Michelle lays buried under a mountain of blankets, shivering and miserable. Her nose was clogged, her head pounding, and every blink felt like sandpaper grinding across her eyes.

“Why me…” she groaned, pressing her forehead into the pillow. “Why today… Whoever invented the cold should be shot…”
She winced as another pulse of pain throbbed behind her eyes. “Ow…”

Her phone buzzed. Dad. Michelle fumbled blindly for it.
“Hi, dad…”

“Sorry to bother you,” her dad said immediately. “I know you’re feeling terrible. But we have a problem and I need your help. I can’t reach the Fangs.”

“Test day today, dad…” she muttered. “Everybody has to hand over their phones.”

“Today of all days…” Williams exhaled heavily. “Listen. I know you have a fever, but you are my only hope right now. I need you to go to school.”

Michelle blinked. “What…?”

“I received verified intel. There will be another attempt to kidnap Jessica Morgan. Today.”

Michelle’s cough cracked the silence. “The girls can handle that…”

“Not this time,” Williams cut in. “They plan to take her on her way home.”

That jolted her awake. “I’ll try, dad…”

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” 

The line died.

Michelle stared at her wall, hopeless. “No… I don’t have enough strength to get to school. And if I showed up in this condition—a very bad idea.”

But then it hit her… “That’s it! Maya! She doesn’t attend school! If I contact her…”

Michelle dialed. No one picked up. “Great…” she muttered. “Well… The orphanage is way closer. I’ll go there.”

Michelle nearly collapsed twice before reaching Maya’s room. Inside, the girl was sprawled across her bed, wrapped in a blanket, snoring softly. 

“Maya! Wake up! Please, wake up! I need your help!”

Maya stirred, mumbling, “What… Where… Zombie civilian… leave or die again…”

“Maya! We need you!”

Maya reached for the clock. “It’s only eleven…” she groaned.

“Dad called—there’s going to be another kidnapping attempt. Jessica Morgan. The girls can’t pick up their phones!”

Maya’s eyes cracked open.  “Who wants what…?”

“Probably the same guys who hunted you down back then!” 

That did it. Maya’s pupils dilated, rage snapping through her fatigue. 

“Those bimbos?! Fine. I’ve got a score to settle.”

“But Jessica’s safety is the priority, okay?”

Maya was already shoving herself into her biker jacket. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

She stormed out.

***

Tests were in full swing. Jessica handed in her papers and was allowed to leave. Aiko watched her from the window until Jessica got safely into her car. A few minutes later, Aiko finished too. She retrieved her phone, only to find dozens of missed calls and it immediately rang.

“Michelle? What is it?”

“Emergency!” Michelle wheezed. “Another kidnapping attempt!”

“Relax. She already left in her car.”

“That’s the point! They want to hijack the car!”

Aiko’s expression dropped. She shot out of the building, but Jessica’s car was gone. Moments later Trella, Aya, and Anya rushed out, but there was little they could do.

“Michelle, go to the control room and turn on the tracking system. I´ve put several miniature trackers on Jessica for exactly such a case.”

“Control room? Alone? All right…”

Michelle forced herself into the control room. Her pulse hammered. She had never been here alone. But she had no choice. She activated the trackers. Monitors lit up. Radio channels opened. She slid on the headset—awkwardly—and the weight of responsibility landed on her shoulders.

“Okay,” she muttered. “One blip moving, one stationary… and this should be Maya…”

“Maya, come in! I see her trackers! They’re split into two positions! Head west—three miles—to the highway. The stationary one is there!”

“I’m almost at the school!”

“I already contacted the girls. Don’t stop!”

Maya shot past the school like a missile. The girls saw her and understood the urgency. But they had no wheels. But then Talia appeared driving Milena's car! It was not one of the escape vans, but better than nothing. And so the chase begins. Maya reached the stationary signal first.

“Found the car,” she reported. “Driver and guard are dead. Jessica’s bag and phone are here.”

Michelle swallowed. “Okay… the moving signal is four miles east. High speed. Fangs inbound.”

Maya’s bike roared. “On my way.”

Traffic blurred around her as she closed in.

“Take exit nineteen,” Michelle instructed. “They just left the highway.”

“Good. Traffic’s heavy here… I see a van and three bikes. Is that them?”

“Positive. Don’t hurt Jessica. Hostage rescue is priority.”

“You sound like your old man.”

A burst of engine noise.

“They spotted me. Oh yes—they’re the same guys. Payback.”

Michelle’s voice trembled but held steady: “Maya, two bikes flanking, one behind—closing fast.”

“Copy. Let’s play chicken.”

Maya weaved between cars. A burst of gunfire ripped across the asphalt.

“Maya! Be careful!”

“Relax, coordinator junior!”

The rear escort bike dropped back, drawing a metallic tube. The rocket fired. Maya veered sharply..

“That does it.”

She fired. The rider went down hard in sparks and screaming metal. 

The Fangs finally came online.

“Michelle?” Trella’s voice was steady. “Status.”

“Van heading east past Exit 19. Maya engaging escorts. Hostage inside. Hurry!”

Trella inhaled. “Good job. Hold them off. We’re coming.”

The remaining escort bikes fell within seconds. Maya locked onto the fleeing van.

“Where are they heading?” she demanded.

“Looks like the harbor,” Michelle said.

Aya froze. “Harbor? They’re going on a boat?! No way! Stop the car!”

“…what’s her deal?” Michelle wondered.

“She can’t swim,” Trella replied flatly.

“It’s warehouses,” Michelle added quickly. “If they don’t have a ship—it’s a dead end.”

“Let’s go fishing!” Anya chirped.

“Not funny!” Aya snapped.

“Maya, follow but don’t engage,” Michelle ordered. “Wait for backup.”

