Milena is at the window, walking around like a hungry tiger before dinner. Then she finally hears the roar of the motors. First comes Maya on her bike followed by Milena's car. Or what's left of it. She bolted outside, nearly knocking over Aya and froze.

“What… what did you do to my car?!” Milena stared at the ruined vehicle — the cracked bumper, the dented door panel, the grill crushed inward as if it had tried to chew a lamppost. Bullet holes peppered the side. She grabbed her head.

“This isn’t a combat vehicle! This is my car! Do you have any idea what´s it gonna take to hide this?!”

Aya snapped back. “You’re complaining? There was nothing in the trunk, Mils! Nothing! Three handguns and half a clip of ammo? We were storming a warehouse, not mugging a fruit stand!”

“What did you expect?! I’m a doctor, not a commando!”

Trella lifted her hands, trying to mediate. “Easy, easy. We didn’t exactly have time to shop for supplies. We worked with what we had, and it worked.”

“Worked? Worked?! My suspension is ruined, the side door doesn’t open, and is that blood on the seat?”

Talia shrugged, half guilty, half proud. “Well, technically, yeah. But hey, the hidden compartment held up. So, win?”

Aya grumbled. “Barely. I’d have been better off throwing rocks at them.”

The argument spiraled quickly — Aya’s sharp frustration, Milena’s sputtering fury, Trella trying to soothe, Talia throwing in excuses. Maya leaned against the doorframe, amused. Anya wandered by with Milena’s gas mask still on, muffled chuckles bubbling through the filter. Then Aiko’s voice cut through the chatter — quiet, flat, razor-sharp. She had been silent until now, watching.

“Milena. At least you didn’t have to share the trunk with our prisoners.”

The yard fell silent.

“…You put them in my trunk?”

“Three of them,” Aya said deadpan. “Enjoy cleaning that out.”

Milena just stood there, speechless, while Maya smirked and Trella gave a helpless little shrug.

Early evening, orphanage common room. The light outside is orange and dim. Aya, Mei-Ling, and Anya lounged on the couches, half sprawled, half dozing. Trella sat at the table bent over a laptop, typing up her mission report. She paused at times, remembering Michelle’s voice over comms — steady, sharp. Stronger than she had expected from a sick girl tied to a chair. A hint of pride tugged at her mouth. Michelle was upstairs, lay curled on the guest bed, sweat-damp but calmer now. The fever had broken. Her consciousness drifted between sleep and awareness before she finally woke.

What happened? This room doesn’t look familiar…

She moved to the window.

The orphanage? Yes… now I remember… The kidnapping… I was in the comm room. I must have passed out from the fever.

A car door slammed outside. Heavy steps approached. The door swung open. Agent Williams entered like a stormfront.

“Where is she?”

Trella didn’t flinch. “Sleeping. Fever broke. She’ll live.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“She’s in bed. She needs rest.”

The orphanage living room was never meant for shouting matches, but tonight it served just fine. Agent Williams stood there, suit rumpled, tie loose, his jaw set tight as he faced the girls. Trella sat on the arm of a sofa, posture calm but defensive, while Aya paced behind her, arms crossed. Anya leaned by the doorway like a silent blade, and Mei-Ling lounged on the stairs pretending not to care, though her eyes burned with defiance.

Williams’ voice cracked through the air. “Do you have any idea what I walked into at that harbor? Eight bodies in broad daylight, a panicked police squad demanding answers, and me trying to explain a bloody incident while the FBI starts sniffing around. You left me a goddamn disaster, not a crime scene!”

Aya scoffed. “What did you want? A bow on top? You weren’t there. We had seconds before she vanished. We did what we had to do.”

Trella’s tone held firm. “The girl’s alive. That was the mission.”

“At what cost? Do you realize how thin the ice is? One wrong move and the whole arrangement collapses. And Michelle— she had no business leading anything!”

Silence followed — until Anya muttered: “Yeah, well, without her, that girl would be fish food by now. So maybe you should get off her case.”

Williams bristled, but Trella cut in before the fire spread.

“We don’t second-guess each other in the field. Michelle stepped up when no one else could. That’s all there is to it.”

Upstairs, Michelle leaned against the guest room doorframe, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Her fever went down, but left her weak, the air around her was heavy with leftover medicine drowsiness. She padded into the hall, hearing the raised voices from below. Halfway down the landing she ran into Mei-Ling.

“What’s going on?”

“Your dad. And it’s not pretty. If I were you, I’d stay up here until the smoke clears.”

“Right. Thanks.”

