«Are you hit?» Alejandro asked, his voice raw, his chest heaving as he slumped against the curved pipe wall. In the dim light filtering from the harbor, she could see the dark, purplish bruises spreading across his neck where the kill-switch had seized his heart.

«No,» she wheezed, shivering uncontrollably. She held up the red folder. Miracle of miracles, the treated waterproof casing had kept the inner documents dry, though water dripped from the edges. «Who was shooting up there? That wasn’t your precinct.»

«It was Julian’s crew,» Alejandro gritted out, feeling along the inside of his left collarbone with a grimace. «Or what’s left of them. He didn’t come to the harbor alone.»

A sudden, sharp metallic clank echoed through the pipe behind them.

She froze, turning her head slowly toward the pitch-black tunnel stretching back into the foundations of the city. A faint, synchronized clicking sound—like heavy combat boots on steel—was rapidly approaching.

They weren’t alone in the drainage system.

«We have to keep moving,» Alejandro whispered, unholstering a small, concealed sidearm from an ankle holster she hadn’t noticed before. «The pipe empties into the abandoned subway tunnels half a mile up. If we can reach the junction—»

«Alejandro, look at your arm,» she interrupted, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper.

Underneath the wet fabric of his jacket, a thin blue line of phosphorescent light was pulsing through the veins of his left forearm, glowing brighter with every heartbeat. The pulse generator hadn’t just stopped; it was transmitting.

«She’s tracking us,» she realized, horror creeping up her spine. «The remote didn’t just shut off the kill-switch. It turned you into a beacon.»

Alejandro stared at his glowing skin, his expression hardening into something desperate and terrible. He raised the small pistol, targeting his own shoulder. «I can cut it out.»

«You’ll bleed to death in minutes!» She grabbed his wrist, forcing the gun down. «Give me the weapon. There’s another way.»

Before he could respond, a blind flare of white light filled the tunnel ahead of them. A heavy flashbang grenade detonated twenty feet away, the concussive force slamming into her eardrums with a deafening ring. Her vision dissolved into static and swimming black spots.

She was thrown backward against the iron grating. Strong, gloved hands seized her shoulders, dragging her out of the pipe into the wide subterranean junction beyond. She kicked wildly, her knuckles white around the red folder, but her attacker’s grip was like iron.

When the high-pitched ringing in her ears finally began to subside, she found herself forced to her knees on a concrete platform. Standing above her were three men in tactical gear bearing no insignia—and standing directly in front of them was Julian, his coat soaked, a deep bloody trench carved into his left cheek where Alejandro’s shotgun had grazed him hours earlier.

«You really thought you could run, Vance?» Julian sneered, pulling a silver cylinder from his tactical vest. He ignored her entirely, stepping past her to point a heavy sidearm directly at Alejandro, who was pinned to the floor by two armed men. «You were a puppet from day one. Did you really think the Chief didn’t know about the chip in your chest?»

«Julian…» Alejandro choked out, blood pooling under his lip. «You don’t know what they built…»

«I know exactly what they built,» Julian snapped. He reached into his vest, pulled out a small electronic scanner, and pressed it against Alejandro’s neck. A loud beep tone sounded, followed by a low, mechanical hum. «And I know that Subject Two was never meant to survive the extraction phase.»

Julian pressed a button on the scanner.

Alejandro let out an agonizing scream that echoed through the concrete tunnels as his body locked completely rigid. The blue light in his veins turned a violent, fiery red.

«Stop it!» she shrieked, lunging forward, but the soldier holding her slammed her down onto the concrete, pinning her forearm behind her back. «Take the folder! Take the chip! Just let him go!»

«The folder is obsolete, sweetheart,» Julian said coldly, not taking his finger off the scanner’s button as Alejandro’s eyes rolled back. «The Chief doesn’t want the paperwork anymore. He wants the primary subject alive, and the secondary unit decommissioned.»

«He’s not a unit!» she screamed, tears cutting through the grime on her cheeks.

«He’s a clone, just like you,» Julian said flatly, turning his gaze to her. «Did you really think you were the only one they grew in that lab twenty years ago? Look at him. Look at his wrist.»

She forced her head up through the pain of the soldier’s grip. Julian pulled back Alejandro’s wet sleeve. There, burned deep into the flesh beneath his glowing veins, was a faint, jagged serial number—identical in format to the one stamped on the inner cover of the red dossier.

Alejandro’s eyes met hers through a haze of absolute agony, his lips moving soundlessly, trying to tell her something.

Suddenly, a violent shudder ripped through the entire cavern. The heavy concrete ceiling above Julian cracked open with a deafening roar, showering the platform with dust and massive stone debris.

Through the collapsing roof, a heavy steel tactical harness dropped down, swinging wildly on a reinforced cable. A figure in full black armor unclipped mid-air, landing heavily between Julian and Alejandro.

Before Julian could fire, the intruder drew a silent blade, slicing through the tactical straps on Julian’s chest in one fluid, terrifyingly fast motion, before driving a heavy boot into Julian’s chest, sending him flying off the platform into the dark subway pit below.

The soldiers opened fire immediately, but the intruder moved with unnatural speed, ducking beneath the bursts, disabling the first guard with a sharp strike to the throat, and disarming the second with a precise spin-kick that sent his rifle clattering across the concrete.

In four seconds flat, the entire squad was neutralized.

Silence fell over the junction, save for the hum of the remaining tactical lights and Alejandro’s ragged, shallow breathing.

The armored figure stood motionless in the center of the platform, the faceplate completely blacked out by a mirrored tactical visor.

She pulled herself up from the ground, her body shaking, pressing her back against the tunnel wall. «Who are you?» she gasped, holding the red folder against her chest like a weapon. «Did she send you?»

The armored figure reached up to the helmet, a hiss of pressurized air escaping as the seals released. The figure pulled the helmet off, shaking out dark, damp curls.

She choked on her breath, stepping backward until her spine hit the icy stone.

The face staring back at her wasn’t the cold double from the submarine. Nor was it her own reflection.

It was an older woman—in her late fifties—with the exact same eyes, the exact same jawline, and a thick silver scar running from her eyebrow down to her chin.

«Hello, little bird,» the woman said, her voice weathered, raspy, and filled with a terrifying, bitter regret. «I see you finally found your father’s ledger. I’m sorry it took me twenty-four years to break out of the facility to come for you.»

She swallowed hard, her throat bone-dry. «Who… who are you?»

«I’m the original,» the woman said softly, raising a gun and aiming it directly at Alejandro’s chest. «And I’m here to finish what your father started before Subject Two kills us all.»