“Very well…”

A minute later:

“Van located,” Maya whispered. “Dock 5. Warehouse 22C. Three guards outside.”

“Hold position,” Michelle said. “Backup in two minutes.”

Inside Milena’s car, things were tense.

“Five of us crammed in a tin can with no weapons chasing a van full of machine guns! What are we supposed to do, punch them to death?” Aya growled. “Great plan.”

“Relax,” Talia said. “Milena keeps stuff in the trunk.”

Anya leaned forward from the backseat, hair falling into her face. “Something? Like what? A first aid kit and a box of rubber gloves?”

“I don’t know.” Talia answered cluelessly. “Could be pistols, could be scalpels, could be half a crate of vodka. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Enough.” Trella stopped them. “When we get there, we improvise. Maya’s buying us time. We make them count.”

Aya muttered under her breath, arms crossed tight: “I’ll improvise myself drowning if this goes near the docks…”

Aiko, quiet so far, finally spoke up with a calm deadpan. “If it helps… water makes blood wash away faster.”

“Not funny!” Aya snapped.

Anya grinned despite the tension, drumming her fingers on her knee. “I don’t know. I kinda liked that one.”

The car fell back into silence, engine straining, as the warehouse district loomed closer.

“OK, we’re here. Now what?”

“Now we see what we’ve got. Maya’s on watch. Let’s prep.” Trella answered with her calm, commanding tone.

Aya pops open the trunk. Her face drops.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Talia. There’s nothing here! Not even a butter knife!”

“Double floor,” Talia smirked.

“Double—what?!”

“Hidden compartment under the trunk floor. I built it myself. You know how Mils drives. Wouldn’t be fun if the cops pulled her over and found an arsenal in plain sight. Oops…”

“Two Glocks. One Beretta. Minimal ammo. Wonderful,” Aya muttered. “Maybe we ask the guards to lend us theirs.”

“We’ll make it work,” Trella said. “We’ve been in worse spots. Don’t tell me Langley’s made you soft.”

“And we need face cover,” Aiko noted.

“Found a gas mask!” Anya said with a muffled voice.

Trella stared. “You look ridiculous. Anything else?”

“First-aid kit… surgical clothes… wire cutters.”

“Perfect. Cloth for masks, cutters for the fence. We drop the guards, grab weapons, storm the warehouse.”

Static burst.

“Go around 21A and B. Climb the roof of 22B. You’ll have an angle to jump the guards and disarm them. Two problems solved at once.”

The girls freeze.

“Michelle? How—”

“Your comms are hot. I heard everything. And leave some of them alive—we’ll need intel. Also… anyone got a phone with a camera?”

“Yeah, why?” Trella answered.

“No bodycams this time. We use it instead.”

Trella exchanges a glance with the others. Not bad. She duct-tapes the phone to her chest. They sneak along the warehouses, climb 22B. From above, one guard drifts under them. Aya crouches. One massive leap. SNAP. Guard down, weapon claimed. The others drop down, cut the fence and silently neutralise the other two.

“Outside’s clean. Now what?” Anya whispered.

“Target should be on the left side. Any windows, vents, anything to peek through?”

Trella found a vent.

“Open vent. I count eight armed, crates everywhere for cover. Girl’s there—left side like you said. Ideas?”

“How about we knock?” Aya suggested.

“Not a bad idea,” Michelle said. “What if we knock with a car?”

A short silence followed.

“Maya’s still outside. So is Milena’s car.” Michelle added. “She rams the door, opens fire—draws their eyes. You storm in from behind and finish it.”

Trella exhaled a short laugh.  “Thinking on your feet. I like it. Maya?”

“Heard you. Standing by.”

“I think you’ve seen too many action movies,” Aya muttered.

Inside the warehouse, the kidnappers lounged around their prize. Outside, Maya adjusted her grip on the wheel.

“Showtime.”

The engine screamed. CRASH! The metal door folded like tinfoil. Maya leaned out, MP5 blazing, forcing the gunmen into cover.

“Heads down, amigos!”

At the same instant, the Fangs stormed the back entrance—silent, deadly, coordinated. Aya slammed one man into the ground, twisting his rifle out of his grip. Aiko sliced another’s forearm and disarmed him before he blinked. Anya and Trella advanced through the crates, weapons raised.

Michelle’s voice cut in sharply: “Left corner by the blue crates! Two regrouping!”

Aya responded with bullets. It ended quickly. Maya killed the engine. The girls regrouped as Aiko freed the trembling hostage.

Trella lifted her chin. “Target secure. Three survivors for questioning.”

Michelle’s voice trembled with exhaustion: “Copy. Mission complete…”

Jessica sobbed. “W-who are you?”

Aya snorted. “The shiny prince on the white horse couldn’t make it. He sent us instead.”

“I already contacted my dad,” Michelle added. “CIA is on the way.”

Sirens wailed. Trella frowned. “I hear them.”

“No… too soon. Those are local LEOs,” Michelle warned. “Get out. Now.”

“What about the girl?”

“Leave her. Police will handle it. Take the wounded instead.”

Aya stared at the three groaning men. “We’re already five packed into this rust bucket! Where do you want them—the trunk?!”

“Yeah, why not? Hand them to my dad at the orphanage. Or…”  Michelle hesitated. “Didn’t you say Milena is a very good interrogator? Why not give it a try?”

The girls exchanged looks—dark amusement simmering beneath tension.

Talia hissed, “Cops are here! Move it or lose it!”

They fled at the last minute. 

Back in the control room, Michelle lowered her headset with trembling fingers. Her fever made the room spin. Every muscle felt hollow. She sank back into her chair, completely drained, but she had done it. She saved a life.