She stayed anyway, listening. Downstairs, the anger softened into exhaustion. Williams dragged a hand down his face.

“It’s over. That’s what matters. But I need to know — were there survivors? Because from where I stood, it looked like you left a graveyard.”

Aya and Trella exchanged a glance. Silence stretched. Anya, almost bored, broke it.

“Three of them didn’t die.”

“What?”

Milena entered then, lab coat smeared with dark stains. She pulled off her gloves and tossed them aside.

“Yup. Just finished the autopsy.”

“Autopsy? You said survivors—”

“Exactly. Three survivors. And they gave me everything I wanted.”

The room froze.

“…What the hell did you do down there?”

“Nothing that’s in the CIA handbook, I know. But you wanted answers. I got them.”

Trella leaned back. “Done already, huh? That was fast.”

Milena shrugged. “Yeah, they wanted to keep their nuts a bit longer. Hey, Langley! If you wanna ask them something, I suggest you do it while you still can.”

Williams tightened his jaw.

“…What did you do to them?”

Milena didn’t answer. She simply opened the basement door. The descent was cold. Harsh lamps lit the secret room. Three men lay strapped to metal tables, mutilated but alive, eyes rolling in terror. They barely looked human anymore. Williams stopped. Color drained from his face.

“…Jesus Christ.”

Trella’s voice sounded almost cheerful. “Milena’s art of interrogating. By the way, the bucket’s on your left.”

Williams staggered toward it and vomited. By the time he stumbled back upstairs, shaking, he found Michelle standing in the doorway — pale, exhausted, frightened not of Milena’s work, but of him.

“Dad… are you okay?”

From behind her, Anya commented, “Wow! You look like Michael Jackson…”

Williams swallowed hard.

“…You shouldn’t be here.”

The fury returned.

“Eight dead in broad daylight, gunfire in a shipping yard crawling with witnesses, and you— you thought it was your place to run this? What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was thinking that if I didn’t, she’d be dead right now! None of you had a plan. They did!”

“They?! They are not agents, Michelle! They’re kids playing soldiers!”

Trella snapped, “Wrong. In the field, we answer to whoever keeps us alive. Michelle did that today.”

Aya slammed her fist on the table. “And don’t you dare call us kids! We’ve bled more than your whole office combined!”

“You bled, alright—look at that warehouse! Look at the bodies you left behind! Do you have any idea how hard it is to bury this?! The cops wanted names. Explanations. And what did I have? A massacre in broad daylight, no survivors—”

Milena smirked. “Correction. Three survivors. They’re just not very… talkative anymore.”

Williams stared at her.

“…You’re insane. All of you.”

Michelle’s voice softened but stayed steady. “No, Dad. We just don’t have the luxury of playing by your rules.”

He exploded.

“Enough! YOU — are going home. NOW! YOU — I want a full report on that interrogation or I’ll have your ass for it! And YOU — if you pull a stunt like this again, I will pull the plug personally!”

He grabbed Michelle and stormed out. The door slammed so hard the frame shudders. Silence followed. The girls exchanged glances — not guilty, not apologetic. Just aware. The ground had shifted beneath them. If the CIA pull the deal, they would no longer be uneasy allies. They would become the enemy. And Michelle… where would she stand? Would she be a friend? Or a foe?

Two days passed. Despite her father’s prohibition, Michelle returned to the orphanage. Joseph Dawson had asked for her. She entered, nervous, noticing the girls’ mixed looks — sadness, acknowledgment, but no resentment. Dawson waited in his office.

I am gonna get another mouthful. Why did I pick those damn headphones?

“Please sit down. Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

“You wanted to talk to me… I suppose it is about the mission?”

“Among other things — yes.”

“I… I’m so sorry for what happened…”

“Don’t be.”

“What? Why?”

“Let’s just say I see things differently than your father. And I must admit you did very well.”

Michelle felt her world tilt.

“I may be working with your father, but as you know I am not with the CIA. What you have seen so far were polished clean CIA operations. This one was a Fang operation.”

He was always like a sphinx, now his tone is so soft and pleasant…

“Not easy circumstances — thinking on your feet, improvising, coordinating the girls, making use of anything at hand. And you did that with high fever, no training, and zero field experience. Trella and Maya gave me full detailed reports. I am honestly impressed. Your dad wants us to go by the book. But that’s not who we are. I have a feeling you understood it and acted like a true seasoned Fang.”

“T-Thank you very much. I…”

“At ease, soldier.”

She breathed out.

“I got used to being around the girls. That probably helped. I’ve gotten to know them.”

“And they´ve accepted you. That is rare. Talia is the only other person not an original Fang they let in. And at first that was only because they needed her. It was completely different in your case. They cared from day one.”

Her eyes brimmed slightly.

“How do you actually see the girls?”

“I see them as… my friends.”

“Despite what they are?”

“Despite? I know they can stop a tank with one punch or take out an armada like it’s nothing. But underneath, I see normal, gentle, goofy girls. I’ve had a lot of good times with them.”

“Thank you. They often don´t show it, but your friendship and accepting them as they are means a lot to all of them. Not many people can see them as humans instead of monsters, weapons of mass destruction or criminals. Sadly – your dad included. I need to ask you something very important. I don´t need an answer straight away, but I want to ask you to think about it.”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“In case the deal between us and the CIA goes south… where do you want to stand?”

“I don’t know… I hope it never happens. There’s a lot of tension between me and Dad. He forbade me to come here. He’s even considering changing my school. And…”

“Don’t worry. You can talk. Everything said in this room stays here.”

“My dad is a workaholic. He does everything by the book. He has a vision of a just world. I inherited that. But the girls opened my eyes. Now I see the world as it is. We don’t really fit in. I just want him to accept me as I am, not remake me after his own image.”

“You have a good heart. Maybe too good for this dark world.”

“I’ve entered it. No going back now.”

“I like your determination. Do you want to be part of the team?”

“Yes. The girls may not be exactly normal, but am I? They told me everything. I understand them.”

“You don´t know everything and nor do they.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“There are two things you don´t know. One is the source of their power and its cost. The other is their past. On that desk are their personal files and the file about the Organisation that created the Fangs. Not even your dad or anyone outside this family knows. Only if you are prepared to enter this dark world can you read them. But if you do – there will be no going back”

“I am ready.”

She drew the first file toward her.

Trella. The Boss, the rock, the one who pulled me into this world in the first place. Notes of early training, her first missions, her record of split-second calls. 

Michelle caught herself nodding. 

Yeah… that’s Trella. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Born to lead. Even when she’s just being her dorky self at the orphanage.

One file after another.

Aya. Beast. Firecracker. Stubborn, terrified of water, and hiding more softness than she’ll admit.

Mei-Ling. Lotus. The flower rooted in blood. Sharp, graceful, precise… I always felt there was more steel behind her quiet voice. Here it is in black and white. Katya, Anya, Amelie. Ghost, Uzi, Nightmare. Each girl had their traumas laid bare in clinical lines, then covered with hard data — kills, operations, efficiency ratings. Michelle swallowed hard but didn’t look away. She kept going. Liza, Samira, Aiko. The younger ones, the ones who clung tighter to their odd little family. They shouldn’t have had to live any of this. But they did. And they’re still here. Still laughing, still fighting. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.

Her only frown came when the notes touched on the serum. Terms she half-understood. Phrases like dependency cycle and irreversible enhancements. Michelle lingered, tracing the words with her eyes. 

So that’s the cost. No miracle without a chain to go with it.

She didn’t close the file. She just breathed in slowly, then kept moving. The last stack sat on the desk like a brick of secrets: The Organisation. Michelle stared at the cover for a long moment. “All right. This is it. The real monster under the bed. Time to meet it face to face.” She opened it. Her eyes tracked every line. Timelines. Experiments. Facilities. The collapse. Names of people who vanished from history, governments that pretended not to know, operations written off as terrorist incidents. Michelle felt her jaw tighten. 

This is no conspiracy theory. This is the truth. And the Fangs were right in the middle of it all. Those girls. My friends..

When she finally set the last page down, she didn’t feel sick. She didn’t even feel afraid. She felt… clarity. Michelle lifted her gaze to the Coordinator. For the first time in days, her face carried no hesitation, no fear, only understanding. A quiet seriousness. 

I know who they are now. And I’ve chosen.

Dawson met her gaze. Then pulled out a blank folder. Slowly, he wrote a single word across the tab. CIPHER. He slid it to her. Hours later, when they stepped out, the girls waiting in the hall stiffened. They exchanged tense glances. Dawson placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Girls, let me introduce to you… Cipher.”

Trella smirked. “Figures. About time.”

Aya barked a laugh. “Cipher, huh? Yeah, I like it.”

Katya tilted her head. “Да. It suits you.”

Mei-Ling bounced lightly. “Welcome to the family.”

Amelie crossed her arms with a short nod. Approval flickered.

Even Aiko allowed the faintest ghost of a smile.

Michelle — Cipher — felt their acceptance settle around her like armor.

For the first time since the mission, she wasn’t afraid.